CHAPTER 12

ROMAN SHUT THE BATHROOM LIGHT off and padded back to her bedroom. Leaning against the doorframe, he watched Gigi. His gaze drifted down the perfect arch of her body as she raised her arms over her head in a languid stretch. It reminded him of a satisfied cat basking in the sun, or in her case, afterglow. He’d put that sated smile on her face.

She rolled over to face him. “When you stare at me like that, it’s like you’re drawing me in your head or drawing on me. I’m not sure which.”

Crossing the room to her, he slid into bed and pulled her into his side “Don’t tempt me, beautiful. Your body is the canvas of my dreams.”

Gigi turned to look up at him, resting one hand over his heart. How was he supposed to play it cool when she looked at him like that? If the look of shock on her face when he’d called her his girlfriend was any indication, she wasn’t ready to talk feelings. Letting the L-word slip during sex was enough of a fuck up for one day. Impending pleasure had a way of loosening a man’s lips.

No—he had a plan to ease her into this nice and slow. He needed to get back on track.

She traced an invisible pattern across his chest as she watched him. “When you were growing up, did you ever take turns with your friends drawing on each other with a pen?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Roman smiled at the memory. “But I actually started with my dad. He worked the night shift opposite my stepmom. He’d lay down on the sofa and ask me if I wanted to give him a tattoo. I’d get out all my pens and markers to draw on him while he took a nap right there.”

Things had been hard after Roman lost his mother, but his father and Ann’s mother had always worked hard to make sure they wanted for nothing, including quality time. When Roman turned sixteen and started running wild, his father had been the one to buy him Inked Magazine. It convinced him that his art skills really could pay the bills and give him some direction, other than booze. His old man had one mission—neither of his kids were ever working in a factory. Mission accomplished.

“My girlfriends and I used to doodle on each other during recess. I always had to hide it from my mother and father.” Her words were wistful, but laced with an underlying sadness.

From the photos he’d glimpsed in her living room last night, he’d assumed her childhood had been a comfortable one; not necessarily a happy one. Her drinking over her father last night and her tone now hinted heavily at that. After all, comfort didn’t always equal easy or happy. As much as he may be tempted to go there and find out more about what drove her to dive into that bottle, he wasn’t ready to leave this blissful state of afterglow.

Gigi glanced up at him and resumed her explanation. “Anyway—it wasn’t fancy art like I’m sure you managed on your Dad. Ours were just silly doodles of hearts and flowers. Sometimes the name of the boy we liked.”

Roman nudged Gigi’s shoulder, encouraging her to sit up. One delicate eyebrow arched up in an unspoken question as she complied.

“Hold that thought,” he urged her as he leaned over the edge of the bed to swipe his jeans off the floor and dig in the pocket. Finding what he needed, he dropped the clothing on the floor and turned, holding up his marker. “Can I draw on you?”

“You seriously carry a marker in your pocket?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

She laughed at his answer and he knew she was in before she started shimmying down the bed to lay out flat for him.

“My body is all yours.”

The innuendo dripping from her words had his cock stirring to life all over again. “Keep it up, Gigi, and we’re gonna be doing something else.”

She licked her lips; eyes locked on his growing erection and grinned. “Promises, promises.”

Roman stared at her, mesmerized. How did she do that to him—take a sweet moment and turn it into a sexually charged need.

Gigi sat up on her elbows. “I thought you were going to give me a Roman Bishop original?” Her expression turned pouty. “Art now—play later.”

He shook his head clear of the building fog of lust. “Yes, ma’am.”

Running the plastic cap down over her curves, he considered the possibilities. She shivered, but otherwise kept still. She’d mentioned she would like something under her breasts. With his current state of arousal that wasn’t a good place to start if he wanted to get through this. If it were permanent, where would he want to mark her? Somewhere she could feel comfortable showing if asked, but also hidden if she dressed up, would suit her best.

When his capped marker reached the curve of her hip, he stopped. The spot was slightly sexual, but not overtly so and fit all his other criteria. Besides, she’d be able to watch him work as he drew. He lifted her knees and draped her legs over his outstretched one. His other knee bent up as he settled into a comfortable position to work.

