Skin Deep

by Lauren Hawkeye

  “All they had protecting this place,” he corrected, as she geared herself up to argue with him.

  “I’m not going to...” Her voice trailed off as she processed what he’d said. Turning slowly on bare feet, she found him standing a few feet behind her, hip propped up on the dusty sawhorse she was using as a table. He was watching her calmly, hungrily, and unless she was very much mistaken, he wasn’t in the mood to argue with her. “What did you say?”

  “I think you heard me.” A sexy grin curved his lips, and Amy felt something tighten in her chest, a fist clutching her heart. “It seems that I’m no longer part of Vaughan Enterprises. Which I suppose means that we’re both trespassing, but I think Phyllis will give us a pass if she happens by.”

  Amy was pretty sure that security guard Phyllis read Harlequin romance novels on her phone when things were quiet, so she was pretty sure that Fred was right. With no possibility of interruption, though, it meant that there was no more wasting time—it was time to have the hard conversation.

  She ran a dry tongue over cracked lips, then tried to swallow. She opened her mouth to speak, but Fred beat her to it.

  “I’m sorry I insisted on dinner with my family. I should have known better.”

  “How could you have known?” Setting down her paintbrush, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Have you brought home other tattoo artists that you met in Amsterdam that your parents hated?”

  “No.” The corner of his mouth quirked up with amusement. “I met the best of the lot right out the gate. Didn’t need to go looking anymore.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t say things like that.” Her voice was faint. She cleared her throat, tried to speak more firmly. “It will only make things harder.”

  “What things, exactly?” He moved in closer, and she could feel the heat emanating from his skin. She wanted to touch.

  “You know.” She swallowed again, wishing desperately for a glass of ice water. Warm water. Anything to wet her throat with. “Things between...us.”

  “Amy.” Reaching out with one hand, he cupped her cheek. She couldn’t help herself; she pressed into the warmth of his touch.

  “You didn’t follow me.” Her breath hitched; her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “When I left. You stayed. That says something.”

  “I stayed because I had some things to say.” He dipped his head, brushed his lips over her forehead. “Things that have been fermenting for years. Things that could no longer wait to be said.”

  “I think my feelings about your family are pretty obvious at this point.” Restless, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “But...well, they’re still your family. I’m not sorry for what I said to them. They were awful. But I... I don’t... I mean. I understand that you’re trapped in between a rock and a hard place.”

  “I see things differently now that I’m with you.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, absentmindedly. “And you know what? I’m not trapped at all.”

  “What...what are you saying?” Her pulse stuttered.

  “I’m saying that...if you hadn’t come back into my life, I might have been content enough to stay on with the family business. To float along, meeting the status quo and living a shell of a life.” He sucked in a deep breath. “But you showed me that it’s okay to want something different. To be who you really are. To love who you love.”

  “What did you say?” Her knees trembled. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her heart on her sleeve. “Don’t say it unless you mean it.”

  “Amy.” Curling his free arm around her waist, Fred pulled her in closer to him. Her breath was unsteady as she looked up into his eyes. “I love you. I love everything about you. Don’t you know that by now?”

  She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, let the anxiety wash away. She’d known this somehow, on some level, but even knowing that, she hadn’t been certain that love would be enough for him to defy his family.

  Was he defying his family? Squeezing one eye open, she looked up at him with suspicion.

  “How does this work with your job? Your...legacy?” She gestured wide with her arms, indicating the empty space. “I don’t think your dad is going to be pleased for you to keep seeing me.”

  “I don’t care.” Fred’s smile was so quick, lighter than she’d ever seen it. “As of right now, I’m no longer an employee of Vaughan Enterprises. And you know what? I’ve never felt so free.”

  “What?” A siren rang in her ears. “Fred, Boston is expensive. What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll be fine, I promise.” He laughed lightly. “I went to law school at Harvard, and even if I’ve been disowned, the Vaughan name carries weight. I’ll have plenty of opportunities...if I want them.”

  “What else would you do?”

  “I don’t know.” He turned to study the unfinished mural on the wall. It was a shame that it would inevitably be painted over once tenants were found. It was some of her best work. “Maybe I’ll become a tattoo artist.”

  She had a quick, bright mental picture of Fred, tattooed up as he bent over someone lying in his tattoo chair, and snorted. He raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling.

  “What? You don’t think I could do it?”

  “I think perhaps you should leave it to the professionals.” Biting her lower lip, she reached around him for a brush. Swirling it through the yellow, she turned back to the wall, considering where to place the bristles. “It’s an art form, you know?”

