Skin Deep Read online

  She’d met them both that long-past night in Europe. It had amazed her that she could be faced with mirror-image faces, matching lean and lanky bodies, and only feel a gut punch of attraction to one.

  Sipping her beer, she let her mind wander back to that night, something she rarely allowed herself. She’d been in Amsterdam on a sponsored, six-month tattoo internship. Sponsored was a loose term, too—she’d had an online flirtation with the sponsoring artist. He’d invited her to visit, to learn under him in more ways than one. He’d been far more interesting online than in person, however, so she’d broken off the romantic part of their arrangement after a month. She’d stayed on with the artistic side, learning from someone who might have been a crappy lover but was indeed a talented artist.

  She’d been poor as hell, living in a hostel down the street from the shop some nights, sleeping on her tattoo chair others. Poor didn’t mean miserable, though—she’d loved Amsterdam, the freedom of it, the fact that no one looked at her strangely for being a white girl with dreaded hair, or for having more skin that was inked than not. Nobody cared if she went home with boys or with girls or with both. She’d had the time of her life, exploring who she really was.

  This was why she’d been so surprised to find herself in one of her favorite bars, part of a group of people that included, for that evening at least, two American travelers...one of whom caught her eye the way none of the free-spirited locals or Zen backpackers already had. She remembered sidling over to the pair, who were attracting no end of attention with their six-foot-four-inch heights and dark red hair, but there had really only been one for her.

  There had only been Fred.

  Footsteps sounded, pulling her back from her reminiscing. She took another large gulp of beer before sitting up straight on the bench, anticipation coursing through her veins.

  A large herd of men in suits tended to strut by her shop about an hour after the plaza closed for the evening. Her space was near the entrance/exit that was closest to the executive parking lot, and she imagined that they were returning to their leased Mustangs, ready to jet off for dinner with pedigreed fiancées or clandestine town house meetings with mistresses. None of her business, and she’d never before cared.

  Not until this afternoon, when it had occurred to her that Fred might be one of these suits. Though if he’d walked past her before, she wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed him.

  She cocked her head to listen, her heart in her throat. One set of footprints approached—just one. She held her breath as Fred Vaughan came into view—he was unaccompanied.

  Somehow, she’d known he would come. And she’d known he would be alone.

  “Open alcohol on plaza premises is a seventy-five-dollar fine.” He stopped in front of her, hands in the pockets of his suit pants. At five foot ten, she was a tall woman, but being seated while she looked up at his impressive height made her feel like a dainty fucking flower.

  “You going to report me?” Lifting her beer to her lips, she took a large, deliberate swallow. He watched her, and she looked at him, letting her stare rake over him the way she hadn’t earlier.

  In her memory, he wore worn jeans and a T-shirt an outfit that had let him blend in well enough with everyone else. Now, he was wearing a suit that fit him so well she was certain it was custom-made. And she couldn’t deny that he wore the hell out of it.

  Her mouth went dry, so she took another sip of her drink. She was surprised—shocked, even—when he reached out and tugged the beer bottle out of her hand.

  “Cockblocking my good time.” She shook her head in mock exasperation. “Figures.”

  Rather than pitching it in the nearby trash can, as she expected him to, he merely arched an eyebrow and took a drink himself. She found herself transfixed to see his lips press against the glass where hers had just been. The way the muscles of his throat moved as he swallowed made her mouth water.

  Shit. She was in so, so much trouble.

  “If I remember correctly, I didn’t block your good time.” He handed the bottle back to her, and her skin sizzled when his long fingers brushed against hers. “I made it even better.”

  Shit.

  “You weren’t here earlier because you want a tattoo,” she blurted out, caught off guard by the punch of unadulterated lust. “I call bullshit.”

  “You got me.” The hand that had been holding her beer reached up, loosening the knot of his tie. He followed up the movement by unbuttoning the top two buttons of his dress shirt, and Amy fought back a whimper.

  What the hell was it about him? She’d been with men. She’d been with women. She’d had some good sex and some great sex.

  So what was it about this particular man? She wanted him now like she’d wanted him five years ago. And she’d never been particularly good at denying herself the things that she wanted.

  “Why were you here, then?” She stood up, trying to gain more control over the situation. Since he still had six inches on her, all it did was bring her right into his kinesphere.

  It still made her shiver.

  “Five years ago, you kept your name a secret from me.” He spoke in slow, measured words, stare on her face. “No matter how much I begged. I think it’s my turn to keep a secret.”

  “The difference being that I won’t beg.” Amy heard the breathlessness in her own words, felt promise shiver up her spine as his light green eyes darkened to the color of sea glass. He reached out with one of those massive palms of his, traced a finger along the curve of her jaw.

  “I think your memory is failing you.” His finger moved over her chin, up to press against her lips. Her tongue darted out, swiping over it, tasting the salt of his skin. It made need tighten in her core. “I’ve made you beg before. And I promise you, I can make it happen again.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  AMY SET HER beer down on the bench, then took his hand and led him inside Four Sisters. He sniffed for the spa-like scent he’d detected earlier. The diffuser-type thing still puffed away in the corner, but she’d changed the scent to something smokier. Something that made him think of sex.

