The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,22

his ribs.

“Wow,” I say.

He tilts his head. “Good wow?” he asks, but by the cocky grin on his face, he seems to think he has me pegged.

His strength was evident when he held me, but now I’m faced with the cut and carve of muscles just beneath the skin. He picks up both our drinks and comes toward me, ink rippling over his olive-toned skin.

“You said you had some tattoos.”

“Did I? More than some.”

I put a hand up to stop him from getting in the bath, suddenly and strangely fascinated by this new body.

“What?” he asks, following my gaze to his chest. “Do they bother you? They’re just pictures.”

“No. I don’t know.” The words come out raspy. Despite his warning, I didn’t imagine him to look like a piece of art. I didn’t expect to uncover a new layer. “Can I touch?”

He laughs. “Of course.”

I run my fingertips over the most vivid one, a bunch of flowers on his pec. They’re the same purple-blue color of his eyes. I’ve never been with a man who looked like this. The tattoos are new to me. As are such defined muscles. He looks as though he spends all his free time at the gym. I don’t think he does, though. As beautiful as they are, I’m not sure how I feel about the tattoos. They’re loud. Permanent. I can’t decide until I know what they mean, but I’m not about to ask. That’s too personal.

“Keep touching me like that,” he dares. “See where it leads.”

I pull my hand back fast, as if his skin burns. Not because I’m afraid of where it’ll lead, but because I zoned out for a second admiring them. I forgot where I was, and I always make a point to be aware of my surroundings.

I take the drinks from him. Andrew gets in the bath and sinks down. “Fuck,” he groans, setting his head back against the lip and closing his eyes. “Really? I can’t believe I never do this.”

My insides tighten. He looks masculine as ever, even up to his neck in bubbles. I’m already getting hot for him again. I went a year without sex, and suddenly I don’t want to wait minutes for it.

He opens his eyes and reaches a long arm over the side to stroke the outside of my thigh. “Coming?” he asks.

“I’m waiting for it to cool a little.”

“But it’s perfect now.” He eyes me up and down. “Turn around. You have the best ass I’ve ever seen.”

I’m sure it’s an exaggeration, but nonetheless, my body warms under his approval. I do as he says and face the bathroom.

“Incredible,” he says.

Suddenly, I’m alone again, and I don’t want to be. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Get in here,” he says. “Put that sweet ass in my lap.”

I move a little slower than him, but soon I’m submerged. He pulls me back against his chest. I’d prefer to sit opposite him, the less intimate of the two options, but his arms are already strong around me. I’m not used to this much affection, especially from a one-night stand. I don’t mind it, but it takes a little extra effort to remind myself every few minutes it’s not real.

Tentatively, I lay my head back against his shoulder. “Is it everything you dreamed it would be?” I ask.

“And more,” he says. “Between work, exercise, and having a daughter who thinks I’m a tree she can climb, I can be hard on my body. Sometimes I forget to slow down.”

I shift in his grip. With two sentences he’s painted me a picture of what he has—a full life—but also what he doesn’t—someone to remind him to take care of himself. Like a puzzle, pieces of him are falling into place. I might prefer our conversations weren’t so personal, but I hadn’t even realized what was happening. We’re getting to know each other.

Silence stretches between us. It’s comfortable, but soon, comfortable silence begins to feel more intimate than casual conversation. “What do you do?” I ask.

“I own an auto shop. Car and bike repairs mostly. Some restoration of classic cars.”

“I’ve never dated a mechanic,” I say. Andrew’s vastly different from anyone I’ve been with, but not just because of what he does.

“I’m more than a mechanic,” he says.

“Oh, I know.” My face, already warm from the temperature, gets hot. For the first time, I wonder if it’s uncomfortable for him to be in another man’s apartment, especially one as nice as this one. “I didn’t mean to suggest you