Craving The Wrong Brother
I’m starting to think I need medical intervention.
“The tattoo’s almost done,” Knox says, giving me that knowing smile that means he can read every dirty thought crossing my face. “Want to see it?”
I get up slowly, my legs still a little unsteady, and walk over to where he’s lying. When I’m close enough to see his back clearly, I stop short.
Spread across the entire width of his back, rendered in bold black ink, is a large bunny. Complete with long ears and everything.
This isn’t what I expected at all.