Skin Tight (Skin Deep #4) Read online

  I braced myself and headed into the war zone, leaving Ian behind, talking with Jacks. As soon as I stepped foot in the kitchen, I saw Luke standing against the wall, holding Everly, both of them wide-eyed but grinning. I smiled and said hello as I sat the strawberries down on the counter.

  “I see I didn’t miss the fireworks,” I quipped, winking at my brother-in-law.

  “Nope,” he replied, drolly.

  “How long has this been going on?” I asked him, moving across the kitchen to peek outside, but not seeing either of the crazies.

  “Oh, you know. Since Grady decided to show Doug and DJ that the pool is a great toy and then break down the screen door to let them all run wild and wet through Allie’s house last week. And again today.”

  “Yeah, but they have a gate, so how’re Doug and DJ getting into the pool area?” I asked Luke, moving back across the kitchen to take my niece from him.

  I kissed her cheeks and cuddled her as Luke replied, “Grady has figured out how to knock the latch just right with his nose, so he swings it open and leaves it wide so his friends can come through. Pretty smart if you ask me…but it’s not my house they’re trashing.”

  I winced, pulling air through my teeth as I thought about three large dogs, each roughly a hundred pounds plus, running wet through my nice, well kept house. I’d probably kill them…which is, I’m guessing, what Allie was wanting to do right about then.

  Jackson and Ian came into the kitchen, Ian now holding Liam, just as Allie and Emma came back inside, each still glowering at the other.

  “Aww, fight nice, kids,” I called out to them, grinning mischievously and then laughing as they both transferred their glares to me.

  Emma’s broke first, but that had more to do with the fact that I was holding her daughter, whose face had lit up when her mom had walked into the room.

  Emma crossed the kitchen and reached for her daughter, just as Everly yelled out, “Mama!” in her sweet little voice, thus breaking the tension in the room.

  I looked over at Allie but she just shook her head at me and moved to take her son from his father. Jackson left the room briefly, coming back with a stack of towels, and then he and Luke went off to clean up the mess. They’re pretty good husbands, eh?

  As they left the room, Allie walked over by Emma, both of them holding their kids, and we watched in amusement as Emma leaned her head on Allie’s shoulder and whispered, “I still love you and I’m sorry my dogs are jerks.”

  Allie leaned her head against Emma’s and whispered back, “I still love you, too. And I’m used to it. After all, Grady gets it honestly-he is definitely his father’s son.”

  Emma nodded and whispered back, “Damn dogs.”

  Everyone else started arriving then, and it was a whirlwind to get things set up, but it didn’t take long before everyone was seated wherever they could find a place, eating food, and enjoying the sunshine and company.

  Ian was sitting on the lounger beside me, his plate heaped high with food. I was sharing a lounger with my now 6 year old niece, Hayden, who was telling me, so very kindly as I ate, about her baby brother’s latest diaper blow-out.

  “Auntie Leah, it was everywhere! Like, Mommy had to change the bed and his clothes and her clothes and it was all down his legs and…”

  “Alright, kiddo, I think Auntie Leah and Uncle Ian have heard enough about that,” Jenna called from the porch. “Come on up here and get something to eat.”

  “But, Mom, I already ate-” Hayden started to whine, but Jenna cut her off quickly with a stern look.

  “Uh-oh, better go on, Hayden-girl. Your momma’s got that Mother-stink-eye look going,” Calland called out, laughing, winking at Hayden as she grinned his way and nodded.

  “Calland!” Jenna yelled exasperatedly. “Can you ever just keep your mouth shut and not teach my children bad habits?”

  “Nope!” he replied sweetly, then gave an exaggerated wince as our mother smacked his shoulder when she walked by.

  I just shook my head and looked over at Ian, who was, as usual, silently laughing through the whole exchange, and then continued eating.

  I’d finished eating when a gravelly old voice broke in loudly and looked up to see Allie’s grandma, Nanny, standing beside Ian.

  “You gonna let an old woman just stand here, stud? Or are you gonna move that tight little hiney and let me sit with you?” she asked him, hands on her hips, the toes of one foot tapping impatiently.

  Ian wisely moved over to sit beside me, giving up his whole lounger to let Nanny sit down. “That’s more like it there, hot stuff. But you could’a just sat here with me, you know,” she grumbled, shooting a glare at him.

