I forced my arms into action and got them round him.
Held him tight.
A stolen embrace when he was closest, and most lost, to me.
I was utterly sex-dazed but it wasn’t an ideal situation for a languorous afterglow. Caspian was heavy and the glass was hard and my arse had that wet, well-fucked feeling that made me slightly self-conscious about the mess I might be making on his desk.
“You’d better rescue your notes,” I mumbled, “because I’m seriously—oh fuck.” Whatever he’d written was nothing but sweaty, pale-blue smears. “I’m really sorry. Was…was it important?”
“Yes.” A pause. “Which is why I memorized what I needed.”
I’d been so ready to feel awful that I ended up giggling instead. “And then wrote on me anyway?”
“I’m afraid”—he looked almost abashed—“I wasn’t thinking all that clearly.”
“It’s okay. It was superhot.”
His fingers followed my tattoo over my hip. “But I know I wanted to claim a little piece of you.”
“You can claim all of me.”
“My beautiful Arden.” He smiled at me, but there was something almost sad about it, his hands soft on my body. “In some ways, you are unconquerable. And I wouldn’t have it otherwise.”
“Write on me again?” I wriggled enticingly…if somewhat stickily.
“Write what?”
“Anything you like. How about Caspian + Arden 4 Eva in a big heart?”
That earned me an exasperated look.
I prodded him with my foot. “Please? It doesn’t even have to be romantic.”
“I’m not literary like you.”
“You mean you’ve never stumbled across some words arranged into an order you quite liked? Ever?”
“It’s not that.” He picked the pen back up and absently fiddled with it, twisting its lid round and round between his fingers. “I’m afraid I find it rather exposing.”
“Caspian, I came to your office practically naked.”
“Yes, but you chose to do that.”
Oh fuck. He had a point. I was being super pushy—and one person’s risky titillation was another person’s excruciating nightmare. “I’m sorry. Ignore me. You don’t have to.”
He leaned down—smooshing our too-hot bodies together in a way that was only okay because we’d just had the best sex ever—and kissed me. “No, I’ll do it. I just need to think what to write.”
“But I don’t want you to do something that makes you uncomfortable.”
“You do many uncomfortable things for me.”
I blushed, very aware I was sort of…dripping on his desk. “They’re things I like doing, though.”
“And, in return, there are ways I’m willing to be uncomfortable for you.”
He slid the lid off the pen, found a bit of me he liked that wasn’t too sweaty, and began to write. I couldn’t see much except his head bent over me. But that just made me feel what he was doing all the more intensely. The sharp-delicate pressure made my toes curl. And imagine what it might be like if it was a blade he held.
“What does it say?” I asked when he was done—since all I could make out was a ribbon of blue across my hip and stomach.
