Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(130)

Rolling my eyes, I shrugged her arm off. As I turned toward the front counter, Anna brightly exclaimed, “I should get one too.” Bending over, she pointed to her ass. “Griffin’s name, right here. Then he can kiss it whenever he pisses me off.”

“You would be bending over all the time then.”

Anna gave me a highly inappropriate grin, and I quickly changed the direction of the conversation. That was one mental image of Griffin I did not need to have ingrained in my head. “Maybe you should wait until after Maximus arrives to get a tattoo.”

Anna sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I suppose that would be a good idea.” She laughed. “Guess I should try being responsible every now and again.”

I laughed with her, rubbing her burgeoning belly. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

Her fingers cupping the child in her womb, Anna groaned, “God, I hope he arrives soon. I’m so sick of being pregnant!”

I was about to ask my sister if she was finally going to fly home, or to our parents’, when an attractive man came out of the back. Every square inch of his arms was covered in colorful tattoos that reminded me of Evan’s. He had gauges in his ears too, just like our D-Bag drummer. “Just don’t give birth in my lobby, please.”

Anna smirked at him as he extended a hand to us. He had a tattoo on the meaty part of his thumb that read No Regrets. I couldn’t have agreed more with the sentiment, and I considered getting that tattooed somewhere on me too, but not tonight. I had other plans for tonight.

“Name’s Brody. What can I do ya for?”

After shaking his hand, I pointed to the inside of my right wrist. “I want my husband’s name, right here.”

Brody nodded. “Popular spot. What’s the lucky man’s name?”

My grin burned brighter than the sun. “Kellan.”

When Anna and I left the shop, my wrist covered in a thick bandage, I reconsidered ever getting another tattoo. A needle digging into your flesh over and over wasn’t exactly a wonderful experience. And I was sort of a wuss about pain, anyway. It was far, far down on my list of favorite things. Truly, it was miracle that I’d sat through the entire procedure. The second that machine pierced my skin, I almost shot into the air and vanished out the door. I think I would have, if the tattoo had been anything other than Kellan’s name.

We had another show in Philly tomorrow, so Anna and I took a cab back to the hotel instead of returning to Wells Fargo Center to finish up the concert. Anna was tired, and I just wasn’t in the mood for listening to the thunderous reaction of Kellan and Sienna closing out the evening with the passionate duet that had started this whole mess. So Kellan didn’t worry when he couldn’t find me, I texted him and then lay down in our bed to wait for him, wearing only my underwear and a light T-shirt.

I was more exhausted than I realized and fell asleep not long after setting my head down on the pillow. A body sliding into bed with me stirred me back to life. His skin was cool and a little damp, and he smelled like the citrus body wash that the hotel provided. He must have hopped into the shower before hopping into bed. I shivered as his chest pressed against my back and his arms and legs wrapped around me. “I’m cold,” he murmured. “Warm me up.”

Wanting to help him out, I flipped around and cocooned him with my body. Pulling his head into my neck, I kissed his cheek. He groaned in delight. “You’re so warm . . .”

I smiled as I ran my hands over his chilly back, warming him with friction as well as skin. His lips brushed over my neck, and the temperature of my skin stopped slowly decreasing as desire kicked in. His mouth found its way to the electric spot at the base of my neck near my collarbone, and I suddenly felt red hot. Instead of pressing against his body to warm him up, I started pressing against his body to rev him up. It didn’t take long.

Rolling me to my back, he settled himself on top of me as he worked his lips across my throat and up the other side of my neck. In my ear, he husked, “I love it when you make me hot.”

He pressed his hips into mine for emphasis, and a low moan escaped me. He was ready for me. The hard length of him being teasingly out of reach was enough to fully ignite me. I’d had such an emotional day that a satisfying release was exactly what I needed right now. Kellan too, probably.

Feeling frantic, I found his mouth and started clawing at his boxers. Kellan didn’t question my enthusiasm. He just went with it and started tearing off my clothes. I felt like crying out with every place he touched me—his mouth over my chest, his hand sliding down my hip, his finger sliding over my sensitive core. Back arched and breath needy, I was ready for him to claim me. He was ready too. Breathing heavy, he angled his hips so that just the tip of him entered me. I grabbed the pillow under my head with both hands. Knowing how much he loved it when I begged him, I exhaled, “Yes, God, please . . . yes.”

I was expecting him to plunge deep inside of me. I was expecting to scream out in ecstasy. I was going to clutch his hips and encourage him to take me hard and fast instead of his usual slow and steady. I needed him to work me over, to satisfy the ache escalating with every second.

But he didn’t take me. He shifted to my side. I groaned as the aching shifted to the edge of painful need. I kissed his chest and threw a leg over his hip. I would take him if he wouldn’t take me.

Kellan seemed distracted, though, as he held both of my hands. “Kiera?”