Page 85 of The Heart Breaker

“You want me to design a tattoo for you?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He holds my gaze. “You’re talented as hell. I want your art on my body.”

Something warm flickers low in my chest, but I shut it down immediately.

Instead, I smirk and spin the pen between my fingers. “Alright, but I don’t want to hear you complaining when I give you a Hello Kitty tramp stamp.”

He snorts, and before he has a chance to realize what I’m doing, I plant my palm in the middle of his chest and push him back toward the couch.

He drops back with a grunt, his brows shooting up. “Christ, Prescott,” he says, a laugh slipping out when I swing a leg over him and settle in his lap. “Didn’t know that would turn you on.”

I roll my eyes, even as heat creeps into my face. “You wish,” I shoot back, lifting his arm over his head, stretching his side so the skin pulls tight where I want to draw. “Hold still unless you want me to draw a dick.”

He scoffs, but he stays still.

My knees press into the couch on either side of him. I tuck my hair behind my ear and start sketching the design that came to me the second he told me to draw something.

I can feel him watching me the whole time, but I keep my eyes on the pen moving over his skin instead.

When I’m done, I lean back and examine my work, smiling. “Alright,” I say, capping the pen and letting out a breath. “Done.”

He pushes himself up, shifting me with him until I have to slide off his lap, then heads for the mirror. He twists a little to see what I drew.

I press my lips together, trying not to laugh when his brows draw together, studying the grim reaper’s hand down his side. He meets my eyes in the mirror and shoots me a look.

“What?” I say, a laugh slipping out. “I could’ve drawn a dick. This is way nicer.”

He shakes his head, but I catch his mouth twitch. “You’re lucky I like it,” he says, heading back toward me.

My eyes widen before I can stop them. “You… do?”

He nods.

I wet my bottom lip, suddenly feeling shy. “You’re not actually going to get that tattooed, right?” I say with a nervous laugh.

“Of course I am.” He lifts a brow as he closes the space between us, bracing his hands on the counter behind me. “I told you. I want your art on my body.”

My stomach flips and turns, and before I can help it, my gaze drops to his mouth. And when I look up, I notice his eyes are on my lips too.

I swallow, my lips parting, but then a sharp beep cuts through the room from the kitchen, and I jump back.

Cole drags a hand over his face and steps away from me. “You hungry?” he asks.

“Starving,” I say, swallowing hard.

He heads into the kitchen, grabs a dish towel, and opens the oven before he pulls out a pizza.

“I put it in before I went out for a smoke,” he says, setting the tray on the stove. “It’s a cheap frozen pizza. That okay with you, princess?”

My eyes narrow. “You think I’m a snob?”

He shuts the oven with his hip and looks back at me over his shoulder, one brow raised. “You forget I’ve known you for years.”

“As Chase’s girlfriend,” I remind him, folding my arms across my chest. “You don’t actually know me.”

He turns to face me, leaning back against the counter, arms crossing over his bare chest. His gaze drags down my body in a way that makes my skin go hot before it lifts back to my face, his lips pulling into a smirk.

“I know what you taste like.”