Maid For Daddies
I set the basket down, crossed to the window to pull the curtains back, then turned toward the bed to strip the sheets.
And froze.
Leon was still there shirtless, lying on his back, one arm flung above his head, the other resting low across his stomach. The sheet had slipped down to his hips, low enough that the deep V of muscle disappeared beneath it.
He had tattoos of thorny vines, intricate crosses and ravens curling over his chest, ribs, down his sides, stopping just above the waistband of whatever he was (or wasn’t) wearing under there. The same viper tattoo Silas and Law had coiled low on his abdomen, tail vanishing beneath the sheet.
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