Roman popped the top off the ultra-fine magenta Sharpie. Yeah, he bought a pink permanent marker. When he’d needed one, the stupid color made him smile. It served as just another reminder of how deeply wrapped up in her he truly felt.

As the felt tip slid across her skin, he had to wonder if her feelings were as twisted up in him. There were moments when he thought so. Since they began, but especially today, the mask she seemed perpetually inclined to wear slipped. It gave him the glimpse he needed to keep moving towards her—to keep loving her. She opened to him readily enough when things got physical, not so much when conversation turned to feelings or where this relationship might lead. If she wasn’t ready to hear him declare his feelings, he’d draw his heart on her skin and show her.

Gigi didn’t speak as he worked, but he felt the weight of her gaze. When he recapped the pen and sat up straight, she sat up, leaning her weight back on her braced hands so that she could get a better look.

He’d drawn a heart symbolic of both of them, like a heart carved into a tree with the initials of two lovers. Instead of their names he’d used things symbolic of who they both were separately, making a more beautiful whole when joined together. On the left half, he’d drawn layered gears like the ones in the shop’s skull logo. On her half, he’d drawn a lace pattern, intricate and sexy, the way he saw her. Along the heart’s right edge, swags of jewels hung like crystal drops from a chandelier.

“It’s beautiful, Roman.” She circled the design, not quite touching the impromptu art with her manicured fingernail.

“Just promise me that if you get one for real, you let me do it.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and looked away from her. “I don’t want anyone else laying a permanent mark on you. I want that privilege for myself.”

“Let’s do it right now. No one is at the shop.” Gigi pulled away from Roman to sit up on her knees. “I want to keep this forever.”

The marker art on her skin may have started as a playful way to tease one another and enjoy the afterglow of their physical connection, but if she was honest with herself, this was so much more. The thought that it would wash off her skin made her sick. No, she needed to make this last forever.

“If you like it so much, I can draw it on paper for you to add to your art collection.”

“No—not permanent enough.”

She moved off the bed and headed for her dresser. She pulled a pair of panties and bra from the drawer, then bent to slide them up her legs. She was halfway through putting on a clean bra when she turned back to find Roman still sitting in the middle of her bed, watching her.

“Get dressed. I’m serious. I want this,” she said as she finished with the front clasp. “Why aren’t you moving?”

Roman slid across the bed and grabbed his jeans off the floor. “This isn’t something you can take back, Gigi. You have to be sure. I don’t want any regrets later.”

How could she explain this to him? True, she had no tattoos. Before working at the shop, she would have told him that she wasn’t that kind of girl. She learned quickly there was no type. The only requirement was that you had to love art. Those who truly knew her down to her core—and they were few in number—would tell you art was her passion. If there was one thing she appreciated, it was art and the emotions it invoked. This hand-drawn heart undeniably summoned something from her, a sentiment she needed to preserve. More than that, it was about commemorating the first man to ever break through her wall, to make her want to do more than play at arm’s length and then run away.

What Roman didn’t need to know was that any other man would have been kicked from her bed ten seconds after he’d finished unless she thought she might get a round two out of him. Even then, she still might have kicked him on principle. Roman had been the first man she’d ever—cuddled. He held her and she let him. She joked with him, shared a story with him, and did something playful. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she’d fallen pussy first into a relationship.

Gigi turned to the full-length mirror on the wall, apprising the dark pink ink on her skin. A soft smile played on her lips. “I’d regret it more if I didn’t get it.”

She caught his reflection in the mirror, standing behind her seconds before he gripped her chin and turned her to face towards him, his amber eyes searched hers. Then, bending down to close the distance between them, he grazed her lips with his. The kiss was tender and reverent—a subtle reminder of the night she’d baited him to taste her.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Let’s go get you inked for real.”

They dressed in companionable silence. Her in yoga pants, a pink tank and a soft sweater. Him in last night’s clothes, minus the bow tie and suspenders.

Gigi grabbed her purse off the kitchen island and Roman retrieved her keys. She raised an eyebrow at him with her hand held out.

He dropped them into her palm. “What? How do you think you got home? I couldn’t put you on the back of my bike.”

“Believe me I’m grateful and sorry that you had to take care of me like that.”

