CHAPTER 6

WORKING AT A TATTOO SHOP had made for an interesting week, and certainly more fulfilling than any Gigi had ever spent in cubical hell. The tattooed hunks she worked with treated her with more respect than the stuffy professionals strangled to death by ridiculous neckties. She’d long held the theory a necktie kept the blood flow restricted to their dicks instead of their actual brains.

Of the five artists working here, not one of them had even attempted a pass at her or gotten flirty—including Roman after she shot down his request for a date. It was as if some kind of professional switch had flipped. After that beautiful drawing he’d given her, and the mixed signals of his on again and now off again flirting, they currently stood on radio silence. It had her all mixed up. Sure, she asked for the end of their mutual flirtation, but she missed it.

Gigi spun around in her office chair, pulling her long sweater closed as she crossed her arms over her chest. Roman sat with one leg tucked beneath him. His ever-present white tee hung half tucked into dark washed jeans, cuffed at the ankle. She even liked his boots with their ridiculous red laces. The supple leather appeared worn and the color was mottled and weather-beaten. It reminded her of the golden brown char of a toasted marshmallow if you didn’t burn it to black. Of course that brought to mind campfires and being curled up in front of one.

To be clear, she was not the kind of girl who went camping. However, she could do a cabin and a bearskin rug for the right man. She was nearly convinced that this rugged and sexy object of her temptation was the right kind of man for just that. He cleared his throat and her gaze shot up to meet his as he glanced up from the girl who lay prone in front of him. Their eyes met and he smiled before returning to the girl’s tramp stamp.

Gigi studied his dark hair, messy from when he’d been jamming his fingers in it earlier while he’d been drawing up the tattoo design he was laying down now. She imagined he’d be similarly mussed after a tumble in her bed. As she pictured it, the thick black frames of his glasses slid down his nose. Something else she never thought she would find sexy. She’d learned that he needed them when he was drawing or tattooing a client. His dark eyes sparked with interest over the top rim of the frames as he alternated between his work and watching her.

The corners of his lips quirked up, leaving her practically panting to kiss that damn dimple and feel the scruff of the day’s stubble against her soft skin. She licked her lips and his smile spread. She’d been busted.

It was utterly inconceivable that she should be sitting here fantasizing about her boss that practically oozed hot and nerdy instead of doing something about it—or more to the point—doing him. She could lie and blame her self-imposed dry spell for wanting Roman this bad, but she’d want him even if she’d been serviced by one of her gentleman friends on her lunch break. She needed to lose Chad in a bad way before she did something reckless and stupid to jeopardize this job.

“You want to take a look?” Roman lifted the tattoo gun and wiped his work clean. “I’m assuming that’s what you’re so curious about.”

Not really, but then she’d have to admit she was checking him out and not his art. She plastered on a pleasant smile and nodded as she uncoiled herself from her seat. Moving around behind him, Gigi swept the bulky weight of her dark hair off to one side to prevent it from touching the client or him as she leaned over his shoulder to look.

The girl’s denim and her white lace thong had been pushed down just far enough to reveal the upper half of her bare ass, making Gigi’s cheeks heat with jealousy. Even if she did take exception to the cliché placement and the way he’d had to become intimately acquainted with his client’s anatomy to complete it, the work itself was exceptional.

An intricate crown and script that read “royal” in bold letters served as the centerpiece but it fanned out on each side like crystal strands of a chandelier. It flowed with the curve of the client’s ass, dipping down low.

“It’s beautiful.” Gigi hadn’t considered that a tattoo could look so delicate. She actually had to stop herself from the urge to trace the fine lines with her finger. “It looks like jewelry.”

Roman’s smile broadened at the awe in her voice.

The client squealed happily. “I am so excited to see it now.”

“Does it hurt?” Girls like Gigi—or rather the kind of girl she pretended to be—didn’t get ink, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be curious.

The client peered over her shoulder at Gigi. “Sometimes, but mostly I just zone out to the buzz of the needle and after a while it just feels numb, like someone left a vibrator on my skin for too long.”

“You thinking of going under the needle, beautiful?” Roman’s soft words spoken in a low gravel tone, just for her ears, felt like a caress in places meant to be touched in private.

Her own answer came out breathy to match. “No, but if I did I would love that chandelier look.”

Gigi stepped back, returning to her post at the counter and his attention returned to the woman spread out before him. Something pretty from his hands would be nice—a secret just for her—a peep show into the woman that lay beneath the public persona. She found the thought appealing. She imagined being naked under his hands while he left a permanent mark on her body in the form of art, the pain being soothed away under his touch. Would he kiss her and make it better? The wicked thought—low level though it was—made her smile and she filed it for later fantasy consideration.

