Skin Tight (Skin Deep #4) Read online

  T.J. and I sat in silence for a bit, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was companionable, because I’d been around him so many times before, but I still hadn’t talked to him very much. Most of the guys like Luke, Brandon, and Ian were the strong silent type, but T.J. made them seem like gossip mongers. And he really didn’t ask anyone for anything; he showed up, did his job, or whatever activity we asked him to do with us, and then he went home.

  That’s why I was caught off guard when T.J. broke the silence with a question.

  “Chloe said you used to cut hair. Will you cut mine for me?”

  I blinked in surprise, but answered quickly, “Yeah, sure. When do you want to do it?”

  “Can I come by tonight?” he asked, hesitantly.

  “Of course! Just swing by after you drop the boat off at home. I’ll have my stuff ready for ya.”

  “Cool. Thanks.”

  We both looked back at the dip of the boat to see Ian step up off the ladder. I jumped up and reached for his towel, tossing it back to him.

  He caught it with a wink. “Thanks, babe.”

  He dried himself off and leaned in, pressing his lips to mine in a quick kiss before he moved past me to take a seat up front, just as Brandon and Chloe made their way into the boat.

  “Let’s get some grub, man. I’m starving,” Brandon called, his voice muffled under his towel as he dried off his hair.

  We all seconded that, so we headed back to the dock and helped T.J. load and tie down the boat while we discussed what we were going to do for dinner.

  “We can hit up the little grocery store and go cookout by the water in the park, or check out one of the restaurants around here,” T.J. said. “I’m up for whatever.”

  It didn’t take long to decide just to stop somewhere and eat before heading home. When we were finished, Brandon and Chloe took us home and T.J. stopped by his house to drop off the boat before he came over.

  As soon as we got home, while we were waiting for T.J., Ian and I jumped in the shower to wash the lake water off of us. We’d just gotten out and I was getting dressed when the doorbell rang. Ian, who’d already donned a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt, went to answer while I pulled on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, grabbing my case with my stylist supplies.

  In short order, Ian was sitting at the kitchen table, and I had T.J. sitting in a chair with a cape snapped around his neck to keep the hair off him, running my fingers through his hair as I asked what he wanted me to do with it.

  “I don’t know. I think it’s just time for a change.”

  His hair was a long mohawk that he usually spiked up, and it was dyed black, red, and yellow, so it looked almost like flames. His hair, paired with his whiskey colored eyes, only enhanced the striking look of him; seriously, there was no denying that the man was H.O.T.

  “If I cut it shorter, you’ll have to dye it again, because I’ll end up cutting most of the lighter colors off. You’ll probably just have the red and black left,” I told him, pulling his hair up and measuring with my fingers.

  “You know what? Just cut it all off,” T.J. said decisively.

  “Are you sure? How about I just cut it short, that way you can still keep the ‘hawk, just shorter.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

  He didn’t say anything else, so I took it that it was decided. I grabbed my clippers and buzzed the sides down, then took my scissors and cut the length off the rest until he was left with a three inch long mohawk on top. Most of the color was gone; in fact, his hair was black, with just the tips barely showing the red.

  He and Ian had talked a little while I was cutting, mostly about the tattoo shop, Skin Deep, that T.J. was now part owner of with Brandon and Luke, but they’d lapsed into silence the last few minutes.

  I was running my fingers through his hair, checking to make sure the length was even when he spoke again.

  “Thanks for doing this,” he said quietly.

  I brushed the hair off the back of his neck and unsnapped the cape. “You’re welcome. It’s no trouble, really. Next time you need it cut, just let me know.”

  He stood and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?

  Ian laughed and shook his head. “Dude, don’t. You’re just gonna piss her off.”

  Well, he wasn’t wrong. I stood with my hands on my hips, glaring at T.J. “I don’t want your money. You’re a friend, T.J., practically family. You asked for a favor, I helped you out. I did it because I like you. Get it?”

