“Any birthmarks I should be aware of?” His color is still high, like his irritation. “None.” “Any tattoos?” “Didn’t get a good look at my body the first night we met?” “I was a little busy handing you your ass. Besides, your towel—unlike mine—stayed put. So? Any ink decorations?” “Are you truly asking if I have a snowflake tattooed on my buttocks.” I grin. “Yes.” Though he still scowls, though his neck is still corded, his timbre mollifies when he says, “I do not.”
