Skin Tight (Skin Deep #4) (2 page)

“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 shame!) 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.

But all the women standing on the deck were perfectly coiffed, dressed in head-to-toe designer couture, dripping jewelry, and holding champagne flutes as if they were accessories. They looked like they’d just stepped out of a magazine, and I...didn’t. I hadn’t thought anything when we’d come in because Ian’s mom always dresses to the nines, and of course, Octopus-Girl looked high-end whorish, as always, but no one ever looked askance at her because she belonged. She was one of them.

Clearly, I wasn’t, and Margot and all her little minions weren’t going to let me forget it.

I heard Ian sigh beside me and stepped closer to him, knowing that he wasn’t happy with the situation. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into his side as we walked out among the crowd, moving toward his dad, who was standing at the railing, overlooking the lush green yard that backed up to the lake. It was beautiful and, given different circumstances every time I’d been there, I could envision myself enjoying the house and the view. Just needed better company.

“Ah, there’s my son, the hard-working, building man!” His dad boomed out, reaching for Ian’s hand and shaking it vigorously while his other pounded him on the shoulder, jostling both of us. “You ready to retire, live the life of luxury, yet?”

“Cut the boy some slack, William, he’s still young enough to want to sow his wild oats before he settles into the life of investments like we have. He’ll put his tools down eventually and settle with Victoria, and then you can train him in the game,” one of Ian’s dad’s cronies retorted.

“Sure, sure,” Ian’s dad answered, jovially.

“Dad,” Ian said, nodding toward his father, ice coating that one word thickly. He then turned to the gentleman standing beside his father, the one who so kindly planned out Ian’s future for him in two brief sentences.

“Mr. Cline.” He pulled me closer to him and replied, “Dad, I’m sure you remember Leah Jensen, my
girlfriend
. Mr. Cline, I don’t know that you’ve had the pleasure. Leah, Charlie Cline, my dad’s co-worker and he’s the investment broker for my parents.”

I inclined my head in greeting but didn’t get a chance to reply as Ian excused us tersely and moved quickly through the crowd back towards the house. He pulled me through to the kitchen and stopped where his mother was directing the catering staff on where to set up.

“Mother, a word.”

She turned to him, a small smile quirking the corner of her lips as she asked, “Yes, dear? Is something wrong?”

“We’re leaving. I don’t know why I do this to Leah, making her come here when you and Dad have done all you can to make her feel uncomfortable. I told you the last time to stop the snarky comments, but both of you continue to be rude and to entertain these ridiculous notions that I’m going to marry Victoria. It’s not happening, and I won’t put up with this anymore, nor will I subject Leah to it.”

“Ian, what on earth are you talking about? Of course the girl is welcome here, and I do apologize if we’ve made her uncomfortable. How on earth would we have done that?” She played the part to the hilt, laying her hand against her chest and tilting her head towards him in confusion.

“Oh, come off it, Mom. I love you and I know you love me, you and Dad both. In your own ways, you’re just trying to make sure I’m happy and taken care of. But I AM happy, much happier than I ever have been, and that’s because of Leah. I love her, she loves me, and that’s the way it’s gonna be. When you decide to stop showing off your money and status, stop pushing Victoria Jones on me, and act like the real human beings I know you and Dad can be, then we’ll be back. Until then?” He paused and then shrugged his shoulders. “I’m done.”

He didn’t say anything else then, just turned on his heel and tugged me with him towards the foyer.

“Ian Thomas Mitchell, how dare you speak to your mother like that!” she sputtered. “We’ve stood beside you when you’ve desecrated your body with all of those…those…
things
all over yourself. We put you through school, let you follow your dream to start your own construction company, even though your father wanted you to go into investments with him. We just want what’s best for you, and we don’t want you to have to work yourself to death in the process. And the whole thing with Victoria, well, you’ve been close friends for your whole lives, and it’s just been assumed that you’d end up together. She’s heartbroken that you refuse to go out with her any longer, especially now that Leah’s in the picture.”

She turned to me and her smile, though catty, was slightly less hackle-raising than usual. “Leah, I do apologize that we’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m sure you’re a lovely girl and all, it’s simply just a matter of differences. You understand, yes?”

