Bare Skin: A Billionaire Romance (12 page)

Whipping around, a man dressed in the darkest black suit I'd ever seen was standing in the doorway. Every piece of his suit was the same solid color, from the jacket to the under shirt to his shoes. Each layer was crisp and wrapping the hardened muscles beneath.

I was awestruck, from how handsome and high-class he looked, to how his physique was still visible and carved out even in the black cloak.

His eyes were hidden behind shades that matched his suit. A thick beard rode across his jaw, and his hair was tousled just enough to give him an edge, but still fixed in a clean cut.

Have I met him before?

There was an ere of familiarity, but I couldn't place it.

Stepping inside, a smug grin filled his face. Lifting his hand to the shades, he peeled them from his face. “I knew we'd meet again.”

And my heart stopped. I physically felt the muscle pause, holding any rhythm or bounce.

My chest tightened, lungs struggling to inhale, mind reeling to gain control. Then I uttered a single word.
“You?”

I couldn't think straight, there was no way this could be right.

Kash.

There he was, standing in front of me, dressed like a ceo from a million dollar business.

No, there's no way. It's not possible.

Tugging on his cuff, Kash tucked his shades into the breast pocket. “In the flesh, Princess.”

“Have you two met?” Dana asked, her confusion matching my jaw as it crashed into my neckline.

Kash's smile grew ten sizes, his bright white teeth glaring at me with eyes of their own. “We met briefly. How's your thigh?”

I couldn't speak, there were no words forming in my mind. I was dumbfounded and surprised, while my heart raced inside my chest ready to burst.

My mouth tried to move, but only weird grunting wind sounds emerged.

No fucking way. This has to be a joke.

Did Beth do this?

“What's wrong? You look surprised.” Holding his arms out, he spun in a slow circle. “I clean up nice, huh?”

“Is this a joke? Dana, this can't be the investor. This guy owns a tattoo studio, this can't be right.” The whites of my eyes expanded, lids unable to blink, unable to close even if I tried.

“I assure you, Willow, I am the investor.” Stepping closer, his cologne wafted through the air, stealing my senses. “I'm a man of many talents. And there are so many more I'd like to show you.” Winking, his brow arched high.

“No, no, no.” Throwing my hand up, I snapped my head towards Dana. “You said the investor's name was Theodore, his name is Kash.” Pointing, I couldn't hide my anger and disbelief. My brows furrowed, nostrils flaring, head ready to launch fire from deep inside.

What kind of sick joke was this?

That man couldn't be the one who was holding my dream in his hands. He did tattoos, he had his own studio. How could he also have the means to fund other people?

Was he a damn trust fund baby? Given the world when he came of age, given the world as a kid and so comfortable with getting anything he wanted?

“Willow, this is the investor.” Dana stared at me, her fingers twining around each other like she just revealed a long hidden secret.

Bowing his head, Kash said, “Theodore Kash Slade, at your service.” One arm fell across his torso, the other draping his back.

All my muscles froze, cold sweat trickling down my spine. “You're not joking.”

“No joke, Princess.” His lips reached his ears, eyes glowing in a sick satisfaction. “So tell me, how's that tattoo treating you? Has it been nice to you, have others been nice to you?”

My heart stopped. The cold sweat turned to boiling water, singeing my skin as it made its way over my neck and down my back.

Oh my God.

The past few days had started to filter through my head. The way people were acting towards me, the things people had given me.

All the special treatment, the free pizza, the free books, the way people walked around me...

The men who backed off suddenly and begged me not to tell.

Did they not want me to tell him?

Who was this man?

“That was you?”
The words spilled from my lips, tongue lashing them off like hot coal. Rubbing my forehead, I stumbled backwards, falling into the table. Holding the edge, I tried desperately to stop the room from spinning.

“Good, I'm glad it's done its job. Especially because I didn't get the chance to finish mine.” A wicked laugh broke free, his head falling back as a deep chuckle filled room. “Well, look at this.” Walking to the front of the room, he browsed over my art. “I had no idea you were so talented. I mean, I thought you had talent with your hands, but I thought it was probably talent below the belt, similar to mine.” Lifting his finger to his nose, he drew in a large breath. “I didn't expect this.”