The heat and soft pressure of Roman’s hand pressing between her shoulder blades woke her from the haze of her own imagination before his voice registered. “Have a nice night, Dolly. Stop back if you have any problems.” He looked down at Gigi as the door closed softly. “Looks like it’s just you and me again tonight. What’s that make—third time this week that you and I were the last two here?”

Gigi hadn’t meant to stay so late but she also couldn’t stand to leave him alone with that pretty blonde client and her beautiful tramp stamp. Pot, kettle, black—don’t care. “I was hoping to show you your new website. I didn’t want to interrupt you with your clients just for that.” That sounded like a reasonable enough excuse. Bonus points for not painting herself as a jealous shrew.

He quirked an eyebrow up as if to say he wasn’t fooled but she tilted her chin up defiantly. His answer made her wish she hadn’t opened her mouth. “Show and tell could be fun.”

She swallowed hard as she pictured his eyes on her while they took turns in a slow strip tease. That sounded so much more fun than a graphic design reveal. A wistful sigh escaped her lips before she could push it back down where it belonged. And from the grin that was quickly spreading across his lips, he heard it. Maybe that flirty switch could be turned back on after all.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest mimicking her own closed off posture. On him, with the colorful ink on his skin and the slight bulge of his flexed muscles, it was sinfully hot, making her flushed as she once again suppressed urges that were off limits for this man.

Roman know it wasn’t fair to tease her. In fact, he’d been a perfect gentleman all week, but it was wearing him down. The way she fucked him with her eyes nearly had him on his knees begging to taste her. He suppressed a groan at the thought.

When she walked in this morning wearing another pink tunic over skintight leggings, he’d become painfully aware of her. If she hadn’t covered her foxy little self in that chunky white sweater, he might have had to kick the boys from the shop because he wasn’t sure his jealousy could handle it. She wet her full lips painted the same shade of pink as her top and his eyes were instantly locked in. He wanted his hands buried in the tumbling mahogany waves of her hair as he took those lips, claiming them with his own. Hard or soft didn’t matter to him. But it was gonna be more than that teasing taste from the week before when he’d left her at the door like the gentleman his mother had raised him to be. He wasn’t feeling like a gentleman tonight.

He pushed off the counter and walked to the window. He turned off the neon sign and then moved to the door, softly turning the lock. She watched him with rabid interest as he moved back to her. He could see her calculating each action, as color flooded her cheeks.

“If I were to lay ink on your body, where would you want my mark?” He’d caught her paying special attention to the tattoos that the shop’s female clientele came for, measuring each woman as a threat—or not—and then reconciling the woman with whatever design she chose. She wanted it. She just had to warm to the idea and if he had anything to say about it, she’d be getting her art from him only. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man’s hands on her naked flesh.

“Someplace hidden—just for me. I saw a picture on Pinterest of a woman that had it underneath her breasts. I thought that was pretty.” She looked up at him though her dark lashes.

He leaned against the counter beside her again. His legs crossed at the ankle while he let his mind drift to the kind of image he’d create for her. Soft pink roses came to mind first but she’d said she liked the jeweled look of Dolly’s art. He would enjoy letting his mind spin on that for a while.

“That would be fitting on you.” His voice came out a little rough with the lust that was riding him hard. He had to remember why he couldn’t touch her. He needed a reminder right fucking now.

She cleared her throat and pointed at the computer monitor. “I’ve got the web page. Do you want to navigate it or do you want me to flip through the pages for you quickly?”

Blessed reality saved his dick just in time. His girl was all business because she didn’t do relationships. That’s what she’d said while talking to Ann right after he’d given Gigi that pinup art. That’s why he couldn’t have her. He forced an affable smile, dialing back the smolder with a little more ease now.

A copper metallic header came up on the screen for Ink Spinners Tattoo & Gallery. The background was a collage of black and gray photos of the inside of the shop, proudly displaying the collection of gears and antique medical oddities that he and Declan obsessively curated over a lifetime. A box told the viewer about the idea behind the shop and a schedule of events. The next tab she went to was for the gallery. The skull made of layered gears had been featured front and center. The header declared the gallery’s opening night on the following Saturday.

The next six pages were for each artist. The background for each created from a different black and white sketch provided by the featured artist. It contained a color image of the artist, a bio and two links. The first link took you to the artist’s portfolio. The other link took you to a scheduling page, complete with a form so the artist would have a heads up on what to expect.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that on Roman’s page she hadn’t used the sketch he’d given her, but he let that go. He didn’t really want it on display anyway. It had been something intimate for the two of them and he’d only given it to her in an irrational need to offer her a glimpse into what he wanted with her—a glimpse she hadn’t mentioned once.

“You really did a great job capturing the feel of this shop and each artist, Gigi.”

She beamed with pride at his praise. That satisfied smile had him wanting her all over again. Would one more taste of her be so bad? If he took the leap and she didn’t stop him he wasn’t sure where it would end or if he wanted it to. If she would just give him some sign that he wouldn’t be crossing a line this would all be so much simpler.

