Lips part, lashes flutter, and her back contracts on a gasped breath. “You have a tattoo,” I growl, even though I’m fucking overjoyed by the discovery. “Should I have told you?” Her question is breathless. “You should have shown me. Sooner. Months ago. Fuck me, Summer.” “I want to,” she practically whines, wiggling under my steel grip that still has her pinned to the bed.
