Page 110 of Lana Pecherczyk
“You gave it the razz,” she said, grinning from ear to ear as they locked eyes.
The bench wasn’t perfect, but considering their limited tools, it would hold.
They finished an hour ago. Now, Blake straddled River’s hips while he reclined in the bed nook. His hands braced behind his head against a pillow as he watched her tap the bamboo needle into his left pectoral. The caravan’s gentle sway didn’t concern him at all.
“I’m fucking this up,” she muttered, dabbing away excess ink. The broken Umbria crest she tried to restore looked more likea child’s drawing than the intricate pattern in the book. It had been so much easier using charcoal on paper.
“It’s perfect.” His gaze never left her face. “Every time I look at it, I’ll remember this day.”
He’d insisted on reclining while she worked. Hadn’t even tried hiding the fact that he wanted her “perfect tits” in his face while she “pricked him” because it was an effective distraction technique.
Blake had to admit she felt good, too. Being trapped with him in a moving caravan was the best time of her life. She never wanted to leave. But still, she was acutely aware that he’d not yet revealed anything about himself … including sharing his emotions. Apart from their intense sexual chemistry, the bonding was one-way.
“If I can finish your crest without looking at the book,” she said, dabbing excess ink, “drawing ear anatomy from memory should be easy.” She traced where lightning had erased the intricate design near his nipple. The muscle jumped beneath her touch. “You’re certain about this?”
“Mmhm.” River’s response sounded strangled as she shifted position to get comfortable.
“You okay? Am I hurting you?” She glanced up from the tattoo, breath catching at the midnight that had devoured the blue of his eyes. No longer relaxed but smoky with desire.
“Never.” His hands found her thighs and slid upward, bunching the windways. His thumbs found the splits and slipped beneath.
Bare skin. Electric contact.
Blood roared in Blake’s ears as he stroked lazy circles on her flesh. “But don’t let me distract you.”
“We’re almost done.” Her voice remained steady, but the bamboo needle trembled when she aimed the next tap. “Though you’re breathing too fast.”
“Because you keep wiggling.”
“I do not…” Her denial died as she caught herself mid-wiggle. Heat flooded her cheeks. Arousal pulsed between her thighs.
“See?” His fingers flexed, branding her skin. Voice dropping to gravel. “Driving me fucking insane.”
Her pussy clenched at that growl.Focus. She had to focus. But his taut abdominal muscles bunched beneath her hands. His throat worked as he swallowed. His lingering gaze burned hotter than a summer sun.
“Almost done.” Her whisper barely carried over her thundering heart.
“Good.” His jaw tightened. “Because that’s about all I can take.”
She dabbed away the last traces of ink with unsteady hands. The restored crest gleamed against his skin, perfect and whole despite a few wavering lines from bumps in the road.
“What do you think?” She bit her lower lip.
A pure animal sound rumbled from the base of his throat. He caught her wrist and pressed her palm against his jackhammering heart, just left of the fresh tattoo.
“I think we’ve tortured ourselves enough, Sparkles.”
Chapter
Thirty-Five
River ached everywhere, and it had nothing to do with the new tattoo. His mate had been straddling him for the past turn of the hourglass, pressing soft curves against his chest. He’d lured her into that position as a distraction, claiming it accentuated her full breasts. But a darker part of him craved her closeness while she delivered pain.
The problem was her arousal grew stronger, too—in scent, in signs, in the way her body spoke to his. For his life, he couldn’t understand why he’d tried playing the decent male before. With her palm pressed to his chest, her eyes filling with heat, her thighs clamping around his midsection … he saw nothing else, wanted nothing else, but her. Especially that slight gap between her two front teeth. He’d not noticed it before, but now that he had, all he could think of was how it would feel pressed against his skin.
“River,” she scolded, tapping his jaw. “You should look at what you’re getting stuck with.”
“It’s perfect.”
