CRAVING ISABELLA
Dannywritescraving the wrong brotheri keep craving craving youcraving your touchcravings novel
Then he holds up his hands, palms down, resting them on the table's edge.
My gaze drops, and I gasp. Tattoos adorn every visible part of his fingers. Skulls, bone segments, and what looks like gothic script run across his knuckles and the back of his fingers, making them look sharp and almost skeletal. His knuckles are slightly bruised, fingers stiff.
My eyes flick between his hands and his face. “You got tattoos on your fingers?”
He shrugs. "Yeah? Got them done yesterday. They're still a bit tender. Hard to grip a fork properly." He gives me an innocent, utterly false look. "You don't like them?"
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