Lauren: You look hot sitting over there.

I glance up to find her staring at her computer screen, smiling while biting her lower lip.

“I’m right here, you know.”

She doesn’t respond and I go back to my e-mail. Within seconds, I have another text. She must be using iMessage on her Mac.

Lauren: I think you should work naked.

“I’m sitting in the same room. There is no need to text me.” My voice sounds stern, but I’m grinning. She is so funny. I love her playful side. She still doesn’t acknowledge my words, just pretends like she’s still working.

Lauren: Don’t be a killjoy. Take off your shirt. We’ll call it research.

I laugh and shake my head, then respond to her text: Heads up.

She looks over at me as I throw a pillow at her, making her laugh out loud uncontrollably.

“You did not just throw that pillow at me.” She laughs.

“I’m right here. Talk to me.”

“Okay.” She wipes tears of laughter from the corner of her eye. “Take off your shirt.”

“I will if you will.”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise and tilts her head in thought. “Hmm, that could be interesting. Okay.” She whips her T-shirt over her head, leaving her in a lacy, white bra. “Your turn.”

I reach over my head and pull my T-shirt off and throw it on the floor before leaning back against the cushion. “Happy?”

“Mmm.” Her blue eyes rake up and down my torso. “Very happy.” Then she turns back to her computer and continues to tap her pink-tipped nails on her keyboard.

“Seriously?” I laugh.

“What?” She doesn’t even look my way, but her lips are set in a smug line.

“I just got half-naked and you’re going back to work?”

“I told you, I needed you to strip for research.”

“Research for what?” I ask curiously.

“My character has tattoos up and down his arm, and I wanted to see yours.”

Well, what in the hell am I supposed to say to that?

“Of course,” she continues with a perfectly straight face, “I have yours memorized. I just wanted you to be half-naked.”

She’s so fucking funny.

I laugh and stand, setting my computer aside, and pull her out of her chair and into my arms, carrying her back to the chaise lounge. I settle her in my lap and nuzzle her neck. “I think we need a break.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” She sighs, relaxes against me, and brushes her fingertip over the ink on my arm. “These are sexy.”

“I had no idea you were into tattoos.”

“I didn’t either.” She laughs. “I like them on you.”

I love the way she touches me.

“What is this one for?” She traces the yin and yang on my biceps.

“It’s Zack and Josh.”

She purses her lips. “That’s appropriate.”

“I think so.” I smile. Zack and Josh King are identical twins and have been my best friends since early childhood.

“And this one?” She traces the crown across my shoulder.

“It’s for Jilly.” I kiss Lo’s forehead and breathe her in. She smells like peaches and cream.

“Why a crown?”

“I’ve always called her princess.” I shrug and smile down at Lo. “She’s always acted like one. She’s the baby, and we all spoiled her.”

I frown and Lo sees it immediately. “What?”

“I am pretty protective when it comes to the women in my life.”

Lauren chuckles and continues to softly slide her fingertip over my skin. “You don’t say,” she murmurs dryly.

“She had a bad marriage,” I murmur softly, my gut tightening in anger when I think of the asshole who hurt my baby sister. “She doesn’t talk about it, and she won’t tell me what happened, but she got hurt.”

“And that pisses you off,” Lauren whispers.

“Hell yes, it pisses me off. I was just thinking that we all spoiled her, and the one person who was supposed to take care of her was a douche bag.”

Lo cups my cheek in her hand and I instinctively turn my face into her touch and kiss her palm.

“She’s home,” she croons, and kisses my shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m happy she’s home.”

Lauren goes back to concentrating on my ink. I have a feeling our whole break is going to be consumed with talking about each tat.

When what I wanted to do was make love to her here on this chaise.

“This?” Lo asks with a chuckle.

“It’s a skull, Lo. It’s because I’m badass, naturally.”

“Naturally.” She laughs loudly.

I nod and hug her close.

“I’m assuming this one is for your mom,” she says dryly, pointing to the heart with MOM written though the middle of it.

“Safe assumption.”

“Okay”—she trails her finger down my forearm, sending chills through me—“what’s with the bluebird?”

“It’s Cara.”

Lo’s head snaps up and she narrows her eyes on my face. “Why?” Her cheeks have reddened and she looks . . . pissed.

“Because she’s important to me. She’s been in my life a long time, and she was there for me when some bad shit went down.”

“How was she there for you?” Lo asks quietly.