More muscle studies.
Diana didn’t feel she would be able to drag Stuart anywhere, as he was a lot larger than she was and had a good deal of muscle everywhere. Diana sat down in the grass and examined his marks, which had stopped bleeding. She pushed her fingers along the outer edges of the largest and bloodiest one, and the gleaming mark, which had been an angry red, settled into a muddy brown under her touch.
Stuart sighed deeply and made a comfortable sort of murmur, squirming on the grass.
“Are you awake?” Diana asked, moving her bloodied fingers to another mark and watching it change to a friendly brown.
“Mm, yeah,” Start mumbled. He didn’t sound like a person who would be prepared to go anywhere or stand up, and Diana settled into the grass and started to lay her whole forearm against his marks, which began to turn green. “Ooh, that’s better. Thank you,” Stuart said.
“Why did you do this to yourself? Hang on, don’t answer that. You keep dragging me off track. Why were you lifting weights? Tell me about that first,” Diana said, watching Stuart’s skin fluctuate between a flush of embarrassment and a shiver, whether of unease or liking she couldn’t tell.
“But I don’t want to talk about that. Damn!” Stuart exclaimed, for his tattoo flooded bright red and started to bleed again.
“Dude, come on. This is so destructive. Just tell me, sweetie,” Diana said.
“I don’t want to!” Stuart said, his voice climbing to a pitch of exquisite pain as his many tattoo marks split and formed a manner of waterfall of blood.
“Stu, come on,” Diana said.
“I don’t—oh,” Stuart said, his whole body shaking and his words cutting off. Diana sighed and moved over to sit on top of Stuart, who fell quiet at once and started to breathe deeply.
“I make you feel safe,” Diana said.
“Will you help me with something?” Stuart asked, his voice strained with the sound of a person holding back a few smart remarks.
“Why were you lifting weights?” Diana asked. She couldn’t see Stuart’s face, but his throat emitted a low, strangled growl, and she suspected he was trying really hard not to be rude.
“I—” Stuart said, and then he stopped and struggled with himself for a while. The marks had stopped bleeding as soon as Diana sat on Stuart. He was on his side in the grass, and she was sitting astride his ribs. His blood was in her jeans, but Diana was five minutes away from her closet and wanted very much to change clothes anyway.
“Why?” Diana asked.
“It gives me a—a sense of control, being able to shape my body,” Stuart said, his voice shaking.
“Good,” Diana said, getting off of Stuart and grabbing his hand. “Stand up. You maybe get a kiss for that, if you keep behaving in the next couple of minutes,” she said.
Stuart sprang to his feet, crowded into her space, and started to kiss her so deeply that Diana got dazed and forgot that she was in charge.
You’re reading Victor Poole, and in my current novel, the hunter is talking about how he met Parker.