  Who was he kidding? Just being in the same room as her made him think of sex.

  His back was to the door. When she turned back to slide the dead bolt on the door home, her chest brushed against him. He thought of those damn barbells in her nipples and was hard in an instant, a fact he couldn’t have hidden and didn’t want to, the way his pelvis was flush against the flat planes of her stomach.

  “Well, well.” Her voice was soft and rough, reminding him of the mountains he’d trekked on the same trip where he’d met her. “Looks like I might not be the one doing the begging after all.”

  “To hell with that.” Bending his knees, he cupped the curves of her delectable ass in his hands. She cried out when he lifted her right off her feet. Her legs twined around his waist as he carried her forward through her shop. She groaned, rocking her lithe body against his, and he swore under his breath when he felt her molten core make contact with his rock-solid length.

  He carried her past the bamboo room divider, then deposited her in her tattoo chair. It was black leather with a headrest and was already reclined—it couldn’t have been more perfect. She landed on her knees, reaching up for him, tugging on the knot of his tie until it came loose. He let it fall to the floor as she reached for the zipper of his suit pants. His eyes crossed when her nimble fingers brushed against the head of his cock.

  “Liked that, did you?” Her voice was a self-satisfied hum as she reached into his trousers and wrapped around his erection. “Jesus.”

  “You can call me that any time you want.” He huffed out a breath as she explored his length, working gently up and down.

  “I’d say you have a big head.” She circled a thumb over his tip, caught the droplet of moisture beading there. “But is it a big head if it’s justified?”

  “
Fuck.” He halted his movements for a moment to let her play. Arousal built at the base of his spine as she danced those elegant fingers over his shaft. Finally he could take it no more and moved back, out of her reach.

  “You’re playing with fire,” he warned her as he undid the buttons of his work shirt. He felt her avid gaze as he worked it over his wide shoulders, then let it fall to the floor. With her eyes on him, he lowered his pants, his underwear until they were around his hips, then wrapped his own hand around the base of his cock. “Undress for me. Now.”

  “Bossy as ever, aren’t you?” Her words were a challenge, but her movements weren’t. Still on her knees, she fisted her hands in the hem of her tank top, then lifted it up and over her head, tossing it across the room. He groaned as her breasts filled his vision, those magnificent, adorned breasts that had haunted both his dreams and his nightmares.

  “I want to come on those fantastic tits,” he promised her, running his hand up and then down his erection. Her avid gaze followed the movements as she cupped her own breasts in her hands, squeezing them together.

  “Do it.” Her voice was breathless and she climbed from the chair, setting her feet on the floor. In one quick movement, she’d worked her torn jeans down over her hips, all the way down the floor. She stepped out, then stood before him, blissfully naked, her decorated skin open to his gaze.

  The piercings through her nipples were something he remembered, but there was a hoop in her navel that was new. He watched her run her hands over her torso, tugged on the barbells, and knew that he wasn’t going to last long. Not when the object of every fantasy he’d had for the past five years was here in front of him, tantalizing him in the flesh.

  Without speaking, he closed the space between them. Rather than pushing her down into the chair, he sat down himself. Reaching for her slim waist, he tugged her toward him, arranging her knees on either side of his.

  “Next time,” he promised as he lay back, tugging her astride him until she balanced on her knees, which rested on either side of his hips. “Right now I need you to ride me. Ride my cock until you scream.”

  She gasped, fire sparking in her blue eyes. Sliding up his body, she took him in her hand, then pressed the head of his arousal against her wet slit. She was wet and hot and he couldn’t help himself—he arched his hips upward, his swollen head working its way inside her far enough to make her gasp at the intrusion.

  “Fuck.” Her voice was a moan. Her head lolled back as she clenched around him. She was tight, even tighter than he remembered, so he dug his fingers into the flesh of her hips and willed himself to be patient.

  She shocked the hell out of him when she pressed herself downward. She took three-quarters of his length in with one movement, sending stars spinning in his vision. She bore down, beads of sweat breaking out along her forehead, but seemed stuck until he slid a hand between them, rubbing his large thumb over the center of her pleasure.

  She cried out, melting around him, and he seated himself inside her. They froze for a moment, his green eyes looking into her blue, as though neither could believe that this was finally happening, after so many years and so many dirty, filthy dreams.

  She seemed at a loss for words, and he understood that this wasn’t usual for her. He loved that, loved being the one to make this incredibly strong, mouthy woman lose control.

  Circling his thumb over her clit, he watched her eyes blur, then took over all control.

  “Move.” He surged upward into her and savored the vibration of her gasp. “Move on me.”

  He expected her to argue, to open that sassy mouth. A delicious thrill skirted down his spine when she did nothing of the sort, instead doing what he’d ordered and feeding into his arousal.

