“I think I can change that.”
She sure does when she kisses me like there’s no one around. There isn’t. Which means we don’t have to stop.
So we don’t. For averylong time.
Only when another ship blares a horn do we pull apart. I hold her hand all the way back to the car and kiss her again at her door, and again in the car. I’m hungry for her. This trip isn’t enough. I want all her hours, all of her days. I want her.
And I have a sneaking suspicion I’m very near to falling in love with her.
She yawns in the middle of our kiss and I pull back with a laugh. “Tired?”
“A little.” She blushes and I love the glimpse into a more vulnerable side of her. “I just need snacks.”
“Snacks it is.” I start the car.
I locate a convenience store, only realizing how tired I really am when the bright lights hit my eyes. It doesn’t seem to bother Karli. She practically skips around the store gathering unhealthy snacks. Nothing with sugar is safe.
The cashier rings us up, and Karli spots a row of quarter machines toward the back exit.
She extends two dollars to the cashier and asks for change.
“Do you need a bouncy ball?” I tease.
“Just go to the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I chuckle but do so anyway.
Two minutes later, I’m leaning against the hood of the bug, gazing at the stars when she walks out.
“Did you get the ring that will turn your finger green or seven Skittles?”
“Haha. Neither, actually. Roll up your sleeve.”
I frown and don’t move. So she grabs my arm instead.
I let her take it because I have no willpower when it comes to her. She turns my arm to reveal my tattoo, then pulls a temporary tattoo out of a cardboard sleeve. She holds it up, twisting it until nearly all the previous letters are covered.
“A butterfly. Were the unicorns gone?”
She tosses another tattoo sleeve at me. I open it and laugh at the pig with wings. “I’ll stick with the butterfly.”
“Good choice. Hold it right there.”
I do as I’m told, and she grabs her water from the car. She twists off the cap and drops some onto her fingers, then gently dabs it over the paper until it’s wet then presses it into my skin, leaving her hand there for longer than the recommended twenty seconds. I’m sure she can feel my pulse beating out of control. If she turned her head an inch to her right I’d be able to kiss her. But she doesn’t, so I watch her instead.
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
All too soon she pulls her hand away. But my eyes have never left her. She can tattoo me all she wants. With these, not a real needle.
“Perfect,” she whispers, running the tip of her fingers along it.
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Now we match,” she says before releasing my arm.
I snatch the hem of her shirt, and her breath catches. “In more ways than one.”
I’m not talking about the silly shirts or the tattoos. I mean her. She’s my match.