My body began to tremble, heart speeding up like I had just ran a three mile race.

“Theodore, please,” Dana said, holding her hand up. “Willow, are you alright?”

“This was supposed to be my day.” The words were more of a whisper, barely finding sound.

All the life I had streaming through my veins, all the nerves and excitement that had been coating my entire body down to the bones, it all washed away.

I was cold, drained, pummeled into an emotionless bag of mush.

“This is still your day, Sweetheart. These are really good.” His massive hands caressed the frames, eyes gliding over each image. “Maybe you can come paint something special for me in private. I'd like that. And I'll make sure we get to finish what we started.”

“Really? Is this funny to you?” Cocking my head, I glared at him through crinkled lids.

“No, Princess, it's not funny. I'm serious, you can come paint nude if you'd like. I mean you did seem really uncomfortable the other day in clothes, so naked would be fine.”

Veering my stare, I wanted my words to cut through the air and hit him. “Screw you.”

How dare he make a mockery of me.

Dana's back went straight, her arm flying up to halt him from saying another word. “Theodore, that's enough!” Stepping to me, her hand rested on my shoulder. “Willow, let me talk to him in private. Give me five minutes.”

My body was charging, his subtle reminders of what we did raided my insides and took me hostage. My chest was tight with attraction, my thighs burning with need.

The suit dressed his body just as amazing as a Roman statue in a loin cloth. His muscles were piercing, still firm and bulging. And under it all, his eyes stayed static, drawing lines over my body.

His leaf-green eyes popped, vivid and luminous. I don't remember them being so bright, glinting in a momentary flash.

And my lungs stopped, his gaze slashing the reflex my body should have had to keep my chest rising. I was stunned, mesmerized, unable to break the hold he had on me.

But today wasn't supposed to go like this. This was serious, at least I thought it was serious.

Obviously he didn't.

This was supposed to be the day that would change my life, the day I had worked so hard for. The pictures I had of myself in that shop started to fade, they began to fizzle turning to rain drops and melting away.

Without this, the gallery couldn't manifest into reality.

Without this, I'd have a dusty old store with no means to bring it back to life.

I could feel my eyes filling, tears cresting my lids, ready to fall. I didn't want to cry, didn't want to let him see me so vulnerable to his ways.

With one large breath, I looked over at Dana. “I'm sorry you wasted your time, Dana.” Forcing my foot forward, I walked out the door, and didn't look back.

Leaving my work behind, everything I dreamed for myself, it had all been for nothing.

He thought it was a joke, he thought I was a joke.

How could I have been so stupid?

Why did I let myself think that I could go anywhere with painting?

I'm not an artist, I'm a failure.

Dana's voice echoed over my shoulder, but I pushed her words away.

This had been a waste of time.

Kash

H
er face was priceless. Lashes turned to whips, eyes turned to razors. The plump lips that plagued my thoughts pushed out, forcing a natural swell to the already thick flesh.

My heart skipped, my stomach jumped. My cock jerked to life, ready to ravage the woman I've wanted.

But then her body curled into itself, coiling away and retreating. Her muscles all withered in defense, excitement turning to sorrow.

I never meant to upset her.

Willow had looked stunning, the deep purple dress smoothly blanketed her curves in a silk layer, the sweetheart top dipped in, letting her breasts breathe for my eyes.

And letting my eyes devour the cleavage as she inhaled angry oxygen.

But she stormed off, huffing and puffing about my presence.

She never expected me. No one ever does.

The many people I had lifted off the dirty ground and held into the spotlight, never imagined that I was the owner of 'INK.'

But how could they?

During the day when I wasn't occupied with tattooing is when business took place, that's when the suit covered who I truly was, and my mind broke free. At night, I let my arms talk for me, I let the art on my body draw every eye my way.

