by Cassie Leigh
To find out Roman needed to be rid of this ass-clown so they could talk it out. “Do you have a hearing problem? She said go.”
Chad jumped as if Roman had punched him again, and he wished the little puke would do something just so he could justify lighting up his ass proper.
The pussy-ass lawyer pulled his haughty frat boy mask on, it appeared eerily like the one Gigi’s father had flung at him this morning like a dagger. “You won’t last. She’ll get tired of you too and when she does I’ll be here waiting.”
“You hassle her again—whether she wants me or not—I will come for you.” Roman paused as the smaller man moved forward either to pass or make a move. Idiot.
With Gigi clinging to Roman’s side, he wasn’t willing to risk her safety. Roman turned, giving Chad his unguarded left side. This put Gigi as far away from her attacker as Roman could get her without letting go—and there was no chance in hell he was doing that—but he needed to make this warning stick. Men like Chad didn’t give up unless it was worth their while.
Reaching out he grabbed the smaller man’s tie, pulling him in and up almost on his toes. Roman kept his voice low and menacing. “I promise you—I know people. I will make you hurt. Me and every resource I have will rain down on you like fire until you wish you had never said her name.”
The MMA bad asses Roman sank his ink into at Hard Luck Fight Club would ride or die over something like this. They were a good bunch of guys and would think nothing of backing Roman up in defense of a lady. They were also scary enough to prove a point to a pencil-pushing douche without having to hurt him if it came to that. Roman didn’t think of himself as sadistic, but the thought of watching Chad piss himself when they rolled up might be worth doing anyway.
Chad followed orders and left, giving them a wide berth as he tucked his tail and ran away. Although if Roman had to guess he’d say Gigi’s threat held more weight in making Chad move along than Roman’s had.
Gigi slumped in Roman’s arms, exhaustion heavy in her voice. “I have not had enough coffee for this much drama. Take me upstairs, please.”
Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her firm against his hip before moving. She didn’t object to the nearness. The tiny flame of hope burned a little brighter. He should temper it—he knew—she could be too exhausted or afraid to be alone. He might just be convenient.
Roman made short work of getting her up to her door and she had her keys ready. He half expected she would pull away and leave him standing in the hall. She didn’t, but instead gently nudged him the direction she wanted him to go and didn’t stop until they were in her kitchen.
Gigi leaned against the counter and he took the hint, pulling back. At least he did until her hand shot out and gripped the front of his shirt. “Don’t go.” The words were soft, almost as if they were part of her breathing.
“I’m not going if you don’t want me to, beautiful.” Roman gently stroked her jawline where Chad had gripped, replacing that controlling touch with a better one, and directing her gaze up from the floor. “I just want to lock the door in case he’s dumb enough to come back. Can I do that?”
Gigi nodded and released her hold on his white cotton shirt. Backing out of the tiny kitchen, Roman kept his eyes fixed on her, as if he might wake up and discover he’d passed out drunk again lamenting his mistake. He only glanced away to lock the door. Had the room been this small when he brought her home last time? All that colorful art on her walls crowded him until there was no room for air, let alone the feelings constricting his chest. He wanted to be here—wanted this chance to apologize. Rubbing the tightness over his heart, he took a deep breath and returned to his girl—at least he hoped she would be his again.
Turning back to face the writing on the wall and give voice to the emotions squeezing the air from his chest, he found her, still in the kitchen but with her back to him. She slid her cup out from under her Keurig. She turned, giving him a view of her profile. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she brought the steaming cup to her lips. Her shaking hands had the coffee slopping over the side of the mug, making her wince as the scalding liquid hit her fingers. She set it down again without drinking a drop.
Watching her—witnessing her careful control splintering gave him the motivation to speak.
“I meant what I said today. I need you, Gigi, and I’m sorry.”
Gigi held her hand out to hold him off as she doubled over at the waist. A sob broke free. Pain lanced through his chest. He’d done that to her, put her through this. She straightened but leaned against the counter.
“Why.” That one word came out raw, as if every ounce of stress filtered through it.
The ache in his chest told him to say the words that would take away both of their pain. “Because I love you. You’re a mystery that I love to study every moment of the day—reading your moods and the unsaid words hiding in plain sight—so vivid I could paint them.” He stepped into her, riding the spill of words until his chest pressed against her outstretched hand. “Your grace under pressure, and the fissures I see in that strength let me know you’re real and honest—something I was too wrapped up in my own past to see.”
Gigi turned her green eyes up at him; tears shimmered on the edges made them luminous. Her fingers dug into his shirt and she gripped, thumping the side of her fist against his chest. “You let me down. You changed me and then you let me down. You can’t do that to me anymore.”
“I can’t promise you I will never hurt you—beautiful. All I can offer is that I will be a better man. Every day I will try to be a better man than I was before, I will never be those bastards that made you an object. You are not property to me, and I will never confuse your actions for hers ever again.”
He pulled her into the circle of his embrace, leaving her arm smashed between them, still holding his shirt like it was a lifeline. She could take it off his back, tattoo it with her makeup—he didn’t give a damn so long as she forgave him.
