Page 63 of Scandal
“Your family tattoo,” I press, knowing she has to have one. All the Creeds do—even Zander, who was basically adopted into the family. “Hendrix’s is obvious and hard to miss, right there on his forearm. The same goes for Zander. Presley’s is a little daintier but just as obvious. Yours? Not so much.”
“Maybe I don’t have one.”
My brow rises. “I highly doubt that.”
She shrugs. “It’s not a requirement. It’s not like they would kick me out if I didn’t get our last name tattooed on my body.”
I don’t know why, but the idea of a secret tattoo hidden somewhere under her clothes makes my dick start to twitch.
What can I say? I’m a big fan of tattoos.
“No, but you love your family. I can’t see you refusing to partake in something that connects all of you together.”
“Is that why you have your coat of arms on your chest?”
“Partially. It’s to remind me where I come from,” I say with a smirk. “Stop trying to change the subject.”
“What if I just show you?”
She rises from her spot on the blanket and shit, I think I might be the one who’s blushing now. She tugs off the cashmere cardigan, revealing the yellow sundress underneath. It’s sleeveless and elegant. Demure, even. My thoughts are far from it.
I’ve seen her bare legs, arms, and shoulders. I know exactly where that tattooisn’t, so I understand what’s about to happen and that I should probably stop it. Or at least turn around.
But I don’t.
I just look up at her and watch as she grips the hem of that dress, pulls it over her head, and tosses it onto the blanket.
Fuuuck.
“Find it yet?”
I double blink as I try not to stare. But, god, I can’t help it. Pale-yellow lace covers her perfect, perky tits. I want to lick and suck every fucking inch.
Clearing my throat, I answer, “Kind of distracted, if I’m being honest.”
But as soon as I say it, I spot those five letters of her last name written out in delicate cursive down the left side of her ribcage, right below her bra. Rising from my spot on the blanket, I take a step toward her and run my thumb over it. “That’s a bold choice for your first tattoo.” Ribs hurt like a fucking bitch.
She shivers. “Myles got his here because he needed to be able to cover it for roles. I liked the idea of it being hidden under my clothes. Like a secret only I know about.”
“And me,” I remind her.
“Can I trust you to keep it?”
“I don’t know.” I grin. “Maybe I should give you a secret of mine just in case.”
I start to unbutton my shirt.
If she’s unsure where this is leading, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she watches with rapt attention as I unfasten each and every button until the shirt parts, and her eyes fall on my naked chest.
I’ve never had an issue with my body. I have a wicked fast metabolism, and I keep in shape. Having women fall all over themselves for years has a way of boosting your confidence too.
But nothing has ever made me feel sexier than the way Mercury looks at me. She watches as I slowly pull off my shirt, one shoulder at a time. Her eyes roam over every inch of skin. Every defined muscle. Every tattoo.
But there’s one she hasn’t seen.
“I’m gonna have to take off my pants,” I warn her, just before I drop them, leaving me standing there in just a pair of boxers.
Her lips twitch, but her eyes stay fixed on my face. “Is this just an excuse to trick me into seeing your dick?”
