Stuck-Up Suit

by Vi Keeland

  I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “I’ll keep that in mind, Meme.”

  The realization hit that Soraya was definitely not the first woman in my life to tell it like it is.

  CHAPTER 9

  SORAYA

  AVOIDING GRAHAM OVER THE PAST COUPLE OF DAYS had been really difficult, but I felt like I needed to step back for my own good. The truth was, I couldn’t trust myself. Any little bit of contact might have pushed me over the edge. It was bad enough I thought about him all day and pleasured myself to images of him at night. For all I knew, the second I gave in, he would be gone. And I didn’t want this to end. I loved the excitement of wondering what he’d say or do, wondering what would happen next. I couldn’t risk giving in too soon and losing this feeling…or losing him. I hated that a part of me still felt like he might disappear once we slept together.

  Nevertheless, I was prepared for it whenever it might happen because I didn’t really trust myself around him. Even though I vowed not to have sex with him yet, I made sure my legs were shaved and that I was wearing the laciest lingerie I had. I also made sure my birth control was up to date.

  I poured orange juice and rum into the punch bowl that sat atop the buffet table we’d set up in the tattoo shop. Delia had hung up festive red Christmas lights as decorations even though it wasn’t the holidays. Bob Marley was playing while she set out some appetizers. Tig was still working on the last customer in the back before closing for the party. A makeshift bar was stationed in the corner with our friend, Leroy, serving as both the bartender and DJ.

  Butterflies swarmed in my stomach at the thought of Graham meeting my friends. I couldn’t imagine him walking in here with his million-dollar suit, though. That was going to be a funny sight. I hoped that Tig and Delia didn’t think I was crazy for bringing him here. They were already wary of him because of my initial descriptions of his glowing personality. It had been hard to backtrack and explain to them why I was suddenly enamored with Mr. Big Prick. They still called him by that name.

  Checking my phone incessantly, I noticed that Graham was about five minutes late. People were starting to arrive, but he was all I could think about. I decided to distract myself by putting out some candy. That was when I heard Delia’s voice. “Please tell me that Clark Kent hottie who just walked in isn’t Mr. Big Prick, because I might have to fight you for him.”

  My heart started beating out of control at the sight of Graham in the doorway.

  Oh. My. God.

  He was dressed nothing like I’d ever seen before. There was no suit. Instead, he was wearing a black polo shirt that fit his chest like a glove made for pectoral muscles along with a pair of dark jeans. His hair was slicked back off to the side in a way that made him look younger. And he was wearing glasses. God, the bespectacled look really worked for him. It worked for me. A little too much.

  My body reacted more with every step he took toward me, the punch of his signature scent nearly knocking the wind out of me. While I had been trying to restrain myself, Graham pulled me into an easy hug and buried his mouth in my neck.

  “I missed you so fucking much, Soraya.”

  The strained sound of his words against my skin were enough to do me in. The night hadn’t even started, and my panties were already wet. I was ready to pull him into a supply closet.

  Jesus. Grab a hold of yourself.

  Graham’s brown eyes were searing into mine from beneath the lenses. They trailed down to my cleavage and back up again. I had dyed the ends of my hair purple and wore a similar color dress to match. He took a fistful of strands and gently tugged, whispering seductively in my ear, “Purple, huh?”

  I cleared my throat. “Yes.”

  “You told me the red signified anger. What does the purple mean?”

  “What’s with the glasses?”

  “Answer me first.”

  “Purple represents confusion or a dilemma.”

  He smirked. “I see.”

  “So, why the glasses?”

  “Honestly, I haven’t slept well. I’ve been worried about you but trying to give you space. When I don’t get my sleep, my eyes dry up. The glasses are more comfortable than contacts.”

  We stood there gazing into each other’s eyes for nearly a full minute before Delia interrupted our moment.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Big Prick…”

  Crap.

  Graham’s eyes widened as he offered her his hand before looking at me with an amused expression. “I guess my reputation has preceded me. I’ll choose to believe that Soraya came up with that nickname based on the literal and not figurative translation of prick.”

  “It was what I called you before we met…back in the days when I was holding your phone.”

  “And what made you come up with that name specifically?”

  “You reminded me of a jerkier Mr. Big from that show Sex and the City. Thus, Mr. Big Prick.”

  Graham slid his hand along my waist. “And who would you be…slutty Samantha?”

  I squinted in surprise. “You’ve watched that show?”

  “My mother used to watch it.”

  “That’s funny.” I smiled.

  “Now that you know me a little better, do I still remind you of that guy?”

  “Well, you do have a driver. So, I guess there are some similarities.”

  He wriggled his forehead. “Although, there’s no sex in our city, is there?”

  When I glared at him, he playfully kissed me on the cheek then ran his hand down my back, causing a shiver to run through me. This was going to be a long night.

  After introducing Graham to Leroy and a few of the other guests, I brought him over to meet Tig. My friend had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth when he offered Graham a handshake. “Mr. Big Prick…how the fuck are ya?”

  Graham rolled his eyes. “I’m well. You must be Tig.”

