Page 26 of Jaz
Chapter Eight
“Are all these yours? In this book?" Jaz called from the living room. He flipped through a portfolio full of pictures of her designs and jewelry.
“Yeah,” she said from the doorway of her bedroom.
She’d been searching for a while for something to wear that wouldn’t rub on the candle tattoo. She’d put her hair up in two little clips and she looked amazing. Except she was still topless.
Jaz pointed to her bare breasts. “You going like that?”
Mandi put her hands on her hips and pushed her shoulders back, thrusting her chest forward. Those tits stood proud, capped by the tightest, prettiest nipples. She shot him a smug look, full of female power and feminine knowing. “You don't like it?”
“I love it. But …” If his grin mirrored his thoughts … “I don’t share.” Damn. Could he sound a little more possessive? And it wasn't that he didn’t share. He’d shared women with Vinter and Dallon. But that was then. This is now.
Sharing Mandi wasn’t happening. Ever.
“Oh.” She shrugged and dropped her hands. “Well, I don’t either.”
Not a problem with him. Mandi was more than enough to wear his ass out. She disappeared into her room again, and he could hear her muttering about nothing to wear.
“How about this?” she asked, stepping back into view.
“This” was a black top that bared her upper back. It tied around her neck from the front, leaving a plunging neckline. “Wow.” He and his dick were in agreement. She looked … delectable. “I like it. Gonna wear those sexy-ass boots I can’t stop thinking about?”
She laughed, and it sank deep beneath his skin. “Would you like me to leave you alone with my boots for a while?”
“Only if you’re in ’em.”
“Hadn’t planned on wearing those, no, but I do have another pair you might like.”
“Honey, any boots on you, any heels at all, and I’m a happy man.”
She slipped away, but returned carrying a pair of ankle boots. The heel was higher, the toe more pointed. These might be his new favorite pair. Hot damn.
“You sure you don’t want me to leave you alone with my boots? I can.”
“No.” When she laughed again, he gave her a playful sneer and his back. He was ready to tackle her to the floor and feel those heels dig into his ass. Which, would happen before the night was over.
He went back to flipping through her designs. “You do nice work.”
“Thank you.”
“In all seriousness, you should consider making some things for the shop. I’d love to carry a display.”
“I’ll think about it. Especially after I take some of those classes I was telling you about. There’s so much I want to learn, to expand on, to perfect, you know?”
She’d come to stand at his shoulder and her breath on his skin … Dear God … Around her he was nothing more than a walking hard-on. Her body was so close that the clothes she wore brushed against him and there was only so much a man like him could take.
“Yeah …” She placed a kiss between his shoulder blades and his words died in his throat.
“Do your tattoos mean anything?”
She’d dropped her hands to the hem of his t-shirt and slid her palms up his back, lifting the shirt as she went. He gulped air and snapped the book shut. “Everything. They mean everything.” Her tongue licked in different spots, and he couldn’t help the shudder that went through him. “Each …” He had to force himself to keep his hands at his sides, to let her explore his body as she wanted. “Each one tells a story.”
“The bars down the center of your back?” She traced the lines from top to bottom with both lips and fingertips.
“Jail.”
“Eagle on your shoulder?”