  “Sorry, Nanny,” he said smoothly. “I figured you might want to stretch out and rest yourself a little so you can go for a swim with me in a bit.” He finished that up with a wink that had her chortling with glee.

  “Hooo-we! Aren’t you just a hot one? Trying to get me in my bikini and in the water so you can get a look at my goodies,” she cackled, clapping her hands together as she laughed.

  “Your goodies, Nanny? Is that what you’re calling them these days?” Allie called from the table by the door where she was sitting with her parents, my parents, and Poppy, Nanny’s husband and Allie’s Grandpa.

  “Allie, girl, you know I still got my girls. They haven’t given up on me yet, and your Poppy can vouch for me.”

  Allie giggled and nudged her mom before she replied, “You mean your fried eggs?”

  “I’ll show you fried eggs!” Nanny hollered and before anyone could blink, she flipped her shirt up and flashed everyone. And she didn’t have a bra on. Oy. But seriously, Nanny’s girls have gone a little flat over the years, so strangely (or maybe not-so-strangely), Allie’s fried egg reference fit.

  The fall-out from this act was instantaneous and deafening. Allie could only laugh; her mom yelled, “MOTHER!” loudly; Poppy grinned and waggled his eyebrows; my parents both shook their heads and looked away, but I could see them trying to fight back their laughter and smiles; Calland yelled, “My eyes!” and clapped his hands over them; Emma just laughed outright while Luke kept his eyes averted.

  Thankfully, Brandon and Chloe had gone inside, so they missed the peep show, and the kids were in the house with Jenna to clean up, but, seeing as how Allie and her family have been a part of their lives since birth, I wasn’t so certain they hadn’t seen this before.

  Ian, on the other hand, looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

  Never a dull moment around here…

  Chapter 3

  I giggled and tapped Ian’s ass, since it was literally dangling in front of my face. Okay, so it wasn’t dangling so much as I was, seeing as how I was thrown over Ian’s shoulder and he was carrying me through our house into the bedroom. Quite a familiar pose for me by now.

  He sighed good-naturedly and jiggled me on his shoulder, making me giggle again and, because I could, pinch his ass.

  Then I was (seemingly) flying through the air to land on the bed that had (miraculously) showed up at just the right time to catch me.

  It was late, almost one a.m., and we were just getting home from the party, which was a laugh riot as Nanny made Ian keep his word (even though he really didn’t intend to go swimming) and get in the water with her. And yes, she really wore a bikini. The woman had no shame.

  And, of course, my Mom had brought out pitchers of her kickass sangria as the party wore on, so I was more than a little tipsy, as was much of my family. Yeah, so it was pretty much all of the female members of my family, and Allie’s, but we were all pretty lucky in that we had hot-as-sin men that didn’t mind taking care of us. The only one left unattached was my brother, Calland, and we pretty much disparaged any woman ever being able to calm him down.

  Which brings me back to the moment, me on my back, fully clothed, and giggling uncontrollably, while Ian stood across the room, carelessly stripping his clothes off.

  “I like it when you get naked,”
I said, my eyes drinking in every inch of him as it was revealed to me.

  “You do, huh?” he asked, a small grin quirking up one corner of his luscious mouth.

  I nodded sagely, rolling carelessly to my stomach and then pushing up until I was sitting on my knees in the middle of our decadent, king-size bed.

  Without a word, I reached for the hem of my tee and pulled it up and over my head, leaving me in my bra, short denim shorts, and, strangely, my flip flops that miraculously had stayed on my feet.

  Ian raised a brow at me and his smile grew, his eyes darkening as he took in my breasts spilling over the lacy cups of my bra. I smiled back and hooked my fingers into the waistband of my shorts, flopping (ungracefully) to the side before I dragged them and my panties down my legs and kicked them off, along with my flip flops.

  I cringed and then laughed as they went flying and Ian had to duck to avoid being hit in the face. He cocked his head at me and bared his teeth in a grin I could only describe as predatory before he started stalking to the bed.

  I scrambled up as quickly as my tipsy-self could, warding him off by waving my hands, not even realizing that I was mumbling, “No, no, no, no, no,” under my breath until he started nodding his head in response.

