“You’re a big man. Imposing. Intense.” One shoulder lifted. “I like to see the skin where the tat would go. What your musculature is like. A bold tattoo needs to sit just right.”

“Are you trying to get me naked?”

She smirked. “I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait.”

He pulled the T-shirt off and she hummed. That hum was a caress.

She stood. “I need you up so I can get a better look.”

He obeyed, staying very close. She didn’t move away. Instead she looked up into his face. “Goddamn.”

As compliments went, it was a pretty good one.

She circled him, near enough to brush the heat of her body against his skin. Her palms smoothed over his shoulders, across his back, down his spine. She traced the tattoo on his right shoulder.

“Decent work. I can touch it up here.” Her fingertips brushed a spot of sensitive skin.

“Does it need that?”

“Only if you want it to look nice.”

He turned his head and she was so very close. A quick movement and his hand cupped the back of her neck as he took that mouth of hers in a kiss. Hard and fast.

Her taste rushed through his system like wildfire as she opened to him. Her tongue slid along his as he claimed, took, demanded.

She kissed like she meant it. Matching him move for move. He’d kissed women before. But this woman knew what she was about. Took her time, tasting him. A nip of his bottom lip sent a shiver through him. He hauled her close, the sweetness of her curves against him. He was hard. So f**king hard.

All from a kiss.

When he got this woman naked they were going to set shit on fire.

He eased back, taking her bottom lip between his teeth a moment. “That was as good as I imagined.”

Her smile was the furthest thing from coy possible.

“Dinner should be finished soon.”

“Where are the other two tattoos?” She didn’t step back and he didn’t let go, but he had to move to show her.

Reluctantly he pulled away and unbuttoned his fly enough to show her the star below his belly button.

“My.” She licked her lips.

“Is that a good my?”

Her gaze locked with his. “You know it is.”

He guessed he did. He worked hard on his body. It gave him somewhere to channel all his sexual energy after the divorce. When he’d discovered he liked things his ex never would have allowed. And then he got concerned it wasn’t normal or healthy.

But he was far too old to worry about it any longer. All this time he’d dated on and off. Fucked when he could, around Carrie’s schedule because she was his priority. He’d had tastes here and there, never wanting to go too far. Never fully trusting any of those women to give him what he needed, or to let go of all that dark desire he harbored. He had felt that it wasn’t worth it to really go full out with someone unless he was going to be with her full time. What he wanted, what he liked, wasn’t a game.

And it had been fine.

But with this woman it was different. She was not fragile or shy. She was not coy. She wore her sexuality openly. She was the kind of woman a man could be an equal with.

He liked that a great deal.

“Is the other tattoo on your cock?”

He barked a laugh. “Fuck no. I like my c**k too much to let anyone jab it with a needle.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Good. Cock tattoos are not hot. You, on the other hand are very, very hot.”

“The other tattoo is on my thigh. A small one. I’m thinking of getting it covered.”

“Your ex-wife’s initials? Wedding anniversary?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“No. But you don’t seem the type to get tweety bird on a weekend bender or whatever. So if you wanted to remove it or cover it, I figure it’s something you don’t want to be reminded of anymore.”

“I nearly said it was Yosemite Sam. But then I didn’t think I could keep a straight face. It’s our wedding date. She got one too, though I imagine she’s covered it. At first I left it there to remind me of my mistake. Now it’s just numbers inked into my skin.”

He put his shirt back on and she made a little disappointed sound that brought a smile again.

“What’s the star for?”

“I liked it.”

“I like stars.” She pulled her shirt up and he saw the smattering of stars across her belly and up her side.

“I like yours better.”

“Good to know.”

The kitchen timer began to ding and with a sigh he turned. “Dinner’s ready.”

3

“You’re a pretty good cook.” Truth be told, she’d sort of expected him to have a cook who also cleaned and took care of him.

“Carrie and I learned a lot together. She’s better than I am. Mainly because my mother insisted Carrie be taught to run a household.” He snorted.

“You disagree?”

“My mother’s perspective is that it’s a woman’s duty. Mine is, she should know because she’s a person who will be an adult on her own.”

He was a surprise. Not that she wasn’t around men who would raise their daughters to be independent women, but he clearly came from an established, moneyed family. She knew through Erin that the family matriarch was all about position in the community and all that jazz. But her sons, the two eldest anyway, were pretty open.

She nodded. “She’s going to college so she’ll need to know how to cook.”