“I’ve got some ideas for the setup for next Saturday I’d like to show you as long as you have more time,” Gigi said as she rose from her seat. She walked backwards towards the gallery, her eyes locked with Roman’s, pulling him along after her like he was caught in a tractor beam. “This gallery opening is already pulling big numbers on the Facebook event post I set up.”

His voice dropped to a suggestive growl. “I’ll make as much time as you need.”

Her business smile turned sultry, telling him she’d picked up on his double meaning. This was the side of Gigi he liked—the vixen who was sure of her own needs—not that prim businesswoman who tried to play innocent. He felt that look burn through his blood as it all rushed into his erection. Her smile cranked up another notch. Yeah—she noticed. He couldn’t imagine much carnal knowledge getting past her.

“I think we need a bar. Not a huge selection. Maybe just two choices. Something geared more towards the ladies and something more towards the men. Definitely classic in keeping with the place.”

“Rosé for the ladies and whiskey for the men.” And yes, the Rosé was because it reminded him of her. He was already pathetic.

“That’s going to get a little pricey,” she said in a low teasing voice. She stopped in a dark corner of the gallery where an antique chaise lounge had been pushed up against the wall. “I think this would be the perfect place to set the bar up. Do you know anyone who could be our bartender? We can’t charge for the alcohol unless we want to get a liquor license for the event or hire a caterer that has one.”

“You’ve been doing your homework.”

She lowered herself onto the chaise, and perched on the edge with her hands gripping her knees. “You never asked, but I double majored in art history and business. Pissed my parents right off. When Ann sent me here, she knew the gallery side of this would be too good for me to pass up.”

“You love art.” Learning pieces of her like this made him want her so much more. She was right, if he had read her resume or asked a single question that first day, he might have already known. “I feel like I missed an opportunity to learn so much about you. Do over on the interview?”

Gigi laughed. “That ship has sailed. You’re going to have to get it the hard way now.”

“Dinner?” He moved closer to her, mesmerized by her soft smile and the way her hair moved in the dim light as she shook her head.

“You’re the boss now, Roman. I think dinner might be against the rules. Don’t you?”

He shouldn’t be surprised that she’d feed him the same argument—but still the tension between them had made him hope.

“Not my rules.” He prowled towards her, until she had to crane her neck back to look at him. “Couldn’t you quit for the night? I’ll rehire you tomorrow.”

Her sudden laughter held an intoxicating glimmer of her as she tossed her head back and abandoned herself to whatever joy she’d found in his silly declaration. In that unreserved reaction, he could see moments of a future that right now stood only as a tempting mirage. Images of shared secrets and jokes under the covers on a lazy Sunday morning, or tickling as he chased her through the halls of a museum where they should behave. The tantalizing image of what a real life could be with her beyond the shop, beyond the epic sex he knew they could have, rocked him—and hardened his resolve to keep trying.

Without meaning to or thinking about it, his gruff hands cradled her face, thumbs tracing her full bottom lip as her laughter stilled. Her tongue darted out and grazed his thumb. His emotions were all over the place. He’d gone from intense need to professional distance and back to need again. If he was being honest, when he was with her the need always hovered just under the surface of all their interactions.

This could go so wrong—the errant thought made him hesitate. He needed her to cross the last hurdle. He wanted her but just as she said, he was still her boss and her best friend’s brother—not that any of it bothered him or would stop him. If it mattered to her, then she needed to be the one to decide. For the sake of his own heart that had been smashed when he once thought he had everything, he needed to know she was all in with him.

He handed her the control and when her eyes widened he knew that she knew. He felt her little fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans and she used it to pull him down on his knees between her spread thighs. For the most painfully slow moment of his life, she stared back at him, waiting or testing. He had no idea which. As long as she kissed him, he didn’t really give a fuck.

“Screw it. I’m going down happy.” The words were a groan and there was no time to process what she meant because her lips were on his and he had his green light.

She tasted like the cherry cola she’d been sipping on all day. It was his new favorite soda because on her it was fucking amazing. This was not the soft and sweet taste they’d had before. The longing burning in his gut since that night drove him to claim her mouth with bruising force. When she opened up to groan her approval, he let his tongue delve deep. She met him, stroking his questing tongue with her own—and damn if that didn’t crank him up more.

As if that wasn’t enough, her hands were making him crazy. She’d run her sly little fingers up the inside of his shirt and alternated between teasing light touches and grazing his ribs and back. With a gasp, he pulled back for air and a little sanity. She whimpered as they parted and that little sound jacked him up—just like everything else about her.

“Roman—please don’t stop.”

Had kissing ever been this hot—had anything? They weren’t even into the heavy petting yet. If she was game, it was time that changed. He ran wet, teasing kisses along her jaw, and worked his way down to her neck.