  He worked her clit with his thumb until he felt her tighten around him, her knees digging into his sides, her heat holding him tight. He moved faster, harder, and when she clenched around him and cried out, satisfaction that he’d brought her pleasure brought his own arousal soaring sky-high.

  Before she could regain her senses, he slid his hands up to her waist and over her rib cage to cup her breasts. Fuck, but he’d dreamed of these fantastic tits of hers. Never in his life had he considered himself even the least bit wild—the Vaughan family didn’t do wild—but something about those heavy mounds of flesh, with the silver barbells piercing her taut nipples—it turned him on like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

  He couldn’t help himself. Catching the adornments in his fingers, he tugged on them and watched her eyes cross as the pleasure-pain swept over her. She shuddered, and he rolled her nipples in his fingers. Without warning, she cried out again, the cleft between her legs contracting and squeezing his cock so tightly that he couldn’t hold out anymore.

  His orgasm started at the base of his spine, spreading outward until his entire body was caught in the throes of pleasure. He rode the waves with his stare fastened on hers, the two of them shuddering as they came together, each of them ratcheting the other higher with just the memories and fantasies that hovered in the thick, sex-smelling air between them.

  Earlier that afternoon, he’d left Four Sisters Ink knowing that he was in trouble.

  Now, as he urged the woman of his dreams to ride the last waves of her own pleasure on his cock, milking his own orgasm from his flesh...

  He was pretty sure that his life was about to change forever.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SHE REMEMBERED NOW.

  She remembered why she’d run away from Fred that night so many years ago. She’d gone into the encounter thinking of sex as something fun, a physical release. Sex with Fred, however, had cracked open her rib cage and given him access to her trembling heart. If he’d taken that heart and squeezed it in a fist, she might have been able to tuck her emotions away again, but instead he’d cupped it tenderly, as though it was meant to be treasured.

  It had scared the hell out of her and had sent her running away before he could do so much as cajole her name out of her, let alone a phone number. She hadn’t thought she’d ever see him again, yet here he was.

  Cracking her wide-open yet again. Nope, nope, nope.

  “That was fun.” She slid down off him, not an easy task given the sheer size of him. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching as she gathered her tank top and jeans and started to dress herself, movements brisk. “I’ve got work to do now, though.”

  She wasn’t looking directly at him—that was rather like looking straight at the sun—but she watched his brow furrow in her peripheral vision. He moved slowly, languidly, as though he was feeling as sleepy and sated as she was.

  Turning her head slightly, she watched as he hiked his pants back up to his waist, securing them with a fancy-looking leather belt. His stomach was flat, striped with more abs than a man who wore a suit for a living should have. His chest was also hard, dusted with reddish-gold hair, and the sheer size of everything about him made her mouth water all over again. It also had anxiety coiling in her stomach.

  It might have been five years since that first encounter, but she didn’t feel any more ready for these feelings than she had back then. So even though she knew it wasn’t great manners to kick him out right after sex—a reverse wham, bam, thank you ma’am—she needed some space, and she needed it now.

  She opened her mouth to tell him he needed to go, but before she could get out a word, he closed the space between them. With two fingers underneath her chin, he claimed her mouth once again in a kiss, hot and wet and nearly as dirty as sex. Her brain short-circuited, so that when he stepped back, she could only blink up at him with dazed eyes.

  “I’ll see you soon.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. He cast her that devastating grin that had once brought her to her knees, then turned on his heel and left her shop. The bells hanging in the doorway tinkled merrily as his head brushed the top of them—good Lord, he was tall.

  A
nd then he was gone. Her breath exhaled on a whoosh, and her knees suddenly felt like they could no longer support her. She sank down into her tattoo chair, rising again when something crinkled under her weight.

  It was a sealed white envelope, the kind with the little plastic window in the front. Beneath that plastic was her name and the name of her shop, in official type.

  She knew the envelope hadn’t been there before Fred, so he must have left it, which seemed odd. Still, it had her name on it, so she shrugged and slit the paper open.

  It was a letter printed on official Vaughan Enterprises letterhead, and signed, Fred Vaughan—In-House Counsel. She scanned the contents once, then returned to the beginning and read it again more slowly as her teeth started to grind together in irritation. By the time she pulled out her phone to FaceTime her sister Meg, she was ready to breathe fire.

  “Uh-oh.” Meg’s face morphed from a happy smile to instant concern when she saw Amy’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “What would you do if you slept with someone and then found a letter from him kicking you out of your business location?”

  “Shut up.” Meg’s gasp was all Amy needed to hear. “Is he still breathing?”

  “I didn’t find it until after he left.” Amy frowned. “I don’t think he meant to leave it.”

  “Hold up.” Meg put her phone down for a moment, and Amy heard the low rumble of her sister’s boyfriend John’s voice. When Meg reappeared, her cheeks were flushed. “Okay, what am I missing?”

  “It seems that the mall I leased my space from is owned by the family of a guy I had a one-night stand when I was in Europe.” Pushing off from the chair, Amy started to pace. “I had no idea until he came in today. When I recognized him, he said he wanted a tattoo, but I’m guessing he was here to give me this letter.”