Gigi melted into his embrace but continued to stare up at Roman with shining eyes, waiting. He could see the question in her eyes before the words left her lips. “Tell me about her? Whose lipstick stains do I have to erase from your soul.”
“More like claw marks. The day I caught my ex on her knees for somebody else was the day she should’a stopped mattering. I gave her too much power.” It was only because of Gigi that he could see it. He meant it—every word. “But it’s okay now. You tattooed your lipstick right over the top of those scars in your own unique shade of pink. Ink is forever.”
He ran his hands up and down her sides, soothing her and sating his own starvation for contact. She sighed with content. “Roman, I’m sorry too. I should have told you about, Chad. I meant to tell you.”
Leaning back, he tilted her chin up to look at him. “You’re not taking any of this on your shoulders. Do you hear me? I asked you for honesty and then I didn’t trust you enough to give you that chance. This one is all on me.”
CHAPTER 20
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GIGI’S PAIN AND GUILT FOUND a shocked mirror in the hard frown that creased Roman’s face. Neither of them deserved to suffer another second of it. Not when they could erase it all and start again with a better understanding of each other.
“I give zero fucks whose fault it is. We’re both letting it go.” Gigi had never meant those words more than now. They were starting over. This second. There was no need to drag blame in it.
Roman shook his head and opened his mouth as if he might argue but she cut him off. “I want that afternoon back, with the Chinese food and just us, shut up in here, making love and figuring out what it is to be us. Not to get stuck in this thing that tarnished our start.”
Lowering his lips to hers, he took her soft and sweet. A kiss that was more apology when she wanted passion. Conviction burned inside of her, fanning the flame of her rising desire for him—desire that had been building since that right hook downstairs and amplified by each soothing stroke of his hands
. Patience had never been one of her virtues. She leaned into him, deepening that kiss, chasing his tenderness with her own raw need. She hooked her free hand into his waistband, her thumb toying with the button. He groaned against her lips and she opened to him.
Roman’s hands moved over her body until both found her ass. He used his hold to lift her up, sitting her on the counter. She knocked over the forgotten mug. Hot coffee spilled across the counter.
He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. The rumble of his rich laughter made her thighs tingle. He spread her knees and pushed the skirt up her thighs. His thumbs traced tiny circles moving further up the inside with each pass. “We’re pretty damn good at making a mess, beautiful.”
“Love’s messy. Don’t let it stop you. I’m not anymore.” Her heart thundered in her chest. Those words—they were the closest she’d ever been to admitting her own feelings. Adrenaline spiked through her, like she was about to cliff dive instead of verbalizing her emotions. Giving her body to the one man who could break her—who nearly had—seemed easy in comparison. She’d never been this alive or turned on in her life.
Roman’s laughter died as what she said seemed to register past his lust. “Are you trying to tell me something?” He slid those magic hands under her skirt and worked her tiny lace thong—black layered over pink satin—down her thighs. “I don’t need the words. I know.”
Slipping them over her calves, he worked the silky fabric past her one remaining shoe. Caught up in Roman, she had forgotten all about the awkward balance. She shifted to toe it off, but he held her ankle still and shook his head. He stepped back, letting her panties fall, forgotten on the floor. His golden eyes didn’t leave hers as he reached into his jacket pocket for her matching hot pink shoe. As he stroked her calf, he slid the missing pump back where it belonged. “You have no idea the filthy images those heels inspire.”
Gigi pushed Roman’s jacket down his arms. He allowed it to drop to the floor with her panties. The color it revealed made her groan and her body flush with a new surge of heat.
It would be so easy to play along and talk dirty right back. It’s what she would have done with any other man. Roman was uncharted territory and deserved more. There would be plenty of time for those kinds of words later. “I’ve never said it before.”
“I know.” He reached over his head and pulled his t-shirt off by the scruff of his neck, revealing still more color.
For a moment, all that temptation stole her words. She reached out, laying one manicured nail on his chest to trace the red-filigreed lock shaped like a heart. It lay over his sternum in a bed of roses, the matched piece to the swallow on his neck that flew carrying the key. He painted his past on his skin to speak for him. She would have to use actual words. “I want to.”
He waited, not pushing or drawing it out of her as he had every other confession she’d made to him along their twisted path into this relationship. This had to be all her. “I have rules.”
It was a strange place to start, but she needed him to know the full magnitude of this—how she didn’t take this lightly. This was her making a commitment. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he slowly worked his way down the buttons of her blouse. His fingers tattooed an invisible trail one exposed inch at a time as he worked his sensual distraction. It somehow made the words easier to say.
“I don’t sleep with people at work, I don’t screw with people who matter to the few people I care about, and I don’t do feelings.” Roman counted each off with a kiss along her collarbone.
Gigi swallowed hard as his thumbs found her nipples through the lace of her bra—the abrasive pink material she’d worn just to tease him, scraping her sensitized peaks. Finding her voice despite the building pressure in her sex, she continued, “There are others, but those are the ones I let you break.” She pulled his face up level with her own so that she could focus on the warm amber of his eyes. “I love you, so I let you. I fell so hard that you became the one thing I can’t hide from.”
