Page 117 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“You’re right. But calling his sister might not have been the best idea, either.”

With a groan, he mutters, “It was a dick move.”

“Maybe a little bit. He’ll forgive you, though.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. People do stupid crap for the ones they love.”

Leaning closer, he gives me a quick peck on the forehead. “Yes, we do, babe. Speaking of doing shit for the ones they love, I wanna give you a tattoo.”

I don’t miss the way his voice softens or how his eyes flood with warmth as his gaze rolls over me.

Biting my lip to keep from swooning, I murmur, “Oh, you do?”

“Yeah.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the bet Jos is running at Etch ‘N Ink, would it?”

Cheeks heating beneath his soft scruff, he looks like a big burly bear who got caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. “Maybe.”

“And how much of the winnings do I get if I agree?”

“None.”

“Excuse me?” I quip, daring him to argue.

“Jos said if I’m the one who does it, no one gets paid ‘cause it means I pressured you.” His nose grazes beneath my ear as he adds, “Does this feel like I’m pressuring you?”

I grin and tilt my head to one side, loving the way he peppers kisses along my throat. They aren’t sensual. They’re…playful. And intimate in their own way, making me feel more at home than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

My smile is gentle as I peek up at him. “If this is you pressuring me, I might have to raise the stakes and ask what’s in store if I say yes to a tattoo.”

“Someone’s driving a hard bargain. What do you want from me, babe?”

“I wanna know what the art piece is. The one you submitted for the gallery.”

He shakes his head. “No deal. Ask for something else.”

“That’s not fair,” I begin to argue, but a squeak from Penny interrupts me.

A dribble of liquid rolls from the corner of her mouth as she looks up at us, drunk on milk and happier than a clam.

“Why, hello to you too.” I grin back at her, wipe the excess moisture with my finger, and dry it on Milo’s apron. Satisfied, I lift her and kiss her round little cheeks, still amazed at how soft and silky her skin is.

“You wanna know what’s not fair?” Milo asks.

Rubbing my nose against Penny’s in an Eskimo’s kiss, I murmur, “What?”

“How I’m now wrapped around two pretty girls’ fingers instead of one.”

With a light laugh, I look over at him. “You saying I have you wrapped around my finger, Milo?”

He grabs my hand and kisses the back of it. “You own me, Madelyn Walker.” Reaching for Penny, he props her against his shoulder and pats her back, pressing a soft kiss to her round little cheek. “And so do you, baby girl.”

My heart melts before the familiar weight of guilt settles into my bones as I take them in. All snuggled together. Penny cooing at the man I’ve conned into being her daddy. And me, feeling like the snake who snuck into Milo’s bed and is now siphoning off his life. His successes. Everything. It would be different if I knew the truth. If I didn’t have to wonder. If I didn’t have to ask myself if I was imagining their similarities.

But I don’t know what else to do.

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