  “Anyway, I don’t know if Soraya told you, but she’s like my sister. And seeing as though she doesn’t have a blood brother or even a father who’s worth a piece of shit in her life, that means that if you hurt her, I’m gonna have to be the one to kick your ass. Just wanted to get that out of the way.”

  Graham nodded his head slowly in understanding. “I appreciate you looking out for her.”

  “Glad we cleared that up.” Tig snickered. “I would ask you if you want a tat on the house while you’re here…but something tells me you’re not into ink.”

  “I’m into her ink.” Graham winked at me then scratched his chin, looking like he was pondering something. “Actually, I might be interested. Do you fix tattoos as well?”

  “Yeah. What do you mean specifically?”

  “I have one that I don’t want anymore. It was a mistake, and I’d like to ink over and around it, change it into something else.”

  He had a tat? No fucking way.

  “Let’s take a look.” Tig waved his hand, prompting us to follow him.

  My eyes were glued to Graham’s ass, which looked amazing in those jeans. My hands longed to squeeze it. I wondered how he’d react if I did.

  The muffled sounds of the guests faded into the background when we entered the quiet of the back room. My breathing quickened as Graham slowly lifted his shirt over his head, tousling his hair. It was the first time I had ever seen his rippled chest in the flesh. His physique was beautiful beyond my imagination. It was clear he worked out hard. I couldn’t take my eyes off of his six-pack. His skin was so smooth and tanned. It was everything I had fantasized about and more. My hands tingled with a desperate need to feel his skin. My eyes traveled down the thin, happy trail of hair that led into his jeans before my gaze scrolled up again and landed on it: the tattoo on the left side of his torso. I squinted my eyes. It was a name written in script: Genevieve. My heart dropped. Swallowing my jealousy, I specifically chose not to ask the question I was dying to.

  Who the hell is Genevieve?

  It felt like my ears were burning. The only thing worse than worrying about Graham b
eing a manwhore was the possibility that there was someone out there who had actually meant something to him—meant enough to permanently mark his body with her name.

  Tig looked at me, sensing my discomfort then turned to Graham. “Who’s Genevieve?”

  Graham looked at me when he answered, “She’s an ex-girlfriend. Like I said, the tattoo was a mistake.” His expression lacked humor, and it made me even more curious about what might have happened between him and this woman.

  Tig took out a book that featured all sorts of designs with details that could mask the letters of the name. Graham chose an intricate tribal design.

  I stood there mesmerized, listening to the sound of the needle. The tension in the air was thick as Graham would look over at me from time to time. Tig was able to color in and shade over the name so that by the end, it looked like it was never there. The new tat looked super sexy against Graham’s olive skin. To be honest, I wanted to run my tongue over it.

  Tig placed a clear bandage over the design and gave him after-care instructions before Graham put his shirt back on.

  “Thanks, man. How much do I owe you?”

  Tig held out his hands. “Please. It’s on the house.”

  “I insist.”

  “Just take care of my girl. That’s all I need from you. Nothing else.”

  Graham looked at me. “I can do that.”

  Placing his hand on the small of my back, Graham led me through the door and back into the main room.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll take some of that punch over there.”

  Graham returned with two glasses of the spiked juice, and we both gulped them down swiftly. A stream of red liquid dripped down my cleavage. Before I could wipe it off, I felt Graham’s long finger running a line up the middle of my chest.

  “Messy girl,” he said as he licked the punch off of his index finger.

  That one single swipe practically did me in. I was so incredibly attracted to him, but never had I wanted him as badly as tonight. The casual clothes, the glasses, the way he was looking at me, seeing him shirtless like that…it was all too much. But more than anything, the lingering jealousy over “Genevieve” was driving me nuts the most. A foreign and uncontrollable sense of possessiveness came over me. My reaction was a wake-up call. I was already in too deep, destined to get hurt. Take that realization, add a little rum punch, and you got one hot mess.

  “You’re deep in thought tonight, Soraya. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  What felt like a hot flash started to permeate my body. Never in my life had I ever reacted to a man this way. Never had I felt so much fear and desire at the very same time. Certainly, never had the jealousy monster reared its ugly head. I didn’t want him to sense it. I needed to cool off.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said before making my way to the back of the shop. Before I could get very far, I felt a firm hand on my waist. Then, he pulled me into Tig’s office and shut the door, backing me against it with his arms locking me in on each side.

  “You think you’re the only one who is fucked up by what’s happening here?” he groaned.

  I stayed silent, trying to catch my breath.

  There was no light, and he didn’t attempt to find one. In the darkness of the office, I could barely see anything. I could only feel his chest against mine and his breath against my lips as he said, “You’re driving me crazy. I need to touch you. Please just let me taste you… just once.”

  Bending my head back, I pressed his head into my chest as he ran his tongue slowly down my cleavage, moaning over my skin. He pulled the top of my dress down, exposing my breast and took my nipple into his mouth, sucking so hard that it caused me to squeal. The muscles between my legs were pulsating with need. Even though I wanted him inside of me, I was terrified. I suddenly moved my face away from him and began to cover myself.