  “Ian,” I whined, sticking my bottom lip out in a pout that I could only hope was sexy and cute. “I wanted to give you tipsy-crazy-drunk sex!”

  “You will,” he replied, still advancing. By this time, his knee was on the bed and he was moving close to where I’d plastered myself against the headboard.

  “But I wanted to be in charge,” I continued, still pouting, but ruining the effect with a giggle.

  “Nu-uh,” was all I got in response.

  But then I didn’t care anymore as his hand reached out and curled around my neck, pulling me forward against his chest as his mouth took mine in a hard kiss, his tongue sweeping inside to tangle with mine.

  I groaned as he nipped at my bottom lip and then laved the sting with his tongue, all the while his hands were moving, pulling me closer into his body. I could feel the hard length of him pressing against my belly, a searing heat that made me arch into him, whimpering for more.

  We were chest to chest, both kneeling at the head of the bed and my head was swimming with a heady combination of alcohol and lust, pushing me over the edge of reason.

  Breaking the kiss, I breathed, “Fuck me, Ian.”

  He growled low in his throat and shifted. I found myself face down on the bed, while Ian jerked my hips up, his knees spreading my thighs wide, the hot, thick length of him sliding through my wetness before he notched himself into my drenched opening, slamming deep with one thrust.

  I twisted my hands into the comforter and arched my back, tipping my hips up as Ian fucked me hard, a keening cry being wrenched from my lips as the heavy slap of his balls against my clit and the fast, pounding thrusts of his cock brought me to the edge of release almost immediately.

  He gave no mercy and I loved it, but he took it even further when he growled, “Up,” and pulled me up so I was on my hands and knees. He rode me faster and harder then, slamming into me over and over again, sending me screaming over the edge when he fisted his hand in my hair and jerked my head back firmly but gently, ordering, “Come on my cock, baby. Now.”

  I came and I came hard, then rushed headlong into another orgasm as he thrust deep and stayed buried inside me, grinding into me as he found his release.

  We stayed like that for a minute, Ian still throbbing inside me, my sex still pulsing around him, until he, at least, caught his breath enough to move. I felt him leave the bed as I collapsed, face first once more, onto the bed, still fighting to catch my breath.

  He was back shortly and I sighed as a warm, wet washcloth dipped between my thighs, tenderly cleaning away the evidence of our lovemaking.

  I smiled to myself as I felt his lips brush the back of my thigh before he was gone to the bathroom. It seemed like in no time, he was back and gently moving us beneath the covers, snuggling in with me.

  “Love you, baby,” I murmured, settling against him and yawning as sleep dragged me down.

  But I was awake enough to smile softly against his chest when he whispered, “Love you more,” against my forehead.

  ***

  My eyes cracked open, squinting against the sun peeking through the curtains and shining directly on my face. I stretched and yawned, then rolled over to cuddle closer to Ian.

  An invisible Ian, apparently, because the bed beside me was empty. I threw off the comforter and got one leg off the bed before the bedroom door swung open and Ian filled the doorway.

  “Morning, sleepyhead.”

  “Mornin’,” I mumbled back.

  “Don’t leave the bed, baby. I made you breakfast,” Ian said, moving into the room.

  I finally noticed the tray (not really a tray…it was a cookie sheet) in his hands and swiftly tucked myself back into the bed, pulling the covers up and leaning against the headboard. Of course, then my bladder started screaming, so I threw the covers off and scrambled off the bed, throwing a hurried, “Wait a sec, gotta pee!” over my shoulder as I ran for the bathroom.

  His low chuckle followed me through the room.

  In a flash, I was back on the bed, tray in my lap, with Ian lounging at my side. I bit into a perfectly cooked, crispy piece of bacon and moaned.

  “You’re so good to me, you know that?” I asked him once I’d chewed and swallowed.

  He didn’t reply, but he did curve his hand over my thigh just below the tray, squeezing lightly.

  “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked after a minute.

  I paused in devouring the plate of cheesy, fluffy scrambled eggs and toast that he’d made to accompany my bacon to answer. “I’m good. You know I don’t get hungover,” I said, scooping another bite into my mouth.