  “I’m aware.” Plucking the paintbrush back out of her hand, he set it back down on her palette at the same time he turned her around. Catching her chin in his hand, he held her still while looking her over. “You have paint on your dress.”

  “I make a mess when I paint mad.” She smoothed a hand over the purple satin skirt and grimaced. “I’ll have to buy Meg a new one.”

  “Hmm, I think it’s salvageable.” The hand at her chin moved down, stroking over the delicate curve of her throat. “But you should probably take it off right now. So you don’t get anything else on it, you know.”

  “I see.” She eyed him, momentarily uncertain. “Is this a good idea? Not to overthink sex, but right now...might it not complicate things that you need to think on?”

  She gasped when one of his hands slid right into the side of her dress, cupping her breast, which pebbled against his palm. Fire in her belly ignited, she inhaled deeply, waiting to see what he would do next.

  “The only thing I need to think about,” he replied, delivering a sharp pinch to her nipple that made her gasp, “is how many spanks you’re about to receive for questioning my desire to be with you. Understood?”

  “Understood,” she gasped, pressing into his touch. He plucked at the silver barbell, and her need became a sharp ache, traveling quickly from her breast to the space between her legs.

  She’d loved it when Fred had taken control the night before but had imagined that it was a one-off, a kinky game he’d indulged in to appease her. Hearing the rough edge in his voice right now, and having a better understanding of the dynamics to which he’d been born, told her that this dominant streak of his likely ran deeper than she’d anticipated.

  She fucking loved it. Even more, after the way the evening had gone, she was more than happy to hand over the reins to someone who wanted to take control—her control.

  “Do you still want me to take my dress off?” A taunting note in her voice, she did a slow spin. She’d removed her sweater and shoes when she’d broken into this space, so her naked back was revealed. She paused facing away, to give him a good look.

  “No.” Closing the space between them, he quickly undid the hook and eye closure that held the neck in place. Amy gasped at the kiss of cool air on her naked skin when the top of the dress fell down around her waist. She moaned when she felt him reach around her from behind to cup her breasts, working the tips insistently until she was a
panting mess, pushing back against him.

  She groaned when he released the soft flesh. Trying to steady her breath, she felt him fist his hands in the hem of her skirt, slowly pulling it up to her waist. He tucked it into the waistband of the fallen bodice.

  “You create beautiful art.” His voice was rough, harsh in the quiet air of the dusky room. “But I don’t think I’ll ever see anything more beautiful than this.”

  She was wearing full-bottomed panties, but they were sheer and black. Without warning, he slapped his palm over the crease that divided them once, then twice. Heat pooled between her legs, and she felt herself pushing back toward him, desperate for more.

  Rather than delivering another blow, he gathered the waistband of the panties in his long fingers and ripped. Amy gasped again when she heard them tear, felt his questing fingers explore the opening he’d just made.

  “I want to take my time with you, but I don’t think I can.” Reaching between her legs, he swiped his fingers through her wet heat, then traced them back, along the crease that divided the cheeks of her behind. “I’m feeling a bit primal tonight. I need you, Amy. I need to claim you. If you’re not okay with this, please say so now. I’m afraid I’m going to lose control.”

  His clever fingers found the pucker of her rear entrance. Her body bucked, and she cried out her response.

  “Take me.” She barely recognized her own voice. “However you want to, but take me now.”

  He snarled—that was the only word for it. With a palm flat on her back, he bent her over the sawhorse, then ground his pelvis against her naked behind.

  “Hold on to this.” He delivered one more quick blow as she did as she was told, fingers digging into the rough wood on either side of her body. When she closed her eyes, she could hear the metallic rasp of his zipper being undone, the soft sound of fabric dragging on flesh, the metallic crinkle of a condom wrapper. She inhaled, and he pressed the head of his cock to her soaking-wet entrance; she didn’t have enough coherent thought left to be embarrassed by her shameless state.

  With a grunt and a single hard thrust of his hips, he was inside her, all the way inside her; the way she was bent over the sawhorse left her open, inviting him deeper inside than he’d been before. She gasped for air as he pulled back, fingers digging into the wood. When he worked his way back in, he pressed a finger to the hidden rosette of her rear, shocking her body into sensations she’d never experienced before.

