Skin Deep

by J. M. Stone

  Skin Deep

  By J.M. Stone

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  Copyright ©2013 by J.M. Stone

  Cover Design by J.M. Stone

  Cover Image CopyRight ©Jeff Thrower/Shutterstock.com

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  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. Ebook copies may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share with a friend, please buy an extra copy, and thank you for respecting the author’s work.

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the publisher, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the internet without the publisher’s permission and is a violation of the International copyright law, which subjects the violator to severe fines and imprisonment.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents, and places are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events are entirely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

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  Table of Contents:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Dedication

  To all the dreamers who ever wanted to accomplish something, and had the courage to do it. And to Jenn, my number one cheerleader (and ESIL).

  Chapter One

  “Oh my good…glory be to…Lord love a…sweet baby Jesus…” I breathed.

  Allie quirked a brow at me and nudged me with her elbow. “Wanna close your mouth, sweetie? And how many old adages can you cram into one sentence, anyway?” she snorted.

  Allie is my best friend, and has been since grade school, but she could be my worst enemy, too. Especially at times like this. She’s an olive skinned beauty, topping out at five foot two, with short, thick black hair, currently highlighted with purple and cut in a pixie-ish way. She has shockingly bright blue eyes that dance with mischief, and she is feisty as hell. To top off all that cuteness? She’s built like a brick shithouse, which for one, isn’t fair, and two, who came up with that saying, anyway?

  I shook myself out of my stupor as Allie laughed quietly at my side. What? I mean, come on, when faced with a stack of deliciousness like the one standing not fifteen feet from me, wouldn’t you be a little…I don’t know, drooly?

  Allie grabbed my arm and started dragging me further into the shop towards the counter. I started dragging my feet and fighting her, just then remembering why I wasn’t happy with her in the first place.

  “Allie, I told you, I am not getting a tattoo! I promised you that I would come watch while you got your tongue, or toe, or whatever weird part of your body you decided on, pierced, but that’s it!” I tried to remove my arm from her grasp, which tightened as she dug her fingertips into me, but ended up just looking like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum.

  I drew up short when I realized that we had an audience. That stack of deliciousness I mentioned? Yeah. Staring at us. Smirking. Oh. My. God. I stopped struggling with Allie and she let go of my arm. I smoothed down my shirt, which had started riding up during my struggles, and cleared my throat. Allie rolled her eyes and continued walking to the counter, leaving me behind.

  “ My friend here, er, well, there…,” Allie looked over her shoulder at me and jerked her head in my direction, “she wants to get a tattoo.” That stack of deliciousness glanced my way and gave me a small wink. (Whoa!) “But, she’s kind of scared.”

  I bristled a bit at that. What? Scared? Me? Pshaw…ok, yeah. I was. What of it? I mean, who really wants to spend, like, hours with someone digging sharp pointy things that buzz rather loudly into their skin?

  “Aw, sugar, don’t be scared,” the stack of deliciousness said. “Why don’t you come on up here with me and pick something out? I’ll do you myself, and I promise, I’ll be gentle.”

  Whoa. Talk about a double entendre…

  Stack of deliciousness had a voice that was smooth as silk and rich as sin. And Lord, those eyes of his! Intense smoky, blue-grey eyes stared at me from under a shock of unruly black hair that swept down over his right eye. He was wearing a black, long sleeved t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. I could see black swirls of ink on both of his arms, but couldn’t make out any specific designs without moving closer. He had a silver ring piercing his left lower lip, which made me unconsciously trace the tip of my tongue over my own lip. Which made him quirk his eyebrow at me. Ooh.

  I noticed Allie looking pointedly in my direction before swinging her attention back to Stack. “So, yeah, Emma’s going to come up here and pick something out, but until she actually moves her ass, I’d like to see about getting my tongue pierced. Do you do those, too?

  Stack glanced at Allie. “Yeah, we do that. Brandon is free right now, too, so I’ll get you set up with him and then see what we can do about green eyes over there.” He sent a look in my direction that dared me to come closer. Then he looked back at Allie and handed her some paperwork to fill out. “Just answer those questions honestly, please, and then sign and date at the bottom.” Looking back to me, he asked, “So, sugar, you just gonna stand there all day?”

  I took a deep breath and decided that I couldn’t back down from the challenge in his eyes. I mentally coached myself that I wasn’t scared, that I could do this. (I was so lying to myself) I held my head high and started to make my way through the lobby/waiting area towards the counter. Which was a Bad. Idea. Apparently, I shouldn’t have held my head so high, and instead should have watched where I was going. Maybe then I would have noticed the small, low table sitting beside a comfy looking black, leather couch. But I didn’t, so in the next instant, my shin caught the edge of the table, which unbalanced me, and I face planted into the floor. Ouch.

  Okay, so anyone who knows me knows that I am not graceful at all. That’s why they call me Grace. Well, not really…just when I fall. Which is, ironically, a lot, seeing as how I can barely stand steady on my own two feet, let alone walk straight! And that’s why I’m now laying face first in silent mortification in the middle of a tattoo parlor floor, listening to Allie shrieking my name, and what sounded like a herd of elephants running towards me.