Roman moved his hands from her breasts to frame her face, again mirroring her. “I loved you almost from the moment I met you.”
Under the intense scrutiny of his gaze, Gigi smiled like the shy virgin she hadn’t been since she was eighteen. Her bare ass squirmed on the wet stone counter. “I never believed that kind of fantasy happened. But you defy all my careful rules.”
“We can make new rules together. And you can hide as much as you need. I’ll always find you.”
“Can we start with Kinky Wednesdays? I’ve gotten a certain fantasy stuck in my head involving you and my frilly apron.” She waggled her eyebrows as she gave him her best suggestive smile.
Roman’s shoulders shook with his laughter. Damn—she loved the rich sound of it. The reward of his joy gave her a new kind of pleasure that went beyond the carnal that she always sought out. She could become just as addicted to that feeling as she had the other.
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but why wait for Wednesday when I could do it for you now?”
“Right now, I want something else.”
Gigi slid down off the counter, and shimmied out of her rucked-up skirt, then dropped her blouse and bra to the growing pile of discarded clothes. In nothing but the pink heels he found so sexy and the mark of his ink on her skin, she felt like a pinup goddess as she sauntered toward her bedroom. His hot gaze warmed her naked skin. For the first time, she felt like more than an object. She’d always believed there was power in that but no—this love that went under the surface held the real power.
Leaning against the doorframe to her bedroom, Gigi smiled back at Roman. He stood where she left him. A half-naked statue come to life and he loved her—just her. “You should order the takeout for delivery. It’s early yet and you’ll need to regain your strength.”
His face lit up with what she hoped was wicked intent. “Beautiful, I plan to keep you too busy to do much more than answer the door, but I hear it’s great the morning after.”
EPILOGUE
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SUNDAY MORNINGS IN THE SHOP were Gigi’s favorite. This was especially true now that the oppressive heat of August hung in the air like a steaming wet towel. Air conditioning made everything better. It allowed her to enjoy the sunshine filtering in through the front window dappling her skin as she lay stretched out on the fully reclined barber chair.
Most of the time he came in to paint while she stretched out on the chaise in their corner to read a novel. Last month she’d caught on that he’d been painting her—just as she was—in her pink tank top and shorts, with a book in her hand. He’d rendered her as if she were a casual goddess. It hung in his place, above the bed. She almost felt bad about it because he spent nearly every night in hers.
Today it was her turn to serve as canvas instead of subject. The satisfying hum of Roman’s tattoo gun mixed with today’s soundtrack of Sara Bareilles and Adele. Roman let her decide the music when they came in to expand her new art collection. It allowed her to drift out on the slow burn of the needle carving a path through her skin.
“How you holdin’ up, beautiful?” He looked over the top edge of his glasses, a sexy smirk halfcocked. She loved those glasses and often asked him to wear them to bed so he could give her just that look from between her thighs.
Gigi gave him a lazy smile. “You know…kind of blissed out right now. I’m glad we’re getting this finished though.”
Roman finally started working on the under bust tattoo she’d originally envisioned for herself. The lace like filigree, pink roses and chandelier swags of jewels, made her feel like a human piece of Faberge—her tattoo turned into so much more than she could have hoped. His illustrative style never failed to convey just the story she wanted told. They were taking their time, small sessions every now and again, so that she could savior the experience. For her she found the pain-pleasure paradox became a kind of meditation.
“Do you still think you only want ink where you can hide it? That really limits
what I can give you.” He rubbed coco butter into the inflamed skin, soothing the last of her newly laid ink.
“I like that it’s our secret—something just for the two of us to enjoy.”
Roman sat back, beginning his station breakdown as he spoke. “What if I wanted to put one someplace others could see it? Something we’d both have?”
He was going somewhere with this. The months with him taught her that he led her along with subtle suggestion. He may talk gruff and use crude direct language at times, but he meandered methodically in getting what he went after, especially with her. He’d never been underhanded about it, just gently persuasive while taking the long way around. Having the time to learn him like this, intimately, and letting him know her had brought its own unexpected rewards.
She pursed her lips, considering. “I never gave a couple tattoo any thought before.”
“No names, I wouldn’t want that—it’s the kiss of death.” He peeled his gloves off and got down on the floor. Down on one knee. He took her hand and began toying with her left ring finger. “What about here.”
She blinked back tears. “Are you asking what I think you are?”
He reached down pulling something out of the pocket of his jeans. “Maybe, you could hide it with this.” Covering her hand with his own, she felt the warm metal slid up her finger radiated his body heat. “That way it’s still our secret.”
When he pulled his hands back, a pale green stone like a minty sea foam but bright and clear, rested on her finger. The grid of facets cut into the cushion shaped gem caught the light and shimmered along with its halo of diamonds. Even the subtle pink of the rose gold band resting on her finger struck her as lovely and elegant. An untraditional ring for an untraditional couple.
“Oh. My. God. Yes!” She slid off the chair and into his waiting arms.
Roman fell backwards onto his ass, chuckling between her kisses. “You didn’t even let me ask.”
“But I know the question.” She claimed his mouth for another quick kiss. “You were taking too long.”