  Working his finger past the tight ring of muscle, he filled her in two places, and she couldn’t hold back the scream. One thrust, two, and then she came, his bossy fingers ordering that she take her pleasure. She did, clenching around him like a vise. Behind her, she felt him shudder, his muscles tighten. His movements shortened, because a short series of sloppy thrusts as he pursued his own pleasure, and then he came, his shout mingling with her hoarse cries as she continued to come, around his finger and around his cock.

  The force of his release made Amy shake, pushing her up and through one more of her own. Her body resisted it for a moment, overly sensitive at this point and not sure it could handle more, but Fred had told her he was going to claim her. Her body knew that this wasn’t her decision, so when he thrust into her roughly again, and again, and again, she fell, spiraling through the glittering dark in a way that should have been terrifying. Should have been, but wasn’t...because Fred was there to catch her.

  EPILOGUE

  “NICE DIGS.”

  Fred looked up from the cardboard box he was unpacking to find his twin in the doorway. While Fred was dressed down in his new daily uniform of khakis and a crisp button-down shirt, Frank was, as always, wearing a perfectly fitted custom suit. He looked, Fred thought, much as he himself had, only a month before.

  “Thanks for signing off on the lease.” Pushing the box away with one foot, Fred lowered himself to his new office chair, which still had a layer of plastic on it that squeaked beneath his weight. He gestured to the equally new chair that sat on the other side of his box-store desk.

  “There wasn’t much to think about.” His twin shrugged as he lowered himself into the chair that Fred had indicated. “The space was sitting empty, and a law office is a good fit.”

  “It’s not a law office.” Fred scowled at his brother. “Jesus, Frank, didn’t you read the paperwork? If this doesn’t pan out because you—”

  “Chill.” Frank rolled his eyes, then placed the long, slender box he’d been carrying onto the desk—fifty-year-old Glenfiddich. Nice. “Have a drink before you have an aneurysm. Yes, I read it, but ‘legal counsel for the Boston Underprivileged Housing Authority’ is a bit of a mouthful to say every time.”

  “As long as it’s legit.” Fred eyed his brother again, then reached into the box he’d been unpacking. From it he withdrew two mugs, both with Amy’s artwork on them, a new item she was offering in her shop. Frank nodded at his approvingly before reaching for the scotch.

  “It’s legit.” Fred watched as his twin opened the box. Removing the heavy bottle, he uncorked it, then poured a generous measure into each mug. “You did have the upper hand, though. No one else wants to lease a space with a giant mural on the wall.”

  “That mural is fine art, I’ll have you know.” Picking up his mug, Fred inhaled the peaty aroma, then took a careful sip. “Did you buy this or steal it from Dad again?”

  “I didn’t steal it,” Frank replied, indignant. “I told him I was heading over here, and he took it out of his desk and handed it to me. Told me to bring it.”

  “Interesting.” Fred paused with the mug at his lips again, considering. He and his family had reached a détente of sorts when he’d applied to lease this space, but he and Amy still wouldn’t be heading over there for dinner any time soon. He wanted an apology for the things they’d said about her—to her—and thus far they hadn’t offered one. The scotch was a small step forward, but there were a lot more steps to take.

  Fred held on to the hope that they would be taken, at some point. And if they didn’t, that was okay, too, as long as he had Amy.

  “I have to get back to the office.” Frank nodded to his brother as he stood. “Anything you want me to tell Dad?”

  “Tell him thanks for the scotch.” Fred pondered saying more, but he just wasn’t ready. Lifting his mug, he saluted his brother. “Thanks for being the go-between.”

  “I don’t work for free, you know.” Frank drained the last sip of his drink, then held the mug up to the light for inspection. “Can I have this mug? It’s cool.”

  “Sure you can. For twenty bucks.” Frank rolled his eyes, and Fred gestured widely with his palms. “Hey, I just work here.”

  “Uh-huh.” His twin made a big show out of pulling a money clip from his pocket and extracting a twenty. With exaggerated gestures, he moved to lay it on the desk, then snatched it back. “I suppose I should go downstairs and leave this with Amy, then?”

  Fred grinned as he tried to come up with a snarky comeback, which he knew his twin would then inevitably try to top. Happiness was a warm glow in his chest, spreading outward as he leaned back in his chair and looked at the gigantic orange rose that stretched the length of the wall in his new office space.

  Life wasn’t perfect, but he no longer thought it was supposed to be. And with his twin still in his life, a new job that ignited fire in his gut and, most of all, the woman he loved at his side during the day and in his bed at night?

  He might not be part of his family legacy anymore. But you know what? He was doing just fine anyway.

  * * *

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