Page 10 of The Wishing Game

My skin is slick with perspiration as he spoons me from behind, his body still joined with mine. He trails light kisses over my neck, small touches that ignite me all over again.

"I think you'll like this last surprise even more," he murmurs in my ear as he trails his fingers down the valley of my breasts.

"I don't think anything can top today, Nikki." I smile languidly.

"Oh, I'll let you be the judge of that." He smiles as he pulls himself from me. I whimper at the sudden loss of his warmth, my arms still reaching for him. Going to the storage area, he pulls open one of the drawers and takes out a small box.

"What's that?" I ask as I pull myself into a sitting position. My skin is covered in goosebumps, and I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to preserve heat.

He places the box on the bed, then opens it and lays the contents in the open.

I shuffle closer to get a better look, but I still don't know what it is.

"It's a tattoo kit," he explains.

"Tattoo kit?" I repeat, confused. "Why would you need a tattoo kit?"

"Because you're going to use it on me."

Now I'm even more confused.

"I don't follow," I frown.

"I know you're self-conscious about your marks, Luce. This way, we'll both have etchings on our skin."

I stare at him, flabbergasted. He... he wants me to tattoo him so I won't be the only one with marks on my skin?

"Nikki... I..."

I don't know what to say. I simply stare at him, my mouth half-open as I try to come to terms with the enormity of what he just proposed.

"I'm guessing that means this tops the other surprises?" he asks playfully.

"You'll let me ink your skin? Just like that?"

He nods solemnly.

"Just like that, Luce. Anything you want. I'll be your canvas." He winks at me.

He sets about assembling the tattoo gun, and it soon becomes clear that this isn't his first time handling it—he'd studied it before.

My heart beats erratically in my chest as I imagine him at night, poring over the instruction manual to figure out how to install it—all so he could surprise me.

How many nights has he spent just like this? Focusing on my happiness rather than his?

His regard touches me in a way nothing else ever has, and my entire being becomes so full of love for him that I can't stop myself from reaching out, framing his face between my hands and kissing him deeply. In that one kiss, I channel all the emotion that's surging through my veins and that threatens to overwhelm me—all this love that's infiltrated every cell of my body.

"I love you, too, Luce," he whispers, almost as if he can read my mind.

My lips tug up. "Okay, I'll do it."

He smiles at me, and when he's done assembling the kit, he sanitizes the area and places some paper towels on the bed. He then demonstrates briefly how to use it before lying on his back and pointing to his naked chest.

"My chest is your canvas. Do whatever you like with it."

"Whatever?" I raise my brows. "You know I'm not very good at drawing."

"But you have superb penmanship. So write me something. Write me a love letter."

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