Olivia flipped through Cajun’s workbook of tattoos. His chest swelled with pride, pleased that she liked his work. “Would you tattoo me if I wanted one?” “If that’s what you really want.” He looked up from his sketchpad to gauge her seriousness. Sometimes folks mentioned getting ink simply because that was his job and they made polite conversation. “I wouldn’t want you to do it on a whim and regret it later. “You’re really good, and I’ve always wanted one.” That meant she didn’t already have one. A little shudder went through him at the idea of being her first. “Tattoo virgin.” “Yeah.” She fiddled with a lock of hair, coming across a little demure with the action. With their sexual tension off the charts, he’d attempted to keep things light between them the past few days. It’d been two days of sexual hell. To make matters worse, this morning he’d woken to the spicy sounds of her pleasure, soft whimpers a human wouldn’t have heard, but his canine senses picked up with ease.
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