Page 123 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“If you wanted to see the tattoo before I put it on you, you should’ve been more specific when we made our deal,” he reminds me, his mouth quirking up in amusement.

“You’re joking, right?”

“You gonna defy me, sweetheart?” He leans closer, towering over me with his broad shoulders, looking intimidating and sexy as hell as his gaze heats with interest.

I gulp and tilt my head back, looking up at him while debating whether or not I feel like going to battle with the bastard. Not because I’m angry or overly curious, but because I like playing this game with him. I like the push and pull. I like driving him crazy. But I don’t say a word. Pretty sure my vocal cords are broken right now, anyway.

“You remember what happens when you push my buttons, right?” he rasps, daring me to try while reading my intentions as clear as day.

My heart rate picks up, but again, I stay quiet.

“That’s what I thought.” He lifts my chin and grazes his lips against mine, silently rewarding me, though I haven’t exactly followed his orders yet. Hell, maybe he’s just giving me a taste of what’s to come if I actually listen to his bossy demands. Or maybe he’s giving me a taste of what will happen if I don’t.

I smile against his lips, pulling a deep chuckle from Milo as he tangles his fingers into my scalp and tugs hard. “I know what you’re thinking. And while I love you testing me, Jos walking in on me spanking you might not be the way you want to end the night. But the choice is up to you. Take off your shirt and get on the table. Or take off your jeans and get on my lap. I won’t complain either way.”

My mouth curves up as I reach for the hem of my shirt and tug it over my head. I can feel his eyes on me, caressing every inch of exposed skin as I pull my hair over my left shoulder and muster as much confidence as a girl can have without a shirt on.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice laced with appreciation.

I lay down on my stomach, following his bossy instructions while ignoring the way my skin buzzes with anticipation as he pulls the stencil and places it on my right shoulder blade.

“You sure I had to be half-naked for this tattoo?” I ask, peeking up at him. “I mean, I could’ve changed into a tank top.”

“I like you better this way,” he grunts.

“Your boss is one door away.”

“He’ll give us privacy.”

“Oh, he will? How can you be so sure?”

“‘Cause he knows me.”

“And?” I press.

“He knows this means something to me.”

“This? As in…giving tattoos?” I prod.

Man, he’s broody today.

Getting anything out of him feels like pulling teeth. But I love it—the yin to my yang. I’m so quick to blurt out whatever’s on my mind, dealing with someone who’s more steady, more thoughtful is refreshing.

It’s also driving me nuts right now.

“Tell me,” I beg, twisting to look up at him, but he presses his hand between my shoulder blades and keeps me in place.

“Stop fidgeting.”

With a huff, I quit moving and stay still, staring at his black, scuffed-up sneakers beneath the edge of the seat. “Then answer me. I wanna know why Jos knows this means something to you and whatthisis in the first place.”

The air is cold against my skin as he peels away the temporary stencil, admires his work, and grunts, “Marking you.”

“You wanna mark me, Milo?” I glance behind me again––this time he lets me––and find him so deep in his element, he’s never looked sexier. All narrowed gaze and broody perfectionist. He’s gorgeous.

When he catches me staring, he brushes away a few strands of my long hair from my back, bends closer, and kisses my shoulder blade softly, holding my gaze hostage the entire time. “Yeah, babe. I wanna mark you.”

Butterflies assault my stomach, but I push them away and tease, “It’s not your name or anything, is it?”

---