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across to her other hip and up her rib cage. Up each of her inner arms she had thorns and roses that wrapped around her biceps and shoulders.
    “I see three tattoos. Where are the others?”
    She turned, pulling her hair aside. Across her back spilled ivy and purple flowers.
    “What are the flowers?”
    “Forget-me-nots.”
    Her voice, threaded with tension, tugged at him, drawing him closer.
    “Eula?” He traced over the word that had been woven into a knot of ivy.
    “My great-grandmother.”
    Each time she told him something personal it felt like a victory. “Ah. This work is stunning.”
    On her back at each hip sat a triangle with swirls.
    “What are the triangles?”
    “Triquetra on each side. Same basic concept, but the right is based on the disc I used to put in my 45 singles back when I had a record player. The other, well, it’s got personal meaning.”
    “Enlighten me.”
    “The nature of three. Mind, body, spirit. Maiden, mother, crone. The three levels of earth. That design is Celtic. Like I said earlier, Brody did all my work. He’s an artist, isn’t he?”
    Jonah didn’t want any other man’s name on her lips. Even though he knew Brody Brown was a man who appeared to adore his wife and two daughters. Jonah knew too that Brody and Raven had once been involved.
    “You’re quite the canvas.”
    He noted the soft upturn of her lips. A pleased, touched smile. He wanted to see it again.
    “Can I undress you?”
    The two of them paused. Each seemingly surprised by the request.
    “Yes.”
    She pulled his shirt off again, leaning in to press an openmouthed kiss against his chest.
    “Your body is beautiful.” She murmured it, nearly to herself.
    He didn’t stop himself from sliding his palms over her shoulders and down her back, drawing her closer as she pulled his pants open and then down, kneeling as she did.
    He stepped from his pants and shorts and then she looked up his body, shocking him into utter stillness as he took in the sight of this woman on her knees before him.
    It was more than kneeling to get at his cock. It was . . . more. So much more.
    “I like the way you look there. On your knees before me.”
    “Do you?”
    He nodded, sliding his fingers through her hair.
    “I do. Very much. So much that I think you should suck my cock. Yes, yes, I think that’s definitely what you should do.”
    She leaned in, brushing her cheek against the line of his cock until he nearly hissed. How such a small thing could feel so amazing he didn’t know, but it did.
    She licked up the line from his sac to the crown, around and around, before sucking him into the heat of her mouth. Hot and wet, she took him deep, so deep he grunted at how amazing it felt.
    Over and over, the rhythm of her down and up, down and up, the heat cooling as she retreated, only to shock him again as she swallowed his cock. Her nails scored up the backs of his thighs, her hands flattening on his ass to pull him closer.
    From his vantage point he could take in the color on her back as her hair moved. It was so good he had an inner quarrel with himself. He told himself he could stop her in just a bit because he wanted more of her mouth. Then he told himself he had great recovery time and if he came in her mouth—and that idea appealed quite a lot—that he could concentrate on making her come and then by the time he was ready again, he could fuck her.
    So he could have both.
    Yes, that was it.
    What he really wanted was to grab that gorgeous hair, wrap it around his fists for purchase so he could fuck her face. Not dignified. But he wanted it with so much greed it clawed at him.
    She pulled back and looked up at him. The sight of those eyes and the expression on her face shocked him to his toes.
    “Is there a problem?” One brow rose.
    He laughed, giving in enough to caress her face and head. “Only the wealth of options you present.”
    “Liar.”
    “I don’t know you well enough yet.”
    “Hm. You know me well enough