Skin Deep (Ink & Brazen Women)

by Cassie Leigh

  She braced her palms against Chad’s shoulders. He moaned into her mouth. Gag—she was about ten seconds from puking in his nasty maw. In desperation, she let her hand fly. The strike stung her palm as it connected with his cheek. As many times as she slapped this jerk, you’d think he’d get a clue.

  Finally, he pulled back, rubbing his palm across the red mark she left with a grin. “Damn baby, I can give it to you rough if that’s how you like it.”

  “You don’t get to call me baby, you little arrogant prick.” Gigi spat at his feet and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

  “There’s nothing little about me—or do you need a reminder.” He groped his junk as if it was some kind of prize.

  Gigi laughed—to hell with this wannabe frat boy. “What I need is you gone. You, on the other hand, need a reality check and a ruler. Then you need to get out of here before my boyfriend shows up and kicks your ass.”

  She left the food where it dropped and charged past Chad before he could grab her again. She’d order pizza. Slamming the outside door behind her, she raced up the stairs—praying to whoever was out there that Chad didn’t follow.

  The thirty seconds she wasted with her hands shaking so bad that she dropped her keys twice, flashed at her like the countdown in a stupid bomb squad action movie, as she struggled with the lock on her door. Precious time lost that left her more vulnerable and exposed than she’d ever been. There was a certain amount of danger inherent in being a single woman who liked casual sex. She hadn’t been blind to her risks. It made her vibrate with fury that when she made the conscious choice to settle down, this could still happen to her.

  When the lock finally turned, she flung herself through the door, and slammed it behind her—locking and dead bolting it. She backed away from it slowly, eyes fixed on the handle waiting for it to rattle, waiting for him to pound on the door and demand entry.

  Gigi sank to the floor. She had no idea how many minutes passed before her racing heart and hard breathing calmed enough to think past the bile still lodged in the back of her throat. The memory of Chad’s cold prodding tongue forcing his way into her mouth had her scrambling up, racing to the bathroom to clean out her mouth.

  Items clattered into the sink as she swiped up the bottle of mouthwash. She chugged it like a junkie looking for a fix, swishing it to let the burn chase away the nastiness. Holding her hair back, she leaned forward to spit it out and watch the blue liquid swirl past the fallen items. She turned on the tap to rinse it away. If only her wannabe stalker could be disposed of so easily.

  Where was Roman? The burn of the mouthwash helped but she needed another taste of his lips and tongue to erase the lingering memory of Chad’s violation. Nothing else would cut it. How pathetic she’d become in such a short time.

  With the worst of the frenzy worn down to a dull edge, she padded back into the living room in search of her phone. She scooped her purse up off the floor where she left it. When her hand hit the empty space in the pocket where it should have been, her breath caught. NO—this wasn’t happening. She needed to call Roman. She needed him now—like air—because she was drowning in emotion. She’d never waded this far out before, never used a pole to catch just one man instead of a net to bring in many and now she was going under.

  Gigi, dumped the contents of her bag on the sofa. Change bounced off the cushion, clattering to the floor. A lipstick tube rolled under the coffee table. The detritus of her life spread out before her—but no phone.

  Panic weighed on her shoulders, a heavy blanket, smothering her forced calm. Closing her eyes, Gigi straightened, pinching the bridge of her nose as she measured her breathing carefully. Here was her addiction—her and every other twenty-something American woman—her phone. She always had it on her—always—until Roman. Until he had distracted her with a kiss and words that made her ever-churning brain stutter and pause to feel the present in a way she never knew she’d always been chasing until she found it. Now, standing here with his absence she needed a fix.

  What time was it anyway? She glanced across the room. The red numbers set the frown in deeper. An hour had passed since she left Roman at the shop. How long did it take him to clean? A smile tugged at her lips as she pictured him on his knees scrubbing the mirror and then on his knees for something dirty. She felt calmer already.

  The front desk. She left the phone on the desk before she sat in the chair.

