Page 48 of Headstrong Like Us
His eyes dance over my cheeks and mouth.He wants me to kiss him.
My lip quirks, not giving in that easily.
Maximoff makes a point of looking at me directly. “You were your high school’s valedictorian, and you don’t even know what a question mark means?”
I let out a short laugh. “Always a precious smartass.” I straighten up; at six-three I’m only an inch taller, a fact I’d normally use to irritate him—but I’m too interested in wherever the hell he’s headed. “I just don’t understand the question mark in this context.”
“I’d rather not murder my dad,” he explains and gestures to the chalk word. “Because if I suddenly have a DC-related tattoo, there’ll be a fucking homicide. Hence, the indecision.”
See, thirty minutes ago Maximoff suddenly went from talking about the TV showThe Flashto blow jobs to Plato’sRepublic, and somehow we landed on tattoos.
Specifically, he told me,“I’m going to get a tattoo.”
I almost swallowed my gum. I didn’t predict that toevercome out of his mouth. He’s been content with having no ink. No piercings.
Not even out of sibling camaraderie.
Maximoff’s confidence of knowing what he wants and doesn’t want on his body has always been extremely attractive.
After the shock wore off, I spit out my gum, and I asked him what he wanted tattooed. Partly, I wonder if he’s just entertaining the idea.
That’s when he started doing the predictable Wolf Scout thing. And he wrote out this list.
“Okay, so no Batman tattoo.” I look him over, feeling like I’m missing something here. He doesn’t seemthatuncertain.
In fact, he was really fucking confident when he said he was getting a tattoo in the first place.
“Have you thought about this before?” I wonder.
He rolls the chalk between his fingers. “Somewhat.”
“Somewhat?” I repeat, not believing him. “You’ve definitely processed this already.”
He doesn’t deny.
My mouth parts. “You know what you want, don’t you?”
Maximoff waits too long before shaking his head with force. Red creeps up his neck, and I laugh. Yeah, this shit has to be good. Or else he wouldn’t be drawing it out.
“You didn’t list your tattoo idea yet, have you?” My face hurts. “What is it?”
He glares at the ceiling like I’m hitting a nerve.
I keep going. “Is it a teabag?” I try not to laugh, just in case it’s actually a teabag.
He grimaces. “I don’t know what I want yet.” He’s not that convincing, but he rotates towards my chest. His tough eyes melt over the inked wings on my neck. “Maybe I need some inspiration, asshole.”
I soak in his strong-willed demeanor. Like no matter what anyone says or does, he’ll never be pushed down. Shit, he’s drop-dead-fucking-beautiful and seriously hot, but it’s just way too fun to tease the fuck out of him.
My brows lift. “He’s trying to get me naked.”
“For tattoo inspiration.”
I smile. He’s not fooling anyone. Still, I’m about to take off my shirt, but Maximoff is aggressive. He’s already gripping the hem of my Third Eye Blind tee. He pulls the fabric over my head, and our breaths shallow as he tosses the fabric aside.
Arousal snaps red-hot electricity in my veins. I run my silver-ringed fingers through my hair. Bright orange dye fading from the white strands.
“Don’t move,” Maximoff orders.
