He laughed again. “Bonding moment with Eric.”

She sucked the ring into her mouth, and his body stiffened. Ooo, fun. She flicked it with her tongue. “Who’s Eric?”

“Our drummer.”

“Anything else I should know about?”

“Hmmmm. The wicked awesome tattoo on my ass?”

She stripped his jeans and boots off and inspected his cute, little butt to find nary a mark on his perfect ass. “I don’t see anything.”

“Look closely.”

She ran her hands over the smooth cheeks, up and down. “Nothing here.”

“That’s right. It wasn’t on my ass, was it? I swear I got a new one somewhere. I doubt you’ll find it.”

She remembered he had a few on each of his upper arms, one on the left side of his chest. Problem was she wasn’t sure if she could pick a new one out of his collection. She coaxed him onto his back and pulled his shirt off, leaving him naked except for his socks, and started with the tattoo on his upper arm. A skull engulfed in flames. “I remember this one.”

“You sure?”

She wasn’t. “Yeah.” The dagger and roses beneath it looked familiar. “This one’s old too.”

The demon horse and the Grim Reaper on his left pec? Old. She did like playing with his new nipple ring though. She flicked it with her tongue until he squirmed. On his other arm he had a tribal pattern in red and black from shoulder to elbow. She definitely remembered that one.

“Where is it?” she asked.

“Lower.”

She kissed his nipple… his ribs… his belly. “Am I getting warm yet?”

“You are getting warmer,” he murmured. “It doesn’t have anything to do with how close you are to finding that tattoo though.”

She sucked on the skin around his belly button. He laughed, squirming sideways across the floor.

“I had no idea you were so ticklish,” she murmured.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

That was true. Was he ready to share? She looked at him. “So tell me something.”

“After you find that tattoo, I’ll answer any question you ask.”

She searched every inch of visible skin and found nothing. Her interest was rapidly shifting to his thick shaft, which was far more fascinating than any tattoo had ever been, but she did want to ask him a question. She searched his scalp.

“Okay, I give up. Where is it?”

“Maybe you should look under my sock.”

Well, of course, that’s where it would be. She peeled off his socks and found it. Her eyes opened wide, and she fell on the floor laughing. An animated daisy with a smiley face in its bright yellow center decorated his skin at the base of his left big toe.

“The moral to this story is never pass out drunk when Eric Sticks is picking out your wicked awesome tattoo.”

“And it’s permanent?”

“Yeah, until I get it removed.” He grinned. “Or maybe I’ll keep it. No one will see it there. Unless I go to the beach.”

She was surprised he seemed so cool with it. Shouldn’t he be upset that a friend had tricked him into getting an embarrassing tattoo while he was too drunk to stop it?

“Didn’t you get mad?”

“Nah. I should have known better. The last time I got that drunk with Eric, he drew flowers all over my back with black magic marker.”

“Yeah, but that washed off.”

“After a week.”

“Great friend you have there.”

Jace lowered his eyes. “Yeah.”

She saw something in him at that moment that she’d never seen before. Vulnerability. Could she get him to open up? She knew if she pushed him too hard, he’d completely shut himself off.

“So what’s the story with the Eric guy?” she asked.

He didn’t speak for a long moment. “He’s the reason I became a bassist.”

“What, is he like an old guy or something?”

Jace shook his head. “Not even five years older than me.”

“And he had that much influence over you?”

“I saw a Sinners show when they were just starting out. I was fourteen and in a bar with a fake ID.”

“How did you pass for twenty-one when you were fourteen? You’re so cute, you scarcely look twenty-one now.”

His scowl told her she’d said the wrong thing. She could practically see his wall of defense rise.

“Are we gonna f**k or what?” he said.

She wasn’t going to let him change the subject that easily. “So you saw Sinners when you were fourteen. Then what? How did that make you a bassist?”

More silence. She waited.

He took a deep breath. “They were amazing even then. Brian and Trey have always been completely in tune with each other—two halves of a whole. Sed’s voice is unbelievable, and Eric is the best drummer on the planet. I just stood there. Stunned. I couldn’t move. All I could do was listen. I could scarcely breathe. The four of them were so incredibly talented. And then there was their weak link. Jon Mallory.”

“Let me guess. Their bassist?”

“The band deserved better. He’s totally average. Not horrible. Just not as good as the rest of them, and I think he was high or something. He wasn’t into the music. He was into himself.”

“So you decided to become their bassist.”

“No. I didn’t know how to play bass. I’ve always loved music and had some talent, but it never occurred to me to make a life of it. At the end of the show, Eric tossed his drumsticks into the crowd, and I caught one. I didn’t even reach for it. It sort of connected with my hand. It was a wake-up call for me. I’d spent the previous four years getting into trouble, but right then, I knew what I wanted to do with the rest of my life—what I had to do. It was fate. I had to become part of Sinners.”

This was the most Jace had ever spoken to her at once. Aggie was careful not to say something that might encourage his silence again. “So how long did it take you to become their bassist?”

“Six years. And if it wasn’t for Trey’s brother, I’d probably be playing with another band now.”

“Trey was the guitarist who was hurt, right?”

“Yeah, his brother, Dare, is the lead guitarist for Exodus End.”

Exodus End? They were huge worldwide. And Sinners were pretty big too and growing. “Wow. It just occurred to me that you’re famous.”