  A hysterical giggle bubbled up inside of her. Smutty thoughts gave her peace and apparently mental clarity. Well, one thought did at least. The giggle turned into laughter that brought the sting of tears. Gigi collapsed down onto her sofa. She was crazy as fuck. What kind of her person functioned like that? Apparently, she did, and Roman wanted her this way.

  She just had to wait for him. He promised. For the first time, she was going to trust a man to be what he said he would be—honest.

  ..................

  Roman felt her standing behind him. The heat of her presence caressing his neck and shoulders before he heard the soft click of the office door closing raised the hair on his neck in gluttonous anticipation. Eighteen hours of knowledge—of heartbreak at Gigi’s feet or more accurately her lips—hadn’t been enough to cool his body’s reaction to her. He guessed no amount of time would. Disappointment burned in the hollow place in his chest left where his heart should have been.

  Scrubbing his hand across two days’ worth of beard, he turned in his chair, leaning back, legs spread, his glasses gripped in one hand, arms crossed over his chest as if he could hide the hole there. What he hadn’t expected was to see the torment reflected at him through her red-rimmed eyes.

  He’d never seen her without makeup. Even when they’d slept together she’d been wearing the remnants of the previous evening’s cosmetic mask. But here she stood, face utterly bare and more ethereal for its absence of color against the backdrop of her dark waves. The combination made her green eyes standout impossibly large, eyes in which he once believed he saw forever. He turned his face away from the lies they told for her.

  “I waited for you all night.” The softly spoken words croaked out of her as if her vocal cords were as raw as her freshly scrubbed skin. It rang with bitter disappointment as if he was the one who’d fucked up.

  He turned his whole body away from her, facing the wall—anything but her. “You left your phone on the desk.”

  The silence hung there like a physical being standing between them. There was another person standing between them—another man’s lips that had stolen what Roman had coveted for himself. She had to know he caught her. She had to.

  “I figured that out when I couldn’t call you. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?”

  “I am. Unless I’m missing something, I thought we established yesterday, that’s you.” Gigi’s fingers brushed his shoulder, her grip light; as though she wasn’t sure she was welcome. Her touch burned through the thin cotton of his t-shirt and like a masochist, he wanted more, but that with the uncertain tremor in her voice was too much.

  Roman tossed his glasses on the desk before he could crush them and stood, forcing her hand to drop. “I don’t have time for this game, Gigi. I’ve got a client due in any minute.”

  She braced a staying hand against his chest that he shook off, making her face close down in confusion. “Your client can wait. I need to know what happened.”

  “What happened is that I thought I knew where we stood, but after that scene in front of your building yesterday, it’s clear the position wasn’t vacant like you led me to believe.”

  Her jaw hung slack and he could see the puzzle pieces drop into place.

  “What you saw was a jerk who won’t take no for an answer. You’re the one I want. I’ve never let anyone else…”

  Unable to stomach another lie, Roman pushed past her. “We’ve rushed into something we shouldn’t have. Now, I’m done with this conversa
tion. I’m going to work.” Opening the office door, he stepped out in front of the mirror where anyone could hear their business—where he’d last tasted heaven. He closed his eyes against the image of her naked and pressed up against the glass just for him. He shook his head to clear the invading memory and opened his eyes.

  “I thought you were different.” The words were whispered. Her pained expression, the tears gathering like a storm in her eyes, reflected at him in the mirror. Her next words came out stronger—they were the ones meant to cut. “That’s why I trusted you—only you. Whatever else you think of me, I am not my father’s daughter. I will never be that low and if you think I could do that to you or anyone else—you aren’t the man I thought you were.”

  Her back ramrod straight, eyes cold and hard—she became the eye of the storm. She marched past him this time. Fragile dignity covered her like a familiar armor. Without needing to pause, she scooped up her forgotten phone and purse on her way to the door, which slammed behind her with all the force of a hurricane wind.

  CHAPTER 16

  ..................