  Strong hands grabbed me and started to turn me over and help me sit up. Allie, standing behind Stack (ohmigod! he’s touching me!) gasps and covers her mouth with her hand in shock.

  “Emma, you’re bleeding,” she whispers.

  I put my hand up to my face and gingerly started to poke around, trying to determine the origin of said blood. Stack grabbed my hand, pulling it quickly from my face. I looked up (and I mean UP! He‘s gotta be at least
six foot three!) at him in confusion.

  “Sugar, you busted your lip when you fell. C’mon, lets go back here and get you cleaned up.” Stack led me past the counter to the back area and into a spacious room that surprisingly reminded me of a cross between a dentist’s office and a hospital. The walls were a deep burgundy with black and white accents, and one whole wall was taken up by photos of what I assumed to be tattoos that he had done.

  As Stack moved about the room gathering things to doctor me with, Allie sat beside me on the dentist’s chair (what else would it be called?) and tried not to laugh. I shot her a glare, daring her to giggle, just once.

  At that moment, both Allie and I gaped at the doorway where another stack of deliciousness now stood. He looked like Stack, was built like Stack, with the same color hair and those intense smoky, blue-grey eyes, but while Stack’s hair was longish, this new Stack’s hair was closely cropped to his head, and he had a scruffy kind of five o’clock shadow going on.

  “Luke, there’s a client sheet up front on the counter for an Allison McCormick to get a tongue piercing done. But no Allison. Where’d she go?”

  Stack (Luke apparently?) grinned at New Stack and waved his hand at Allie. “That’s Allison, Brandon, and this,” looking over to me, “is Emma. Right?” I nodded. “Emma decided she was falling for me and busted her lip.” He smiled slyly and winked at me.

  Brandon looked over grinning and, noticing the blood on my lip said, “ Ouch! Damn, that sucks.” He then glanced over to Allie and asked her if she was ready. Allie nodded and started to get up off the chair.

  As she leaned past me, I whispered, “Close your mouth and wipe your chin. Geez, McCormick.” She shot me a dirty look and walked out with Brandon.

  It was then that it hit me. I was alone. With Stack. Er, Luke. I looked up as he moved close to me and lightly grasped my chin in his hand. God, his touch was electric…He put a cool moist cloth against my lip and dabbed at the blood still slowly welling from the shallow gash. I winced at the sting and sighed.

  “Um, thanks for helping me, and sorry…for that..this…” I waved my hand vaguely as I raised my eyes to his and watched as he slowly smiled.

  “No problem. It doesn’t look too bad, just split it a little bit. I’m Luke, by the way,” he said.

  “I’m Emma,” I replied.

  “Well, Emma, you ready to get inked?” Luke asked, then winked.

  I blushed and nodded my head slightly. He helped me up off the chair and we walked out to the counter again so I could look through the books. I had had an idea of what I might want, in the event that I was not able to talk Allie out of her “let’s tattoo Emma” idea, so I didn’t think I would even need to look at them.

  “I want just a few small stars,” I pointed behind my ear on my left side, “here. Nothing big, nothing fancy. But before I do this, I need to know how bad its going to hurt.” I was serious. I’ve never had a tattoo before and I am not fond of needles or pain in any shape or form. Except maybe a little pain in the bed…never mind. I digress.

  Luke smiled and nodded. “We really don’t need to even look in the books then. Here, give me a sec and I’ll draw something up real quick.” He reached behind him to grab a pad of drawing paper.

  As Luke started sketching out an idea for my tattoo, I heard Allie squeal somewhere in the back and then footsteps running towards me. I turned around in time to see her bounce to a stop in front of me, grinning from ear to ear. “Well?” I asked her, waiting for her to show me whatever body modification she’d decided on.

  She gingerly opened her mouth up and stuck her tongue out. Sure enough, there was a gleaming silver stud stuck in her tongue. She slowly pulled her tongue back in her mouth and smiled at me.

  “Did it hurt?” I asked her, nonchalantly, figuring that if that hurt really bad, then a tattoo is going to be worse, and it might be time for me to run screaming out the door.

  “Ehhh, it stung a little, but wasn’t too bad! So did you pick a tattoo yet? Cause we aren’t leaving here without you getting one.” Allie gave me that look, the stubborn one that I knew meant that she was going to get her way come hell or high water.

  “Yeah, yeah, Luke is drawing something up for me now,” I sighed

  Allie squealed again. “Yay! Cant wait to see it!” Then in a low tone she asked, “Wasn’t Brandon yummy? I wanted to have something other than his fingers in my mouth, if ya know what I mean…” She waggled her eyebrows like crazy.

  “My, God, Allie! You slut!” I gasped. I quickly turned around to make sure that Luke didn’t hear her, or my outburst. Seeing the smirk on his face as he studiously sketched on the pad made me sink onto a stool by the counter and put my head in my hands.

