Chapter 85

Remy was a mural of color, all down his arms, across his chest, down to his waistline, and as high as his clavicle, likely around his back the same way. Marlow had seen hints of tattoos before, mostly if Remy’s sleeves were rolled up, but he hadn’t expected so much art.

It was only when he reached out to trace the faded shadows of a Celtic cross on Remy’s ribs that he noticed the scar tissue beneath.

Remy tugged Marlow closer and kissed him hard. He spun them, and the bed gave way as they fell onto the mattress. Marlow got lost in the feeling of Remy’s skin, the smooth ink and bubbled texture of scars. He got lost in the weight of Remy above him, in the press of his hands and slide of Remy’s tongue.

Until that tongue moved to the sensitive skin of Marlow’s neck, and a hand drifted to his waistband to undo his jeans.

He sucked in a breath. He wanted this. It felt good. It could be so good with Remy, he just didn’t usually get past this part.