When he’d been naked in front of me I hadn’t properly oogled him. But now? Now I let myself bathe in his sight.
A wall of muscle. That’s the only way to describe it. His chest was broad, solid, smooth except for a light dusting of hair that trailed down his abs like an arrow pointing me toward certain death. His skin gleamed faintly in the moonlight, golden and taut, stretching over a body that looked hand-carved by angels—or maybe demons, depending on how you looked at it.
And then there were the tattoos.
I froze.
My mouth opened. Then closed.
Because—because what even were they?
On one side of his chest: a wolf pawprint. Cool. Sexy. Expected.
On the other? A freaking slice of pizza. With wings.
I blinked. “Is that… pizza?”
Darian’s ears turned bright red. “Uh—yeah. Long story.”