  “Yeah, I know, but you also don’t usually down six glasses of your Mom’s sangria,” he said with a grin.

  “Six? I thought I finished the pitcher!” I said, laughing.

  He shook his head at me, fondly, as he replied, “You did. That was your sixth glass.”

  I finished eating and he took the tray from me, leaning over the side of the bed to place it on the floor, before rolling back into me and pulling me beneath him.

  “What are you doing?” I asked softly, reaching up and winding my arms around his neck.

  He dipped his head and nibbled my throat. I sighed and pressed my head back into the pillow to give him better access, then groaned in protest when he lifted his head.

  “Just telling you good morning the nice way,” he replied, leaning down to brush his lips gently across mine.

  “Well, good morning to you, too. Again,” I said, lifting my head to increase the pressure of my lips against his.

  When he lifted his head again, I smiled up at him. “Breakfast in bed and a morning make-out? Damn, how’d I get so lucky?”

  Chapter 4

  “Ian,” I muttered, but that’s as far as I got.

  It was Monday, the last day of my lovely three day weekend. Sunday had been perfect; how could it not have been with a kickass wake-up from Ian that included breakfast in bed, and then we’d spent the day together, just the two of us. We’d driven down to the huge flea market off 75, spent some time walking around, and then made a pit stop at the new casino they’d built, before I’d made him take me to Mellow Mushroom for dinner. It’s my all time favorite pizza place.

  But, unfortunately, that perfectness had ended about half an hour ago when we’d left the house. This was because we were at Ian’s parents’ house for a ‘backyard get together’, and that doesn’t make for a great day. Ian had agreed to go because, well, because they were his parents and he loved them and they loved him. Even if they didn’t quite understand each other.

  Honestly, though, that’s not even the reason it wasn’t a great day. What made it a not-so-nice ‘get-together’ was the fact that his parents had advised that (what a sham
e!) the Jones family would not be able to make it as they were vacationing on the (no joke) French Riviera…normally good news. However, they’d neglected to mention that Victoria, their daughter and the current bane of my existence, had not gone with them and would be very much in attendance.

  Case in point? The she-bitch was currently standing chest-to-overflowing-chest with Ian, her arms lifted and wrapped securely around his neck as she cooed her hello in his ear. Yes, his face was annoyed, and yes, I could see him trying to pull away from her.

  But did it irk me that his hands were around her cinched-in waist, perfunctorily returning her embrace even as he tried to push her away? Hell to the yes.

  “Aw, how cute are they?” Ian’s mom, Margot, preened, clapping her hands in delight as she came to stand by me in the foyer. “They’ve been friends for so long, you know,” she said, turning my way.

  I braced myself. The cattiness was coming and we hadn’t even been in the door for ten minutes.

  “Everyone always assumed they’d end up together, which would only cement the long-standing companionship our families have enjoyed for so long.” She sighed and waved a hand. “Oh, well. I guess some things just take time…” she paused for effect, “or just aren’t meant to be.”

  Aaaand there it was. The disappointed resignation that thinly veiled the sharp barb of disapproval, tipped in poison to garner the maximum sting.

  “Mother,” Ian rebuked tightly, finally free of the octopus, moving close and taking my hand in his.

  With a vague smile, she turned and gestured for us to follow her. We moved through the large, ostentatiously decked-out house to the back porch where about a dozen and a half people milled around, all very overdressed for a backyard “get together.”

  She paused, looking me up and down before she said, “Well, I suppose you’ll do.” She then proceeded to call out, announcing our arrival to everyone milling about on the back deck area.

  I stiffened immediately, feeling very self-conscious as every eye turned to look at us, and not one of those eyes seemed friendly. I smoothed the skirt of my sundress down and wished that I’d had the foresight to wear something a little dressier. Not that there was anything wrong with what I was wearing; at least, I hadn’t thought so. The dress was baby pink and spaghetti-strapped with a fitted bodice, and the skirt flared out a bit at the hip, stopping at my knees. It fit my petite frame perfectly, accentuating my curves in a flattering way. I’d paired it with white platform wedges (I needed the height since Ian’s 6’3” and I’m a measly 5’2”), and braided my long, wavy, dark brown hair over my shoulder. My makeup was light, but I’d played up my eyes, making the bright, jade green of them pop.