  He put his hands up in front of him defensively. “All right, all right…down killer,” he soothed jokingly, his lips curled into a cute little half-smile.

  I dropped my hands and smiled back. “You know, you should smile more often,” I told him, then cursed myself when his smile disappeared. “I don’t get you, T.J. Conley. You’re so serious all the time, but you let your guard down with us every now and then, just for a second before you slap that baby right back up.”

  “Leah…” I heard Ian warn softly behind me.

  “No,” T.J. interrupted him. “She’s right. But Chloe’s really the only one who calls me on it. She reminds me of my sister in a way, even though they’re totally different.”

  I sighed. “See? I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

  He gave me that ghost of a smile again. “Well, I do. But I don’t talk about family.”

  I shook my head at him. “You don’t talk about anything.”

  “I know. It’s better that way. Maybe one day…just not now. But, like I’ve told Brandon, Chloe, Luke, and even your sister, Emma, -who by the way, tried her hand at cracking me open, as well- you guys have opened your lives to me and given me back something that I didn’t think I’d ever have again. Friendship, caring…a home.” He glanced over at Ian. “And you’re good people, all of you. The way you guys take care of your women, your families…it warms my heart. And that’s also something that I thought would never happen again. Ever.”

  Ian stepped up and clapped him on the back. “You’re good people, too, man. We all know it. And we’re all here for you, regardless of your past, even if you never talk about it.”

  I watched T.J.’s shoulders relax just a bit, just beginning to realize that he’d tensed up when I’d started to pry. Wanting to lighten the mood again and, honestly, just wanting him to smile once more, I said lightly, “And you’re so damn pretty, too. It’s no hardship to have you adding to the view.”

  I capped it off with a saucy wink that made Ian growl playfully before he reached out and pulled me into a hug, and we all ended up laughing, effectively breaking the tension.

  Ian released me and I grabbed the broom to sweep up the mess on the floor, but didn’t get far with it because T.J. deftly moved in and took it from me. I shot Ian a did-you-see-that? look, but he just waved me away.

  T.J. had the floor swept clean, the chair pushed back into the table, my case packed up (neatly, I might add), and the broom put away in the blink of an eye, leaving me gaping at him again.

  “Damn, you’re quick,” I quipped as he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms like he hadn’t moved.

  “Only when I need to be,” he drawled, his lips twitching up in a sexy little smile as he winked exaggeratedly, being deliberately suggestive.

  I flushed, unable to help it. “I…uh…okay. You guys want a beer?” I asked, stammering a little, making both Ian and T.J. laugh at me. Without waiting for an answer, I went to the fridge and grabbed two out, twisting the caps off automatically and handing one to each.

  “You flustered her,” Ian chuckled, nudging T.J. with his shoulder as they stood side by side, leaning against the counter like they didn’t have a care in the world.

  “It happens.” T.J. shrugged and gave me that maddening half-smile again.

  “Grrrr…” I growled at him, glaring. “I can’t get you to hardly string sixteen words together before tonight, you barely ever smile, and now you’re s
exy smiling and winking at me? What the hell?” I threw my hands up in frustration, ending with my legs apart and my hands on my hips as they both just smirked at me.

  I gave up and crossed my arms, content just to glare at them when T.J. send a sideways glance at Ian and said, “She’s a feisty one, isn’t she,” and Ian just nodded slowly, his eyes warming with glee. “Yes, she is, T.J. Yes, she is.”

  “Assholes,” I muttered, stalking out of the kitchen and throwing myself onto the couch, smiling to myself when I heard them laughing behind me. I wasn’t really mad. How could I be? T.J. laughed and smiled…and opened himself just the tiniest bit.

  There’s a story there. And Chloe and I would figure it out eventually.

  The guys made their way into the living room, T.J. perching on the edge of the recliner, his half-empty bottle of beer dangling from his fingertips between his wide-spread knees, and Ian picked my legs up and sat down, arranging my thighs across his lap, one of his hands curling possessively around my upper thigh while he traced his other one slowly up and down my shin.