  GOD BLESS VODKA. MEN LET Gigi down but the liquid burn of her cocktail never did—and neither did Tinder until now. Sprawled out in yoga pants and nursing her cocktail, she scrolled through the listings on her phone. Too tall, too plain, too hairy, too bald—ugh and she’d already done that one. The neckline of her oversized t-shirt hung off her shoulder. She tugged her blouse up as she scrolled. What had she been thinking to fuck that? None of them were right. None of them were Roman.

  Damn it—she was going to be a sexless spinster if she couldn’t move on. She needed more liquid courage and a reality check from Ann to get through her first breakup. Ann would know what Roman was thinking. Her friend would have dirt on the last bitch that fucked Roman over so that Gigi could blame someone other than herself. That wasn’t quite right either. Aw shit—She should have listened to her friend, kept her word. No—she owed Ann an apology and a drink. Well, the liquor cabinet was open. There was no time like the present.

  Gigi closed her app and dialed her friend—the sister of her lover. Former. She shoved the thought down and hit send. It rang twice before Ann picked up. Gigi opened her mouth to speak and began sobbing into the phone instead.

  “Oh my god—you’re drunk dialing me, aren’t you?” Ann’s annoyed sigh came through so clearly that Gigi could imagine the matching eye roll. “What did my brother do? Hold that thought—you’re in no state to tell me over the phone. I’m sure this is going to end up more like Pictionary. I’m on my way over.”

  The line went dead. Gigi stared down at her blackened screen as she hiccupped through her tears. Had that just happened? Ann was always brisk and efficient, but Gigi couldn’t make sense of Ann placing the blame on Roman without hearing what happened. It was backwards from everything Gigi expected. She pictured the look on Ann’s face when she’d come up to Gigi at the gallery to warn her about her father and discovered Roman’s possessive hand at her waist. That look did not match the words that had rushed from Ann just moments before.

  Had everyone lost their minds? Gigi reclined her head against the arm of the sofa, balancing her cocktail on her stomach. She focused on the transparent pink liquid. She had lost her mind over a pair of amber eyes, fingers that played her as if he owned her, and sex that made her feel. Roman had lost his over what he thought he witnessed. Those all followed a twisted sort of logic. Ann’s reaction was the one that didn’t match the evidence.

  Gigi wouldn’t have to wait long. Only a quarter of an hour had passed when Ann flung the apartment door open. It struck the wall, bouncing the art off kilter. Ann neatly sidestepped its path before it slammed shut. “Don’t you lock this thing? What if I had been Chad?”

  “That piece of trash,” Gigi slurred as she sat up thumping down her martini glass hard enough that the contents left a pink splash against the white painted surface of the coffee table. She hung her head, burying her face in her hands as a fresh wave of tears took hold—pissing her off further. “How do I shut these feelings off?”

  “I’m on my lunch break. You have an hour to cry on my shoulder.”

  Gigi eyed Ann’s power suit. Double shit—Noon. Kinda early to be this far-gone.

  The sofa shifted under Gigi as her friend sat beside her. Ann slid her arm around Gigi’s shoulders. “You better start from the beginning. How long did it take you to sleep with my brother and what did Chad do to scare him off?”

  Leave it to Ann to get straight to the point. Again, none of this matched Gigi’s expectations.

  “You aren’t angry with me?” She peeked sideways through her fingers.

  Ann shook her head, her face pinched with dismay while glaring sideways back at Gigi as if she’d said something stupid. “Why would I be?”

  Gigi turned herself to face Ann. She swiped at the tears still rolling embarrassingly down her cheeks. Ann’s expression softened, her eyebrows raised as she waited for Gigi’s answer. All she saw from her friend was sincere concern and confusion. None of the judgment she’d assumed.

  “I broke my promise. I didn’t even last two weeks before I messed around with your brother.” Gigi let the admission hang, blinking back tears.