“Not yet, beautiful,” he promised between kisses that he wished would brand both her skin and soul as his. “I’m only stopping if you want me to.”

She moved her hands to his face, drawing him back to her welcoming and now kiss-swollen lips.

Roman moved his hands up the outside of her spread thighs, stroking the soft material of her leggings. He continued moving his hands north to her hips and up the soft plain of her stomach. When his thumbs grazed the lace of her bra through the material of her shirt, he stopped his progress. She was having none of that. Arching into his hand, she moaned her approval as he palmed one breast and then the other, slowing the frantic pace they’d started.

Every one of her lush curves felt like perfection in his hands, making his cock ache for more. If he wanted this to be more than just tonight, he was going to have to walk a fine line. He needed to find the sweet spot between a fling with the boss that she’d regret and craving another touch. She was such a wild card and he didn’t like games—just her.

Roman pulled back from their kiss, resting his forehead on hers. “I don’t want to rush this. You’re worth more than that, but damn if I’m not hungry.”

“Just a little more then.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper, reflecting the longing that raged inside of him. “Please, just a little more.”

He stared into the green fire of her pleading eyes. It reminded him of absinthe in a crystal glass through the filter of candlelight. Specific as that was, he’d had that thought ever since the moment he first looked into her penetrating gaze. Their ability to intoxicate him exceeded the power of the green fairy. He knew he should stop right here, but if she wanted more, did he really have the will power to deny her anything?

Gigi gripped his white shirt. She turned on the chaise, reclining back and pulling him with her so that he lay pressed against her, cradled between her open thighs. He braced one hand on the seat to keep his full weight from crushing her. Then she rocked her hips up, the heat of her sex scorching his hard cock through all their fabric barriers. This hitch in her breath as she rubbed herself against him, working herself over—just damn. He simply didn’t have the words for the answering fire it drove in him, but if she was going to cum it wasn’t going to be from dry humping. He wanted to control that release. Needed to be the reason she found her pleasure—not just a tool she used to get off.

“I want to touch you, beautiful.” He was asking a lot considering they’d only just opened the flood gates with their first real kiss, but she was a woman in firm control of her sexuality. If anyone could handle his request, it was Gigi. Her demanding little hips were practically begging him for it now.

Her lips spread into a soft yet teasing smile. “Yes, please.”

Roman took her mouth; this time he took her slow and deep. There was no need for the frantic rush between them right now. He shifted his weight out to the side, leaving the cradle of her thighs. His right hand began the teasing glide down her body. He let it trail downward across still covered breasts and her soft tummy with a feathery touch.

She raised her hips and with one hand attacked the leggings that stood as a barrier between his touch and her body. He smiled against her lips as she struggled and kicked the fabric between them until she was free.

When he lifted his lips from hers and looked down the length of her body, his satisfied smile spread. She had kicked her flats to the floor and her leggings lay in a heap on top of them. She was beautiful from her pink polished toes up the curve of her calves and thighs, to the white lace panties still hiding her sex. Her right leg bent up at the knee, pressed against him as he lay with his back to the wall. Her other leg dangled over the edge of the chaise.

He slipped his hand inside her panties, cupping her hot sex. Gigi bucked against his hand and moaned as he inserted one long finger, stroking slowly to spread her silky wetness.

“Is this where you want me?”

She tightened around his finger, answering with her body. When she relaxed again, he added a second, pumping slow and easy. He pulled out of her and stroked upward, pressing flat against her swollen clit. He rubbed the engorged bundle of nerves in lazy circles before moving down again to slip back inside her. He alternated back and forth like this, picking up the pace slightly with each pass until he found a rhythm that had her moaning and bucking beneath his hand.

“Roman.” He loved his name on her lips. Her voice was whining, pleading with him to finish her without actually saying the words.

“I’ve got you, beautiful. Just a little bit more.”

He curled the two fingers pumping inside of her up, to find that spot, the internal nerve center that would drive her pleasure higher. He knew when he’d found it because her sex clamped down around him, demanding him not to move. When he began working her clit with the pad of his thumb, she came undone.

The nails of her right hand dug into his shoulder where she gripped him as her hips bucked and her sex pulsed around his fingers. She bit down on her plump pink lip, holding herself back as she groaned loudly. Watching her cum was the most beautiful art he’d ever made. Damn if he didn’t want to do it all again, until she didn’t hold herself back, until she screamed her pleasure as uninhibited as her earlier laughter had been.

Not tonight.

As the pulses slowed, the tension in her body bled out and she went limp under his touch. Gently he pulled his fingers from her soft folds and her now ruined panties.

“Now can I take you to dinner?”

Gigi’s laughter was immediate and without reserve. “Yes, Roman. After the way you played me, you can have anything you want. Better hurry up and take advantage.”

“Dinner’s enough for now.”