I looked up and saw he had his hands on his h*ps and was towering over me. I couldn’t read his expression mainly because it was unreadable.
I decided I didn’t like him towering over me. I also decided I didn’t like so many clothes on him. He looked far better naked.
So I stood up and started to unbutton his shirt.
“What?” I said to his shirt, concentrating on my task.
“Burn that f**kin’ skirt.”
My hands stilled and my head snapped back.
“Excuse me?”
“That skirt. Burn it.”
I was confused, I liked my skirt, no, I loved it.
“Why?” I asked.
His hands came to my shirt and he pulled it up, my arms went with it and he whipped it off.
“Mamita, just don’t wear it again.”
I decided to give in, not wear it in front of him but not burn it. I could wear it on Crete and he’d never know.
“Oh, all right,” I agreed but I didn’t sound happy about it (because I wasn’t).
His hands came to my h*ps and mine went back to his shirt.
“Now, what did Lee try to stop?” He went back to his earlier subject.
I’d kind of lost track of things so my mind rewound the evening and I remembered Eddie’s fight with Jerry which Lee didn’t even see and I got confused.
“Me stun gunning Jerry, my father’s henchman?” I guessed as I finished with the buttons, lifted my hands and pulled the shirt off his shoulders.
His hands left my h*ps when I leaned into him and tugged the flannel down his arms. Then I whipped it around, shrugged it on and started to button the two buttons at my br**sts while his hands came back to me, this time to the front button and zip on my skirt.
“Nope, Eddie called, told me about Jerry. Lee knows I know about that. What else happened tonight, after the fight?”
I pulled in my lips and tried to think as Hector slid down the zip on my skirt (and thinking was not easy to do). I decided to help him and lifted the hem of the flannel to get it out of his way. He slid the skirt over my h*ps and pushed down, it fell to my ankles but Hector’s hands, and body, froze.
Then he moved, one hand went low on my right hip, the other one went to the side of my belly by my hip and he framed the bandage that was at my hip bone with his hands.
“What the f**k?” he muttered then his eyes cut to me.
“Oh yeah!” I yelled, even though he was right there, barely a foot away. “I got a tattoo.”
Hector’s brows went up and I smiled at him.
“That must be what Lee was talking about,” I informed him. “He didn’t think it was a good idea. Neither did Eddie. Or Hank, for that matter. Tex thinks I’m a nut. Duke and Mace liked it, though, and the girls thought it was aces. So do I. Look!”
I bent over and peeled the bandage away, exposing the brand new tattoo, it and my skin glistening with tattoo goo.
It was a black panther, fierce, graceful and snarling.
I loved it.
“It’s a black panther,” I informed Hector unnecessarily as his hands were still framing it, his body was leaned slightly to the side, his head cocked and his eyes were locked on my hip. “I thought my idea was lame at first. But I couldn’t think of anything else that represented you.” I noticed his head jerk and his eyes slice to me but I didn’t process it, I kept talking, “Then I told the artist guy about you, that you had black hair and black eyes that could go really intense and you were a badass and I liked the way you moved, graceful and in control, like a cat. He sketched that and me and all the girls, even Shirleen, thought it was perfect, so, I said –”