  I glanced at the clock, noting that it was only eight o’clock.

  Ian pinched my thigh lightly as he broke the silence, asking, “You over your fit?”

  I ignored him, instead addressing the room in general. “Wanna watch a movie?” I hit the button on the remote to go to the pay-per-view new releases and scrolled through to the comedy listings, popping them up on the screen.

  Nothing caught my eye, so I dropped the remote and snuck a look at the Ian and then T.J., noting that they were both still smirking at me.

  “Are we going to watch something or not?” I asked them, more to make them stop staring at me then anything.

  T.J. chuckled and shrugged, then drained the rest of his beer.

  “Want another?” I asked him, looking to see if Ian needed one, too.

  He shook his head. “Nah, gotta drive home after the movie.”

  “Want something else?”

  He shook his head again, so I looked at Ian and got a negative shake of his head, as well. I reached for the remote again, but Ian snagged it and turned it immediately onto one of the new shoot-‘em-up/bang-‘em-down movies that had just come out. Not my favorite but…whatever.

  So it was totally not my fault that I was asleep within the first half hour.

  Chapter 12

  I was pacing back and forth across my sister’s living room floor, agitation written across every inch of my body. I was so pissed that I couldn’t even enjoy the cuteness of my niece as she watched me pace, her little head tracking me as I moved past her where she sat in her octagon-shaped, gated play yard, tossing her toys around and teasing the dogs that were watching her through the fence.

  They’d finally given up on following me, which was a good thing because every time I turned around to pace back the way I’d come, I’d almost trip over one of them as they scrabbled to get out of my way.

  Emma was sitting on the arm of her couch, watching me with concern, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She’d given up trying to get me to sit down and try to get calm once we’d gotten back to her house.

  Ian had called Luke, who’d sent Emma to get me and take me to their house until things were dealt with at home and he could get to me, because he didn’t want me driving while I was so upset.

  It was Wednesday, three days after a pretty kickass weekend that had ended with me asleep on the couch while my man watched a movie with T.J. When it was over, Ian had woken me to say goodbye to T.J., who’d swooped me up in a tight hug, thanking me for cutting his hair and letting him hang. Then Ian had taken me to bed and…well, he’d just plain taken me, sending me off to sleep with not one, not two, but three toe-curling, hair-pulling, eyes-rolling-back-in-the-head, screaming orgasms. He’s good like that.

  And Monday and Tuesday were perfectly fine, normal days. Today had been, too. Until about an hour ago when I walked into my bedroom to see a stack of Louis Vuitton luggage sitting in front of the dresser, the top one open and full of Ian’s shirts, folded neatly. More than that, there was a very strong chlorine-y smell filling the room, making my eyes water.

  Confused, and more than a little disturbed, I’d retrieved my phone from my purse on the kitchen counter and called Ian.

  “Um, are you going somewhere, or you planning on leaving me?” I’d asked him, half-jokingly. “And did you use bleach or something in the bathroom today?”

  He’d sounded distracted when he answered, “What? What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere and I’m sure as hell not leaving you. Why in the hell would you ask me something like that? And no, I didn’t use…”

  His words cut off and he’d me to hold on because he was getting a lot of texts coming through and the phone was beeping non-stop in his ear. Suddenly, I’d heard him growl, his voice low and menacing as he’d asked, “Are you at home?”

  I opened my mouth to reply but stopped when a slip of paper on Ian’s pillow caught my eye. Picking it up, I’d read the first line, my fingers tightening on it as the words penetrated, leaving me unable to utter anything to Ian other than, “Get. Home. Now,” through tightly clenched teeth.

  I’d hung up on him, finished reading the note, and then stalked to my dresser to confirm what had been written. I was still standing there, ignoring my phone as Ian called me back over and over again, staring down into the drawers I’d wrenched open, the note still crumpled in my fist when my sister had walked in, Everly on her hip.

  As soon as I’d seen her, I’d whirled and pushed her gently out of the room, crying, “NO! You can’t have Everly in here, it’s too strong!” I’d moved her into the kitchen before I’d asked, “What are you doing here?”

