Page 22 of Skin Deep

It would help put some distance back between them again, which would be good.

Right now, though, she didn’t want that distance. She wanted to take him to a hotel room, strip them both naked and wring pleasure from their bodies until neither of them could see straight.

“Nope.” Fred took a sip of his own drink as she cocked her head, certain she’d heard wrong.

“What do you mean, nope?” Quick as a snake, she rested her palm in the juncture of his thighs to prove her point. Her artist’s fingers traced up and down the length of his cock, which was still swollen and needy. “I think your little friend here likes the idea.”

“There’s nothing little about my friend, and you know it.” Fred arched an eyebrow, cast her a crooked grin that was so devastatingly sexy she almost straddled him in his seat, right there and then.

“Then why not?”

“We’ve tried doing things your way,” he reminded her, tapping a finger on her lips. “That involved you sneaking out of a hotel room in Amsterdam without telling me your name. A quickie in your shop before you threw me out. And a temper tantrum exorcised in a public tattoo clinic that violated your lease agreement and could get you thrown out.”

“It was a publicity stunt, not a temper tantrum.” She sat up, straight and prim—her, Amy Marchande, prim—as she refuted his latter claim. She couldn’t do the same for the two former.

“We just did a little test run, and you got wetter than you’ve ever been in your life when you let me take charge.” He tapped her on the lips again, and her tongue darted out to run over the tips. She tasted herself, salt and musk, and felt that slow burn between her legs ignite again.

“From here on out, we’re going to do things my way. And trust me—you’re going to like it.”

CHAPTER NINE

“YOU AND AMY looked pretty cozy last night.” Theo dropped two massive submarine sandwiches down on the small table in front of Fred before pulling out a chair and sitting down. Even though the small sandwich shop was only a five-minute drive from the plaza, Fred had never been inside. He could already tell he’d be back, and not just for the food, which his nose told him was going to be delicious. He was digging the understated décor, and by understated, he meant non-existent—a bare concrete floor, exposed studs in the walls, and a computer printout held up with masking tape pointing out the route to the washrooms.

“Is this where you pull some big-brother crap and warn me not to touch your sister?” Fred snorted as he peeled the wrapper off his sandwich. Lobster rolls—his favorite. “I’m still not completely understanding why you call the Marchande girls your sisters. Aren’t you living with one?”

“One question at a time.” Theo held up his index finger. “When I got back to the table last night, you and Amy looked sweaty and guilty. A year ago, I would have hauled you out of that booth and beat your ass for touching her.”

“You could have tried.” Fred grinned before taking a big bite of his sandwich, the salty flavors exploding on his tongue. “What changed?”

“Meg punched me in the solar plexus, if you must know.” Theo glowered. “When she was hooking up with John. Apparently women don’t like it when we tell them who they can sleep with.”

“That’s very evolved of you,” Fred replied dryly. “I don’t know her that well yet, but something tells me that if you tried to do the same thing to Amy, you’d wake up with the word dickhead tattooed on your forehead.”

“You’re not wrong.” Theo shuddered. “I remember once, back when we were kids. I was over at their house and we were all playing hide-and-seek. I thought it would be funny to hide all her Barbie dolls.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t go the way you thought it would?” Fred leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his soft drink.

“She didn’t say anything right then, just crossed her arms and looked at me. Like a child of the corn, you know?” Theo snorted out a laugh. “I thought that would be the end of it. Then a week later, I woke up to a freak show in my own damn bedroom. She’d painted all those Barbies that I’d hidden to look like zombies, then hung them all over my room. It was the freakiest shit I’ve ever seen. When I got all self-righteous about it, she just laughed and laughed. Bet me ten bucks I’d never touch her dolls again.”

“Bet she was right.” Fred tried to hide his grin but couldn’t. “Damn, that’s...twisted. And brilliant, really.”

“You’ve just summed up Amy Marchande perfectly.” Theo picked up a napkin and wiped his hands.

“How did she get into your room at night, if you were all kids?” Fred swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, then eyed the deli counter, contemplating a second. “Do I want to know?”

“We moved in next door to the Marchandes when we were all kids.” Theo crumpled his empty sandwich wrapper into a ball. “We were all friends, though I was closest to Jo. She used to climb the tree outside my room and sneak in my window. That’s what Amy did, too.”

“And Jo is the one you’re now living with?” Fred furrowed his brow. “Isn’t that like dating your sister?”

“I’ve never thought of Jo like my sister.” Theo grinned, then pushed himself back from the table with a groan. “Man, I haven’t had a lobster roll in years. So good.”

“I’ll get another if you will.” Fred slurped the last of his drink.

“Can’t.” Theo shook his head.

“A moment on the lips, forever on the hips?” Fred smirked across the table at his friend, enjoying the conversation. He and Frank and Theo had been tight once upon a time, but they’d drifted. It was nice to catch up.

“Hardly.” Theo flexed a bicep that was pretty impressive for someone who worked at a desk. “Nah, there’s a big family dinner tonight. Meg’s cooking—that’s what she does, she’s a caterer—and she’s like a little Ukrainian baba about it. If you don’t stuff your face with three servings, her feelings get hurt.”

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