I opened my mouth to reply, even though I was at a loss for words since she’d pretty much just told me I wasn’t good enough (in not so many words), but didn’t have to say a thing.

“And once again, Mother, you’ve just reaffirmed my decision. I hope that you and Dad will eventually come to your senses and get your noses out of the air.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek gently and swiftly. “Goodbye, Mother.”

And that was that. My heart ached for him, because he’d just essentially written his parents off because they were so…so…stuck up. There’s no other word for it. And I was the reason he did it.

For the first time ever in our relationship, I was second-guessing it. What kind of person would I be to allow myself to come between Ian and his family?

“Stop it.”

I blinked and turned my head to look at Ian. I’d been staring out the window, watching the scenery pass by as he drove us home.

“Stop what?” I asked, carefully.

“Stop overthinking what just happened. It’s not your fault.”

“But, Ian-”

“I’m not built like them, Leah. I’ve known it since I was young. You know it, too, and I hope you realize that I would never stand by and let someone continue to belittle you. And that’s what they’ve done since they met you. It’s been over a year, Leah. I let it go on for too long, and for that, I’m sorry.”

I sighed. “I know you’re not like that, Ian. I’ve told you before, I’m not sure how you turned out like you did being raised by them. But they’re your parents.”

He shrugged. “And you’re the woman I love. You’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. They’ll come around eventually. If not? We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

We didn’t speak again until we got home, though he did reach over and take my hand, holding it for the rest of the drive. My cell rang as we got inside. I reached into my purse to grab it as Ian headed down the hall toward the bedroom.

“Hello?” I asked, answering without looking at the display.

“What are you doing?” Chloe asked me.

“Just got home from Ian’s parents’ house,” I told her.

“Oh. How’d that go?” she asked, and I could hear the sarcasm in her voice. She already knew the score on that front.

“Meh. About as well as you’d expect. Only this time? Let’s just say, I don’t think we’ll be going back there anytime soon.”

“That bad?” she asked, and I could tell she was wincing, even through the phone.

“The usual snark and then shit about Ian finally retiring to work investments with his dad. And don’t even get me started on the looks I got about what I was wearing.”

“What did you wear?” she asked me.

I sighed before I replied, “My pink sundress with my white wedges.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chloe shrieked indignantly.

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “I wish I was. But you’d think I’d shown up in a garbage bag the way they all looked at me.”

“But that dress is adorable and you look hot in it!” She growled and I couldn’t help but laugh at her.

“Thank you, sunshine,” I said, deliberately using Brandon’s pet name for her.

“Hey!” Brandon’s voice came through the phone in the distance. “That’s my name for her!”

“Chloe! Do you have me on speaker phone?”

“Uh…yeah. Sorry.” She giggled. “I actually had a reason for calling you, and that’s why it was on speaker. I just got sidetracked when you started talking about Ian’s parents.”

“What’s up?”

“Wait a sec, though. Was Skanktoria there?” Chloe asked.

I laughed as I heard Brandon in the background again. “Chloe! That’s mean,” he said.

“But it’s true, Brandon, and you know it. She is a skank, the way she throws herself at Ian whenever she’s around. Granted, she’s not been around lately, but still. You saw her the last time, practically naked in his lap down at Griff’s.”

She wasn’t lying. A couple of months ago, we’d all be down at Griff’s for a night out. It was packed, which wasn’t unusual for the place, especially because they had a live band that night, but we’d been dancing when Ian was grabbed from behind. When he’d gotten untangled, he’d turned to see it was a very scantily clad Victoria, and she’d been sloshed out of her mind. It wasn’t a fun night.

I cut in, stopping Chloe from arguing Brandon to death. “Yeah, she was there, and she didn’t waste any time getting her octopus arms around Ian. And of course, then his mom had to go on and on about how they were meant to be together or whatever, blah blah blah.” I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn’t see me.

“So, same ol’ same ol’, that’s what you’re saying, right?” Chloe asked me, laughing.

“You got it.”

“Hmm. Anyway, that’s not what I was calling for. I have an idea that I think you’re gonna want in on. It’s something that we haven’t done in a long time, and it’s overdue in my opinion.”