  She’d explained that Ian had called Luke to send her over to pick me up, but hadn’t really told her why. Just that she needed to take me to their house and wait for Ian. I hadn’t explained anything to her then, either. I’d just opened my hand and dropped the crumpled note onto the counter. She’d smoothed it out as best she could while still holding my niece, then gasped as she read.

  Then she’d folded it haphazardly, shoved it in her pocket, and after grabbing my keys off the counter, she’d shoved my purse into my hands and marched me out the door and into her car.

  Which brought us back to here, me pacing the floor of Emma’s living room incessantly.

  I’d just turned on my heel to start back across the room when a car door slammed outside, sending the dogs into a barking fit. I glanced out to see Ian running flat out for the house and met him at the door as soon as it opened.

  He grabbed me by the shoulders, leaning down to stare into my eyes as he asked, urgently, “Are you okay? Why wouldn’t you answer me? What happened after you hung up?”

  “Did you go home before coming here?” I asked, flatly.

  “No, I came straight to you because you were so upset, and I couldn’t imagine that it could be worse than it already was. But you’re still not going home until I get whatever it is cleaned up. What happened there? You never answered my questions.”

  I looked up at him, my face screwed up in confusion. “What? You couldn’t imagine it could be worse? I’m confused, Ian. Did you go home and check it out or not?”

  “No, I-” he started, but I cut him off.

  “Then you have no idea what that…that…fucking cunt…did. So how could you say that it couldn’t be worse than it was?” I stared at him for a second longer, rage still burning me up. But then it clicked in my head. “What else?”

  Ian’s fingers tightened on my shoulders and he tried to pull me into his embrace. “Baby.”

  “No. Don’t you ‘baby’ me, Ian. Tell me. What else? What else did she do, because it’s obvious there was more, and it wasn’t at the house.” I was practically growling at him, and I knew it was getting to him because I saw him swallow hard, but I was beyond caring, though it wasn’t him I was pissed off at.

  It was Victoria, the fucking she-bitch from hell that was
due to get her face rearranged just as soon as I got my hands on her.

  Ian looked over my shoulder at Emma. “You might want to take Everly out of the room for a minute. I’m so sorry, I know this is your house…or we could go outside. I just know this isn’t going to be pretty.”

  Emma stood immediately and walked over to pluck Everly up from the play yard before she walked toward the stairs. “It’s fine, she probably needs changed again, anyway.” She suddenly jolted, like she’d remembered something, which she had. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the folded, crumpled up note that I’d shown her at my house. “You’ll need this,” she said, stopping to hand it to Ian.

  Just…” she bobbed her head around, her mouth opening and closing like she had something else to say, but just couldn’t get it out.

  Ian nodded and said, quietly, “I know. I will. She’ll be fine.”

  Emma sent him one last look that faded into relief at his words and ascended the stairs.

  Ian didn’t speak until they heard the door close upstairs. “Here.”

  I took his phone from his hand when he held it out. It was an automatic movement, one I regretted just as soon as he said, “Text messages.”

  My stomach dropped and I felt sick, my mind making up a million and one scenarios as to what I’d find when I clicked open his messages. But none of them could even come close to what I saw.

  Picture after picture of Victoria, naked, sprawled across my bed. Our bed. The bed Ian and I slept together in every night, the one we cuddled, played around, and made love in every night. Each image was different, and each was more graphic than the last. They started with her just laying in the middle of the bed, arms outstretched.

  Then they moved to her spreading her legs, holding her breasts. And from there, it got worse. On all fours, spread wide so every inch of her pussy and ass was on display for the camera, while she bit my pillow. MY pillow!

  On the edge of the bed, legs still splayed, fingers shoved inside herself as she (I’m assuming) masturbated.

  But the last one…the last one made one thought crystallize in my mind, ice-cold, and sharper than a blade…and that thought was, ‘I’m going to fucking murder that bitch.’