  Panting, he buried his nose in my neck and placed his hand over my heart. He pulled me closer to him. “God, listen to that heartbeat. You want me. I can feel it. But you’re so goddamn scared of me. Why?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered.

  He pulled back and cupped his hands around my cheeks. “Talk to me. Please. Whatever happened to make you so distrusting?”

  “I’m just afraid to get hurt.”

  “Who hurt you?”

  It was hard for even me to understand where this was coming from. I hadn’t even had a boyfriend who’d shattered my trust or broken my heart. It made no sense. I’d never really been in love before. The feelings that I had for Graham were new to me, but I didn’t want to admit that to him. The one thing I knew for sure was that my father was somehow at the root of my paranoia. So, I decided to tell Graham a story that might explain my fear of rejection, although I couldn’t say I truly understood it clearly myself. Anything was better than admitting to him that I’d never felt this way about anyone before, though.

  “When I was about ten years old, my parents divorced. My father ended up marrying a woman from the neighborhood. Theresa was a widow. She had three daughters, one of whom was my age and went to my school…Brianna. Anyway, my dad pretty much became their father and spent less and less time with my sister and me as a result. There was this father-daughter rose ceremony and dance that the school was putting on for girls in my age group. The dads were each supposed to buy a dozen roses for their daughter and then take pictures together at the dance. Anyway, my mother had asked my father if he was available to take me. He never got back to her. So, I ended up showing up at the school, all dressed up and hoping he would turn up. And he did…with Brianna. There she was, holding the big bunch of pink roses in one hand and my father’s hand in the other. I ran home crying, and when my mother confronted him, he said that he didn’t realize I was interested in going. He said that since Brianna’s dad was dead, it was important that he be there for her. He said he thought I would understand. Anyway, this has nothing to do with you, Graham. You asked why I have trust issues, and my father is really the only reason I can think of.”

  He took my face in his hands again and planted a firm and passionate kiss on my lips. My body relaxed into him, and when he pulled away, I longed for him to just keep kissing me.

  “I’m sorry that happened. That is so incredibly shitty. And it does explain a lot.”

  “Yeah…thank you.”

  “I was pretty much an only child,” he said. “My father was never in the picture, which might have been better than a rejection later on. I don’t know.”

  “So, it was just you and your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did she die?”

  “Lung cancer when I was a teenager.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you.” He paused then said, “It was hard. I vowed never to allow myself to become attached to anyone after that. I didn’t ever want to suffer that kind of loss again. My mother’s death is a big reason I am the way I am…closed off and cold. At the same time, it motivated me to be the best that I could be in other ways, to make her proud. So, some good and bad came of it.”

  My stomach churned as I prepared to ask the question I needed an answer to. “Did you become attached to Genevieve?”

  “Yes,” he simply said.

  My heart was palpitating. “How long were you with her?”

  “Two and a half years.”

  “I see.”

  When I looked down, he placed his hand on my chin and moved my face to meet his eyes in the darkness. “What do you want to know, Soraya? Ask me.”

  “What happened with you and her?”

  “Genevieve took a job with me as a broker right out of school. We were serious…or so I thought. Anyway, to make a very long story short, I actually started my company with a friend of mine named Liam Gainesworth. Liam, Genevieve, and I worked very closely together. I eventually found out they were having an affair behind my back. Liam went on to start his own company, which is now one of my competitors and took Gen
evieve with him.”

  Wow.

  “That’s awful. I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It wasn’t meant to be.”

  “I know, but I can tell that it hurt you.”

  “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

  “What does that have to do with it?”

  “Because I don’t want to be anywhere but here. If anything were different in my life, I might not be. I don’t understand it, either, Soraya. This. What’s happening between us. I can’t make any promises. I just know I don’t want it to stop.”

  Neither do I.

  “We’d better go back out before they think we’re—”

  “Fucking?”

  “Yeah.”

  He buried his face in my neck and chuckled against my neck. “God forbid.”

  “Thank you for being patient with me.”

  He growled, “Patient isn’t the right word...”

  “Maybe not.”

  As I took his hand to lead him out of the room, he nudged me back for a moment. “Hey…” When I turned to face him, he leaned his forehead against mine. “I’ll wait as long as you want me to. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Thank you.”

  We were both much more relaxed after our talk. We spent the rest of the night quietly listening to the conversations around us at the party. I leaned my back into Graham, who wrapped his arms around my waist, the warmth of his body balancing out the goosebumps from the contact. I didn’t know where this was going, and for the first time, I resolved not to analyze it.

  CHAPTER 10

  SORAYA

  THE NEXT DAY AT THE OFFICE, they kept coming in droves. Dozens of roses. Pink ones, red ones, yellow ones. A new dozen was delivered every hour. It took me a bit to figure out why he was doing it. It was the story I told him about my father and the rose ceremony. I later found a card that had fallen off of the first dozen that read, These are long overdue. My heart felt heavy and filled with something unidentifiable all at once.