“No. I don’t like them on me. I prefer to leave my skin unblemished.” “You’re so prim and proper.” “Not all of us can wear tattoos. They look good on you, though.” “Did you just admit to liking my tattoos?” “I didn’t say I like them.” “Fuck me. You do. You’re blushing, baby.” “You’re dreaming.” I push away, and this time, I manage to disentangle myself. “I’m going to make breakfast.” “Aw, don’t be shy. Come here.” He opens both arms, grinning like an idiot as I stride to the bathroom.
