Revenge #4 by JJ Knight Page B

eyes closed, or were you looking at my body?”
    “What do you think made me come so hard? I was looking at you, lying there like a fallen angel in rumpled sheets.”
    I sit up and reach for his arm, running my fingertips lightly over the tattoos. I circle the face of the angel with my fingertip.
    “Who’s this?” I ask.
    He gazes steadily at me, his brown eyes as dark and deep as a mountain lake.
    “She doesn’t have a name,” he says.
    I feel my body relax at his answer. I’m so relieve he didn’t say the angel was Susan.
    “So, she’s your guardian angel? She looks out for you?”
    He grins. “Would you believe I just really liked the art? I met this kid who was hitchhiking. It was a few years ago. I gave him a lift on a rainy night, and he pulled a sheet of paper from his sketchpad and gave it to me as thanks.”
    I look more closely at the tattoo. Some of the lines are faded, like it’s not as new as I first thought.
    “This is original art?” I ask.
    “And I didn’t even get his name. We were in my car together for hours and I didn’t get his name.” He chuckles.
    “Once you’re a famous rock star, he’ll see your photos and find out about the tattoo.”
    “I never thought of that.” He looks down at the tattoo and nods. “I’ll get him to sign his art, right here.”
    “I want one.”
    Dylan’s eyebrows rise. “No. Your body’s perfect just how it is.”
    I move back on the bed, so my back’s against the upholstered headboard. I cross my arms and give Dylan a pouty look.
    “Not just any old tattoo,” I say. “Something from the same artist. A nice tattoo, like a flower. Amanda has a nice one.”
    Dylan scowls. He’s not playing around that he disapproves. He really doesn’t want me to get a tattoo.
    “Amanda is not the most sophisticated girl,” he says.
    “Oh. So Mr. Richie Rich is a snob? I didn’t know that about you. Now the truth comes out.”
    He sighs and looks away from me. “Do what you want, but don’t start getting a bunch of tattoos to impress me. You’re a sweet, simple girl, and that’s all part of your charm.”
    I give him a look of disbelief. “Simple?”
    He reaches out and grabs me by the ankle. Through clenched teeth, he says, “Simple, not simple-minded.” He yanks my leg, pulling me toward him across the bed. “Mmm. Naked.”
    “What the hell, Dylan? I’m simple?” My voice is high-pitched.
    He licks his lips, his eyes roving up and down my body.
    He growls, “Don’t pick a fight with me now. We’re spending the weekend together, just me and you. Save the drama for your girlfriends.”
    My eyes are wide, and I’m speechless.
    “What?” he says. “What now?”
    “Drama? You’re the one who climbs in through windows and drives like a criminal on the run. We only met when your hired bodyguard mugged me. I got a black eye!”
    His eyes twinkle, and the corner of his mouth edges up. “Your eye wasn’t that black. More like a little red and puffy.”
    “Dylan Wolf, I don’t know whether to slap that smirk off your face, or kiss you.”
    He lowers his eyelids part-ways and gives me a sly look. “Why don’t you do both, and then fuck some sense into me?”
    He shifts his body, drawing my attention downward. My eyebrows raise in surprise when I reach his lap. He’s already recovered, and he’s bigger and harder than ever.
    I jump forward, my hand raised like I’m about to slap him.
    He doesn’t flinch.
    I slow my hand, just tapping his cheek lightly.
    His nostrils flare.
    We glare at each other in a staring contest. I break first, and then we move in unison, grasping each other. Our lips mash together and our bodies collide.
    For the next hour, we tangle the bedsheets in every position.
    He tells me to say the word if he goes too far. I won’t say no, daring him instead to take me harder and faster.
    We finish with him holding me against the wall, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist.
    He might just be starting his career, but Dylan