KASMINE.
The image of Kester's back had burned itself into my mind, haunting me through the night, refusing to let me rest. Even now, as I walked toward my office with a spring in my step, I couldn't stop the smile that kept tugging at my lips.
Kester was determined, tearing down my defenses with a patience that was both infuriating and intoxicating. And damn it, he was winning.
I swear he was getting more points than I'd like to give him.
I had crumbled the moment my gaze landed on the massive tattoo spanning his back—ink etched into his skin simply because I liked tattoos.
My chest had ached, my throat had tightened, and tears had spilled as I traced the beautiful patterns with my hands.
But even after pushing him to tell me how he knew I liked them, he vehemently refused to.
And
