At first, she gives me an adorable pout, but it quickly transforms into a happy smile when I sit up and reach for the bottom of my shirt. In fact, she claps her hands together like she’s about to see a fancy magician’s trick. Not wanting to disappoint, I remove my shirt with a flourish.

“Ta-da!” It’s corny, and we both laugh as toss it to the floor.

Then, her eyes go sharp, and she leans in closer, bottom lip once again pinched between her teeth. I sit still.

The weight of her gaze is heavy, and I’m suddenly self-conscious. These tattoos were always for me. They’re a part of me as much as any of my limbs. And the same way I hope she finds my face attractive, I want Holly to like this piece of me as well.

“Can I guess?” She looks at me through her lashes, and my breath comes and goes a bit ragged.

“Guess?”

“You said they’re all based on books. Can I guess which ones?”

Mute, I nod.

“The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.” She points to the lamppost in front of a snowy tree on the underside of my bicep.

I nod again, smiling at her triumphant grin.

Now, it turns into a sort of game. I lean back on my arms, so she has a better view.

“Hmm.” She runs her hands over my skin, tracing some of my illustrations. And, hell, if this isn’t one of the most erotic things she could do to me.

I want her to use her mouth.

“Darn. Your sexy chest is making me feel like I’ve barely read any books.” She pauses at my hip. “Wait. Is this … is it Snow White? Is that technically a book?”

The tattoo she’s pointing to is an apple that’s half-red, half-gray. “That’s actually The Giver.”

“Oh! I read that one. Where the whole world is gray at first? I get it now.”

Her fingers continue over my stomach, which tenses under her touch.

“Fahrenheit 451?” She’s at my other hip where I have an open book spilling out flames.

“You got it.”

Another happy smile on her part. She removes her hand, only to cup my shoulder and give me a gentle tug. I lean forward, so she can review my back. After a moment, her finger taps a spot.

“Are these Winnie-the-Pooh characters? They look kind of like them but not as cartoony.”

“Those are the originals. My mom read that version to me when I was younger.” Those were some happy memories.

“That’s sweet. Has she seen this?”

My gut tightens, and I shake my head. “My parents don’t really understand my … hobby.”

Truth is, the images meant so much to me, that their dismissive attitudes ended up hurting worse than the needles.

“Well, I think it’s sweet. And I think your artwork is amazing.”

I know exactly where each and every tattoo is on my body, so when Holly presses her lips against my back, I can envision her kiss landing directly in the middle of the Hundred Acre Woods. My blood heats up, and arousal pushes at every inch of my skin. Time to settle down.