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“Who said anything about kissing?” He turns to me, indignant. “Who said—”
“If I’m kissing anybody, that’s my girl there, so if you’re done drawing on her…”
“Drawing? Motherfucker.” Now he laughs out loud. “I’m gonna ink a dragon on your dick for this, you ungrateful asshole.”
Tessa slides off her chair. “He really means it, you know.” She winks.
“I don’t need another dragon.” I push up my sleeve, displaying the one Zane inked on me years ago. “Enough of dragons.”
Zane is watching me, his face too damn solemn. “Then what do you want, fucker? Just say the word.”
I scratch my jaw. This may be the stupidest idea ever, but what the hell. Trust your heart and all that shit. So I gesture for Zane to come closer, and I whisper my request in his ear.
He leans away and whistles, eyes widening. “Sure about that?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
I want her name inked over my heart. Where it belongs. Where she belongs. In big, bold letters.
He shakes his head. “I’ll schedule an appointment for you. Holy shit, man.” But he looks pleased. I know I’ll get ribbed about it by the guys when they find out, but hell, it’s my body, my life.
And my girl.
So I grab Tessa around the waist and pull her out of the booth, out onto the street, because all I need is to take my girl back home and show her, today and every day, how much she means to me.