“Don’t mention it.” Roman wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in for a quick kiss. When he pulled back, a satisfied grin stretched across his handsome face. “I like taking care of you.”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Let’s go.”

Keeping her head down, she walked out the door and out of Roman’s embrace. He followed a few steps behind. So far, he wasn’t pushing about last night and why she’d blown up their plans in favor of self-medicating with wine. Sure, he’d mentioned it, but he hadn’t pushed—yet. How long could that possibly last? She climbed into her tiny car and the passenger door echoed in the small space beside her. By the time she finished backing out of her parking space, she’d made up her mind. It was better to bring this up on her terms and now was her best opportunity. Right now, she could control.

Gigi took a deep calming breath before jumping off the proverbial cliff. “So about last night…”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No—you deserve an explanation. We had plans and I blew them off because of my family’s melodrama.” There was no easy way to say this so she dropped it like the bomb that it really was. “My dad cheats on my mom and he was at the gallery event last night with his whore.”

Gigi glanced sideways at him before returning her eyes to the road. He was watching her as if she was about to jump out of the moving vehicle that she was driving.

“You say it like you’ve known about it.” His tone was laced with concern and a smattering of confusion.

Gigi lifted her shoulders and dropped them back down. “It’s not the first time I’ve caught him, but it is the first time I’ve seen him take one of his mistresses out in public. I never expected him to be so blatant. He probably thought it was safe that no one would be there that he knew. Only I was. He doesn’t know I work for you.”

She chanced another glance. This time, something she said had put a scowl on his face. “Are you ashamed of working for me?”

“No.” The denial left her lips before she even had time to process it. When she took the position at his shop that would not have been her answer. Now if anyone other than her parents asked she wouldn’t hesitate. “John Duval has a clear vision for what is appropriate for his daughter. No matter what I want—a gallery at a tattoo shop isn’t it. I hide many things but this I’m not hiding from anyone. Omission is not hiding.”

Silence hung thick between them and she let it. She focused on the streets that would be vacant until church let out in another hour. The wholesome stillness stood as a direct counter to the turbulence beating against her insides. Long minutes passed until she pulled into the parking space beside the Indian motorcycle he’d left overnight so that he could take care of her drunk ass. The thought had her cheeks flaming with shame again.

Gigi turned towards Roman. She refused to let this conversation sour an otherwise beautiful day with him. Add that to the list of today’s surprises, but here she was, and so far, her only regrets had nothing to do with him.

“My family isn’t like most families, Roman. My father cares more about his image than us. My mother and I are just accessories to him that need to be perfect.”

“I don’t fit the mold—the kind of man you bring home to Mom and Dad. You gonna hide me?” Bitterness dripped from his words.

This question was baggage that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with those who came before—or maybe just one. It would take a special kind of cold bitch to throw away his love. Trouble was, Gigi had been that kind of woman. No, she wasn’t. She was something else—something just as bad. At least the men who came to her bed knew what they were getting from her and more importantly, what they weren’t.

Gigi might hide from the judgment of others but she was at least honest.

She hoped that honesty showed as she turned in her seat fully to face him. “Never. You’re too important to hide.”

Holding her breath, Roman’s amber eyes held her still, as if they somehow hypnotized her into this perfect stillness as she waited for fear to win. He reached up and traced her brow with the pad of his thumb, down the line of her cheek. He buried his fingers in the loose waves of her hair. His thumb continued to stroke her cheek.

“No hiding for either one of us—promise me.” His words were a challenge.

Could she rise to meet it?

She didn’t want to be the next woman to let him down. It was scary to consider bringing so much of herself into the light for one person. She’d sat in his lap, naked, handing her body over to him. That hadn’t made her pause. This was different. He was asking her to be emotionally naked and not just for him but with him.

“I promise.” The words tumbled from her lips, small, but honest. With him, they didn’t burn as a certain other promise had.

He used his hand in her hair to pull her in, sealing her promise with a kiss that burned away any lingering doubt. They were in this together now. She was in deep. He was marking her soul in ways just as enduring as the ink he was going to be laying in her skin.

Roman pulled back from their kiss. “One taste of you and I forget where I am.” A cocksure grin split his scruffy five o’clock shadow. “Get your fine ass in my shop because there is not enough room in this car for the things I want to do to you.”