And I can't lie, I loved the attention.

“Theodore, you really need to watch what you say. This was a big day for her.” Dana shot me the eyes of an angry mother. The delicate wrinkles by her lips pulled in tight as she pursed her mouth.

“What? I don't know why she got so angry. I was complimenting her paintings.”

Dana veered her stare, frustration filling her gaze. Her arms folded over each other, foot shooting out to the side. She didn't need to say it, I knew what she was thinking.

“I'll go talk to her,” I said, flicking the collar of my jacket.

“Yeah, I think you should. She was already nervous enough without you throwing your cheap sex talk at her.” Squeezing her arms, her foot tapped the floor like a tempered bottle ready to pop.

I had known Dana for years, she was used to my antics, and for her to wave a stern finger at me... I might have crossed the line.

But I couldn't help it. I had blue balls for days after that night with Willow, and no matter how much I jerked off to ease the pain, it didn't go away.

The tightness sat there, wrangling my manhood with thick fingers.

All I could think about was her warmth, her scent, the way she tightened around my finger with need. The gloss of her lips made me think of her wet sex below, her chest filling up made me picture her inching her way to orgasm, before it was all cut short way to quickly.

Seeing her here, it only fueled the fire.

“I'll go find her.” Heading out the door, I made my way to the parking lot. Looking around, I spotted Willow hunched over a broken rusty fence.

She was rubbing her temples, head slumped forward onto the steel metal ringlets. And the rest of her body looked just as deflated. Her shoulders leaned in, leg dipping her toes in the large cracks that looked like lightening in the pavement.

Running a hand through my hair, I walked up behind her. “Willow?”

“Fuck off, Kash.”

“Hey, I came out to apologize, you don't need to bite my head off.”

“I don't want your apology. You can take it and shove it.” A soft sniffle broke her words, hand running across the front of her face.

Is she crying?

Shit, I fucked up more than I thought.

I wanted to tease her, help her remember the intense electricity between us. But it bit me in the ass, turning my playful game into a dream crushing song.

Willow kept her head buried, face turned away as I tried to look at her.

“I'm sorry, I should have been—”

Cutting me off, she snapped. “Less of a dick.” Her hair splashed up against her cheeks, falling away with a cool breeze that circled around us.

Every muscle in my body fell harder, weakening to her tantalizing allure that gripped my core.

“Well, that, yeah.” Dragging my fingers through my beard, my hand slid over my jaw. “But I should have been more professional.” That was a hard thing for me to say.

I don't apologize, ever.

Especially if it was just for being myself.

Or calling out to something I wanted.

Apologies meant you said something you shouldn't have. Or that you're not proud of who you are, and that you're better off thinking like the person you're with.

Apologies steal your voice, your mind, your thoughts, your feelings.

I never apologized, until her.

There was a time in my life, a time that I decided to push away, to forget. A time that an apology was needed, was expected, but I ran away. I couldn't do it.

And I regretted that moment more than anything, if I could take it back I would.

But time doesn't wait around for you to be ready, it doesn't pause or shut down. Time had escaped me, and now that chance was gone.

Maybe this was my chance to make up for that, to try and fix myself to be better.

To realize mistakes are made, choices are forgiven, and I can forgive myself for not saying sorry when I should have.

Where is this coming from?

Why do I care how she feels?

Something strange rode my spine. It was... It was... A feeling. One that had been erased with my past, with my...

Forget it.

Willow deserved my apology, she came into this thinking I would be someone else. She came into this with her heart on a silver platter, not expecting to be faced with the man who stole a piece of her innocence in a cold tattoo chair.

Was she a virgin?

No, not with the way she accepted my hand.

But maybe.

I questioned myself about that one. Her sex was so tight, so needy, so wet.

She melted over my hand in a way I never felt before. Virgin or not, I stole some piece of her that night, and decided to keep it for myself.

I was selfish, claiming her moment, thinking only of my own needs.

My need for her, my need to see her, to have her.

To steal her from the rest of the world and make her mine.