Page 38 of Skin Deep

“I stayed because I had some things to say.” He dipped his head, brushed his lips over her forehead. “Things that have been fermenting for years. Things that could no longer wait to be said.”

“I think my feelings about your family are pretty obvious at this point.” Restless, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “But...well, they’re still your family. I’m not sorry for what I said to them. They were awful. But I... I don’t... I mean. I understand that you’re trapped in between a rock and a hard place.”

“I see things differently now that I’m with you.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, absentmindedly. “And you know what? I’m not trapped at all.”

“What...what are you saying?” Her pulse stuttered.

“I’m saying that...if you hadn’t come back into my life, I might have been content enough to stay on with the family business. To float along, meeting the status quo and living a shell of a life.” He sucked in a deep breath. “But you showed me that it’s okay to want something different. To be who you really are. To love who you love.”

“What did you say?” Her knees trembled. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her heart on her sleeve. “Don’t say it unless you mean it.”

“Amy.” Curling his free arm around her waist, Fred pulled her in closer to him. Her breath was unsteady as she looked up into his eyes. “I love you. I love everything about you. Don’t you know that by now?”

She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, let the anxiety wash away. She’d known this somehow, on some level, but even knowing that, she hadn’t been certain that love would be enough for him to defy his family.

Was he defying his family? Squeezing one eye open, she looked up at him with suspicion.

“How does this work with your job? Your...legacy?” She gestured wide with her arms, indicating the empty space. “I don’t think your dad is going to be pleased for you to keep seeing me.”

“I don’t care.” Fred’s smile was so quick, lighter than she’d ever seen it. “As of right now, I’m no longer an employee of Vaughan Enterprises. And you know what? I’ve never felt so free.”

“What?” A siren rang in her ears. “Fred, Boston is expensive. What are you going to do?”

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” He laughed lightly. “I went to law school at Harvard, and even if I’ve been disowned, the Vaughan name carries weight. I’ll have plenty of opportunities...if I want them.”

“What else would you do?”

“I don’t know.” He turned to study the unfinished mural on the wall. It was a shame that it would inevitably be painted over once tenants were found. It was some of her best work. “Maybe I’ll become a tattoo artist.”

She had a quick, bright mental picture of Fred, tattooed up as he bent over someone lying in his tattoo chair, and snorted. He raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling.

“What? You don’t think I could do it?”

“I think perhaps you should leave it to the professionals.” Biting her lower lip, she reached around him for a brush. Swirling it through the yellow, she turned back to the wall, considering where to place the bristles. “It’s an art form, you know?”

“I’m aware.” Plucking the paintbrush back out of her hand, he set it back down on her palette at the same time he turned her around. Catching her chin in his hand, he held her still while looking her over. “You have paint on your dress.”

“I make a mess when I paint mad.” She smoothed a hand over the purple satin skirt and grimaced. “I’ll have to buy Meg a new one.”

“Hmm, I think it’s salvageable.” The hand at her chin moved down, stroking over the delicate curve of her throat. “But you should probably take it off right now. So you don’t get anything else on it, you know.”

“I see.” She eyed him, momentarily uncertain. “Is this a good idea? Not to overthink sex, but right now...might it not complicate things that you need to think on?”

She gasped when one of his hands slid right into the side of her dress, cupping her breast, which pebbled against his palm. Fire in her belly ignited, she inhaled deeply, waiting to see what he would do next.

“The only thing I need to think about,” he replied, delivering a sharp pinch to her nipple that made her gasp, “is how many spanks you’re about to receive for questioning my desire to be with you. Understood?”

“Understood,” she gasped, pressing into his touch. He plucked at the silver barbell, and her need became a sharp ache, traveling quickly from her breast to the space between her legs.

She’d loved it when Fred had taken control the night before but had imagined that it was a one-off, a kinky game he’d indulged in to appease her. Hearing the rough edge in his voice right now, and having a better understanding of the dynamics to which he’d been born, told her that this dominant streak of his likely ran deeper than she’d anticipated.

She fucking loved it. Even more, after the way the evening had gone, she was more than happy to hand over the reins to someone who wanted to take control—her control.

“Do you still want me to take my dress off?” A taunting note in her voice, she did a slow spin. She’d removed her sweater and shoes when she’d broken into this space, so her naked back was revealed. She paused facing away, to give him a good look.

“No.” Closing the space between them, he quickly undid the hook and eye closure that held the neck in place. Amy gasped at the kiss of cool air on her naked skin when the top of the dress fell down around her waist. She moaned when she felt him reach around her from behind to cup her breasts, working the tips insistently until she was a panting mess, pushing back against him.

She groaned when he released the soft flesh. Trying to steady her breath, she felt him fist his hands in the hem of her skirt, slowly pulling it up to her waist. He tucked it into the waistband of the fallen bodice.

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