  Brandon came around the corner and smiled at Allie before asking me about my lip. I told him that it was fine, though it sounded a little muffled from the way I was hiding my face.

  “Luke, I’m headed down the street to grab some lunch. You got this?” Brandon asked.

  “Yeah, I’m good, thanks. Bring me back a sandwich or something, please.”

  “Sure thing. See you ladies later!” Brandon said as he walked out the door.

  Allie sighed wistfully and poked me in the shoulder. “Are you done hiding yet? I think Luke here is waiting for you.”

  I raised my head and saw that Luke was watching me with a half-smile on his lips. He picked up the pad and tossed it in front of me. Forgetting about my lip, I grinned. (Ouch, that hurt!) On the pad was a little cluster of five stars, all different sizes, but none more than a half inch in diameter.

  “That’s perfect, Luke! Thanks!” I looked up at him as he grabbed the pad back and started the process to print out the transfer sheet to put on my skin.

  As he worked, I looked over at Allie and gripped her hand. “You are not leaving me, right? You promise to hold my hand the whole time?” I was desperately squeezing her fingers together and she was trying frantically to pull them away.

  “Emma, let go! Of course I’m going to stay. I gotta see hot stuff over there do his thing!”

  I rolled my eyes at her and let go of her fingers. Luke cleared his throat behind us and I turned around sheepishly to meet his gaze.

  “Ready?,” he asked.

  “As I’ll ever be,” I mumbled.

  Looking back, that tattoo wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I managed not to mangle Allie’s hands too bad (she only screamed once) and it turned out seriously cute and sexy sitting there behind my ear. Not to mention, having Luke bent over me as he worked, even though he was plying needles in my tender flesh, was rather erotic. When everything was all finished, I hopped up off the chair (table?) and thanked Luke profusely.

  After giving us both our after care instructions, we walked out to the front to pay and say goodbye. Surprisingly, I found myself slightly saddened by the thought that I wouldn’t be seeing Luke again any time soon. Turned out, I was wrong.

  Chapter 2

  I rolled over in bed and reached blindly for my ringing cell phone charging on the nightstand beside my bed. As I grabbed it, I got a look at the clock and realized that its almost midnight. At that point, two things strike me. One, who the hell is calling me this late? And two, My God, I’m pathetic. I think I’m the oldest 29 year old in America since it’s a Saturday night and I’ve been in bed since 9:30. Shaking my head at myself, I hit the answer key on the screen, wincing as I pressed it too hard against my ear, and in turn, my tattoo. Ouchie.

  “Emma?” The frantic voice of my sister whispered harshly into my ear.

  “Jenna? What the hell is going on? Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Um, well, can you come over and sit here with the kids? I need you to get here, like, yesterday. And don’t park in the driveway! Can you park on the street and maybe, I don’t know, sneak over the fence and through the back door?”

  Oh, Lord. Why did I answer my phone? Knowing better than to even ask for an explanation, I replied, “Yeah, Jenna. I’ll be there in ten. And I
will try to shimmy my big ass over the fence and through your back door. But you owe me for thi-”

  Jenna cut me off with a breathy, “Okay-thanks-get-here-bye,” and hung up on me.

  Geez. You wouldn’t think that Jenna was the oldest of us kids, but she is. She really is an intelligent, calm, cool and collected woman, but sometimes…I worry about her. Jenna is my oldest sibling at 33 years old. She’s married to Noah Michaels, and has been since she was 22 and he was 23. Whirlwind romance, picture book wedding, and three years later, out pops my bouncing baby nephew, Jarrod Allen. Fast forward four more years and add a pinch of surprise! and here we have my now four year old niece, Hayden Michele.

  Jenna looks like Barbie’s best friend. You know, the brunette one that’s just as pretty as Barbie but has dark hair? Sad thing is, no one can ever remember her name, so you know she had to be extremely jealous of Barbie. (I mean, come on, who wouldn’t be, though? That little bitch has everything!) Jenna is shorter than me at five foot four, which is not a really big difference, considering I’m only five foot six. Okay, so its actually five foot five and a half, but that really doesn’t matter, right? She’s also built like a brick shithouse (we’ve discussed this term before), but seeing as how she looks like Barbie’s friend, that would be obvious. Like me, she’s got the jade green eyes of our mother, and the dark hair of our father. Currently, hers hangs somewhere around her shoulders, whenever she takes it out of the messy topknot that is usually sitting haphazardly on top of her head. Mine is now reaching the middle of my back in long, thick dark brown waves, which sounds gorgeous. Truth be told? Its not really. Especially if its rainy or humid or you live in Ohio. Which I do. Hello frizzies!

  The big difference? She’s tiny and I’m a size twelve. On a good day, that is. On bad days, like bloated period days, or days when I’ve decided that chocolate is calling my name nonstop, which, let’s face it, is most days, then I’m more of a fourteen. Not that I’m fat, but since the images that society forces down our throats these days tell us that if you aren’t built like a stick with boobs (bee sting size), then you are not skinny, but I am a healthy kind of curvy. I’ve always said that I was just born in the wrong century, cause back then? I would have been the shit!