  “No, you didn’t. I mean you did obviously sleep with my brother or you wouldn’t be in this sorry state now, but you didn’t break your promise.”

  Ann crossed the room to the desk. Opening the center drawer, she reached in and pulled out a pink leatherette address book. She flipped through the pages as she walked back to the sofa until she came to the section she’d been seeking. Her finger scanned down the page. Smiling she closed the slim book and tossed it onto Gigi’s lap.

  “Roman’s name isn’t in your book. He isn’t a toy for you. That’s what you promised me.” Ann smile faltered as she sat down and put her arm around Gigi as she hiccupped on new tears. “My brother’s an idiot. I’ve been playing matchmaker from the start and now you love him, don’t you? I told that ass to take care of you.”

  Mouth hanging open in a surprised O, Gigi stared at Ann, blinking slowly.

  Her friend continued in her usual rambling style. “I don’t even know what happened yet, but I know he didn’t listen to me. You aren’t the problem. I delivered him my best friend on a rose gold platter and he screwed it up.”

  In the way a child would stroke a worry blanket, Gigi thumbed through the pages of the small book in her lap. “It’s not all his fault. I should have told him about Chad. I planned to, but not soon enough. Maybe then when Chad kissed me, Roman would have trusted me.”

  The last thing she should do was defend the man breaking her heart, the only man she’d ever given access. Of course, she hadn’t really given it to him. He pulled it from her piece by piece, until there was nothing left to do but hand it to him. The least she could do was own up to her part in all this.

  Ann leaned away from Gigi as she spoke. “What? Chad was at my front door. He kissed me and Roman must have been close enough to see it. He thought Chad was my boyfriend.”

  Ann dropped her head back in apparent exasperation. “I told him to watch out for you. That something was wrong. That ass—he never listens. Never did when we were kids either.”

  Gigi should have seen Ann’s subtle manipulation sooner, might have seen it if she hadn’t been so absorbed in her own issues—in Roman. In the end, Ann’s role didn’t matter. Roman asked for trust, then refused to give his. She’d opened herself up, shared pieces of herself—gave him the trust she’d been denied. If he’d shown her the same trust, he’d have given her the chance to explain. All along, he’d acted like he understood the way she was and why without her having to explain. He gave every indication that he understood more about her than she would ever say. He’d taken her sordid past in stride—until Chad. Roman and her first foray into love had let her down.

  Gigi pushed her vodka cranberry across the coffee table. The pink cocktail sloshed over the edge of the glass, adding to the streak of sloppe
d liquor. “Vodka drowns other people’s stupidity. Have some. I’ve got some Ben & Jerry’s too. If the booze doesn’t cut it, the sugar high will.”

  Ann took the offered drink, slugged it back and then slammed the empty glass on the table in front of her. She coughed and shook her head. “I’ll pass on that ice cream. The liquid fire is enough for the ass I’m about to kick.”

  “I’ve got this. You just hang in there.” She patted Gigi on the knee. “My brother is going to come groveling. The fool just doesn’t know it yet.”

  ..................

  Roman picked at the label on his beer bottle. He alternated between peeling it off in long strips and twirling the bottle to find a fresh patch to ruin. A row of bottles stood like naked brown soldiers between him and Billy, who happened to be tending the bar tonight—the same bar he’d met her in—and the douche she cheated on him with.

  He gave her credit for having the balls to admit she knew what he caught her doing, but they must have been made of solid brass for her to go on insisting she hadn’t been cheating from the start or even just in that moment. It didn’t matter how he felt about her—he would not be played for a fool.

  Despite this conviction, branding her as another heartless bitch, ate at him as false. Images of Gigi, the anger she’d been projecting when the douche laid his lips over hers. That had been a real emotion, not her mask. Even after two short weeks, he felt he could see the difference. His broken heart tortured him with the confusion in her expression when he’d called her out on her bullshit, the shock and pain drawn all over the pretty lines of her face.

  His heart was working on false data, he reminded it, as he tipped back the dregs of his beer.