Under the Skin (30 page)

Patrick hooked his fingers into Mikhail’s belt loops. “So do I get to see the rest of them?”

Shaking his head, Mikhail stepped forward as Patrick took a step back, tugging him by the waist of his jeans to lead them backward toward the house. He might never understand why Patrick seemed to find his tattoos arousing, but that was another thing Mikhail had learned not to question. That part of his life was buried along with the persona who had earned them, and Mikhail had found it easier than he had any right to hope to leave that life behind. And that, he knew to the depths of his soul, was due wholly to the man before him. Lifting his hands to Patrick’s shoulders, he guided them toward the porch. “When we are inside, Patya. Neighbors don’t need to see everything.”

Patrick smiled. They might not live in fear of people seeing now the way they had in Chicago when their life together was reduced to a string of stolen moments, but that didn’t mean he was ready to share everything with his neighbors either. He had to have some dignity intact when he went to work in the morning. He backed up the steps, Mikhail one step behind him the whole way. “What are we waiting for?”

“Nothing,” Mikhail assured him, pulling him into his arms as the door closed behind them. “I top last time. Is your turn tonight.”

“No way,” Patrick said, shedding his shirt and backing toward the bedroom. “You’re not playing that trick on me. I know I topped last time.”

Mikhail chuckled softly. “Perhaps you did, perhaps not, but tonight I need you, Patya.”

Patrick didn’t ask why. Why didn’t matter. Mikhail might joke and tease and bottom almost as often as he topped these days, but he rarely asked outright. When he did, Patrick never said no. “All right, but next time, it’s your turn.”

“
Da
, Patya.
Ya tebya lyublyu
.”

About the Authors

Growing up in Chicago,
N
ICKI
B
ENNETT
spent every Saturday at the central library, losing herself in the world of books. A voracious reader, she eventually found it difficult to find enough of the kind of stories she liked to read and decided to start writing them herself.

A
RIEL
T
ACHNA
lives outside of Houston with her husband, her daughter and son, and their cat. Before moving there, she traveled all over the world, having fallen in love with both France, where she found her husband, and India, where she dreams of retiring some day. She’s bilingual with snippets of four other languages to her credit and is as in love with languages as she is with writing.

Visit Ariel’s web site at

http://www.arieltachna.com

and her blog at

http://arieltachna.livejournal.com/

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B
ENNETT
&
T
ACHNA

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ICKI
B
ENNETT

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RIEL
T
ACHNA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com