“Just hold still, Shorty.”
I try to slap him away again, but he deflects with his elbow and swipes the ointment across my skin.
I brace myself, but his touch is so light it doesn’t hurt at all. It… feels good. Soothing.
Bastard. It would be better if this hurt. If I could be angry over him causing me pain.
Watching him carefully rub my finger is too much, so I close my eyes.
But that’s a mistake, too, because now there’s nothing to distract me from his touch. From the warmth of his hold on me.
My thighs press together under the blankets.
Up and down, his fingers slide over mine.
The irritated skin has already cooled, but my blood is heating, and I can’t take any more.
“Okay.” I pull my hand away and hope he doesn’t notice how breathy I sound.
My eyes are still closed, and I wait for him to stand, to leave, but he doesn’t.
There’s movement. The sound of rustling clothes and the jar being… set back down on the nightstand?
I crack my eyes open.
And then they widen all the way.
“What…？” I sit up and shove at Dominic’s arm. “What is that?”
His shirt is unbuttoned, and he runs his ointment-covered fingers across his neck one last time before he lets me push his arm down.
“Dominic!” I gasp.
“You were right, Angel. It’s only fair.”
I blink. And blink again.
“Just the one?” I ask, not able to help myself.
“But it’s big.” Dom smirks. “And size matters.”
I lean closer, shaking my head while I stare at the giant name tattooed across the base of his neck.
My name.
Valentine. In big black letters.
Not able to stop myself, I reach out and trace the V.
It’s the same font that was used on me.
“This doesn’t make up for what you did,” I whisper, even as I trace the A and the L.
“Of course not.” His voice is quiet, too.
I hadn’t even noticed he had a strip of bare skin left, but it fits perfectly.
When I get to the center line of the E, I trace it, then drag my finger across the rest of the letters.
“I still don’t forgive you.” My finger slides down the center of his chest, stopping on the skull.
“You shouldn’t.”
I drop my hand down onto my lap. “I’m going to go to sleep now.”
“You probably should.”
I don’t actually expect him to leave me alone, so I’m surprised when he stands.
But he doesn’t leave the room or get into bed. He grabs the jar off the nightstand, then backs up to the armchair in the corner of the room.
He sets the jar down on the armrest, then takes his shirt off the rest of the way.
And his belt.
And then he’s undoing his pants and kicking them off when they hit the ground.
Boxers. He’s left in nothing but boxers, and they’re not doing anything to hide the fact that he’s rock-hard beneath them.
“W-what are you doing?” I know I should lie down and face the other way, but I can’t. I just can’t turn away from him.
“There wasn’t room to add Til Death next to your name. So I had to find somewhere else to put it.”
Speechless, I stare as he pushes down the waistband of his boxers to his hips.
I don’t even notice that the patch of hair trailing down from his belly button has been shaved. I can’t possibly focus on that. Because there, right above Dom’s cock—like directly above the base of his fucking cock—are the words Til Death.
Big block letters to match his Valentine.
A lewd, oversized version of the tiny Til Death on my fingertip.
“You’re insane.” I almost laugh at the absurdity of it all. Except I’m too turned on to laugh. I want to trace the letters on this one, too.
“More often than not,” Dom admits as he drops into the chair. Lounging back, he dips his fingers in the ointment and rubs it over the fresh ink.
I want to be the one doing that.
His eyes stay on me as he rubs over the letters.
Not able to take it anymore, I drop onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
This is insane.
I keep staring.
For about five seconds. Then I turn my head to look back at Dominic.
And I have to bite my lip to trap the moan trying to come out of my throat because he’s pushing his boxers lower.
CHAPTER 30
Dom
The look on Valentine’s face makes every second I spent under the needle worth it.
Her eyes are locked on my lap, and when I pull the band of my boxers low enough for my dick to spring free, she sucks in an inhale. Like she was holding her breath, waiting to see it.