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I couldn’t tell what it was, not with this little exposed, but it was a tattoo, sure as day. Two tendrils of black ink peeked out from under his suit, curling towards each other. They were clean lines, about half an inch thick. There was a thicker point in the middle, definitely the end of a sword.

But the two curling lines were still a mystery.

Branches, maybe? Or the end of some sort of script.

Whatever it was I wanted to know more. Now.

“It’s just a tattoo, honey,” Adrian said, low and under his breath. I could hear the tension, his voice wavering with his faltering hold on his control. “Nothing revolutionary.”

“I beg to differ.” I tested the boundaries, pulling the suit a little further up his arm, revealing the bottom of a leaf. Branches it was. “This is absolutely revolutionary. What is it?”

Adrian looked down at me, one brow arching. “An olive branch. And a sword.”

I smiled to myself at guessing it correctly. “Is it new?”

Adrian grumbled something that sounded like assent. “The only reason it’s not covered like—”

He cut himself off sharply, breathing in with wide eyes. Because he’d accidentally revealed too much.

“Like the rest of them?” I prodded, feeling an intense desire to feel around for any soft spots. And this was clearly one of them.

Adrian took a deep breath, like being honest with mewas taking great effort. “Yes,” he said, the word barely more than a whisper.

I returned my attention back to the hem of his suit, fighting the urge to pull him into a dark corner and make him take off his jacket so I could see what he clearly didn’t allow others to.

I ran my finger under the seam and his knee hit the table. It made me hope—from pure curiosity, obviously— he felt the same sparks I did. “What else are you hiding under there?”

Adrian’s throat worked on a rough swallow. That was answer enough.

I tried and categorically failed to hide my grin. “You’re hiding something.”

Adrian’s jaw popped, one hard clench that made his jaw cut an even harsher line against his neck. “And if I am?”

I readjusted the white undershirt, then the suit jacket to hide the tattoo. “Then I would like to figure out what it is. It’s something your girlfriend would know, wouldn’t it?”

I felt Adrian’s head tilt down to look at me.

Don’t look up, I told myself.

I looked up, our noses an inch away from brushing together. This close, I could make out the shifting color in Adrian’s eyes, gathering into gray and violet clouds.

Those clouds were hard to ignore when his gaze locked on mine, as secure as a hand around the base of my neck. “You like me feeling exposed, huh?”

“Maybe I do,” I whispered back, my skin prickling with the weight of curious eyes. We were being rude again, talking during a speech. I knew that. I just couldn’t break free of his hold on my own.

Adrian hummed and I felt the sound more so than heard it.

He turned back towards the stage, retraining his attention on the speaker as they said something about the legacy of the museum that I was too distracted to fully absorb.

Adrian shifted and my hope for understanding even a word of what she was saying went out the window.

Even without speaking, I knew what he was doing, our mutual competitiveness morphing into an ability to silently communicate.

It was his turn to make me feel exposed.

I straightened my back, squeezing my crossed legs together for strength as he took his free hand and brought it to the fingers of the gloves on my left hand. The one on his thigh.

Slowly, tortuously, he started pulling on the tip of each finger, starting with my smallest finger, until he had enough give to slide the glove off my arm. It ended just above my elbow, which meant there were quite a few inches the smooth fabric had to scrape down my arm, dragging goosebumps along with it.