Dirty Love & Filthy Lies Read online

  I squeeze my eyes shut and will myself to remain strong as my core pulses to life. “I need a minute,” he says, voice husky. “Would you like some water or something else to drink?”

  My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, so instead of trying to speak, I shake my head no and then wait for him to leave the room. Now alone, there isn’t anything to hold back the sharp exhale from my lips. I plant my head face down on the bench and silently chastise myself for being so stupid. I can’t believe I groped Ashton. My hand is still warm from the feel of him. I let out a small laugh, imagining the shock on Becca’s face when I tell her what I did. She’ll be pissed that I didn’t take it further.

  I’m kind of mad I didn’t either.

  It’s a good ten minutes before Ashton returns, his face more relaxed than when he left. Without a word, he hands me a stress ball from the basket, positions me where he wants me, and gets back to work. It hurts like a son of a bitch, but I keep still this time around, squeezing the little stress ball as if my life depends on it.

  “So,” I hedge. “The bartending gig. Is that something you enjoy doing in your spare time?”

  He snorts. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because most people wouldn’t sign up for a non-paying gig that requires them to deal with drunk college kids.”

  With my head laid to the side, my eyes focus on the sleeve of colorful tattoos decorating Ashton’s arms. I want to dissect each one until I uncover the meaning they hold. Ashton’s an anomaly.

  Ashton grunts. “My cousin Charles needed me. That frat means a lot to him. We don’t see each other often since he started college. I figured if he was asking for help then it must be important.” He wipes the rag across my skin, stopping briefly to study his work.

  The sexual tension from earlier is still present. It’s a smoldering madness that makes my heart pump wildly every time he touches me. My mind fights through the fog, not letting my uncontrollable libido get the best of me.

  “How does it look?”

  It’s a stupid question. It’s not like I expect him to tell me it sucks. The longer I lay here on this cold bench, the faster my false bravado crumbles and falls. Anxiety has made me its bitch. I’m ready to call it a day and go home.

  “I don’t create shit,” he states, his voice like a whip. “And I don’t make mistakes.” His arrogance, or maybe it’s pride, has me straining to see his face. Ashton pins me with a cruel twist of his lips. “This tat is badass. Some of my best work. You’ll love it.”

  “I sure as fuck hope so,” I shoot back. “This is easily the craziest thing I’ve ever done. Don’t give me a reason to regret it.”

  He skims his fingers over the design, and I bite my lip to keep back a moan. “What made you want to get a tattoo?” He asks.

  That is a tricky question, one that requires me to indulge in some personal information. I don’t have a closet full of skeletons, but that doesn’t mean I’m an open book either. For instance, no one needs to know that my crazy ex-fiancé is trying to blackmail me into staying with him so he can become a bigshot lawyer at his daddy’s firm. That kind of information could scare off the Pope himself.

  Keeping things simple, I stick to the Disney version of this story. “I’ve been making some changes in my life. My friend Becca mentioned that she was getting another piercing, and I tagged along. Thought this would be a good way to celebrate my new beginning.”

  He chuckles. “And here I was thinking that you missed me.”

  I did miss him. I didn’t know anything about my bartender guy, but that didn’t stop me from dreaming about him. I sure as fuck didn’t know he owned this parlor. The mystery surrounding him was fun, but the reality is even better. Not wanting to over inflate his ego, I stay silent, my eyes fluttering closed while I try to ignore the incessant scrap of the needle against my sore skin.

  The buzzing from the machine continues for another good thirty minutes. By the time Ashton is done, my body is literally vibrating with pent-up energy.

  My eyes snap open. “Can I see it now?” I ask, excitement riding my words.

  His gaze is heavy. “Let me get you cleaned up first.”

  I’m on pins and needles, my fingers digging into the leather bench as I impatiently wait for him to wipe off the excess ink and blood from my skin. My body hums like a live wire, just waiting to be released. The moment he moves to put away his supplies, I dart off the bench and run over the full standing mirror in the back corner of the room. Even with my hair pulled back and my body twisted around like a pretzel, I’m having a hell of a time getting a good look at my shoulder blade.

  With the swagger that should be illegal, Ashton walks over and places a large hand mirror in front of me. “Use this,” he instructs.

  “Thanks,” I say, turning around and using the smaller mirror to help me see the design. A small gasp leaves my lips the moment my eyes land on the colorful drawing. It’s nothing like I expected, and I mean that in the best way possible.

  “What kind of flower is that?” I can’t stop staring at it. The colors are soft and feminine, complimenting my skin tone while all the small details he added makes it come alive.

  My eyes narrow on Ashton as I wait for his explanation. “It’s a lotus flower,” he states while his facial expression screams, I thought you were in college. How can you not know this?

  I bristle under his hard gaze. “I come from a family that had dirt and rocks for a yard. The only grass or flowers we had were in the form of weeds.” Softening my tone, I ask, “What’s so special about a lotus?”

  Ashton doesn’t respond right away.

  Leaning his shoulder against the door, his relentless gaze rakes me over, holding me captive. A shudder rolls through me. “A lotus flower retracts itself into the water at night and reemerges when it becomes light again,” he states. “Back in Ancient Egypt, a lotus flower was used to represent rebirth. The blue lotus, like the one I gave you, means knowledge, wisdom, and intelligence.”

  My lungs feel as if they’re failing me.

  Each breath I take is excruciating.

  It’s like Ashton has reached into my chest and has a vice grip around my heart. The gift he gave me is as perfect as the muscles decorating his torso. I swallow and take a step closer to him. “That’s amazing,” I say, meaning every word. I look in the mirror, giving the tattoo one more hard study, seeing it now through a set of new eyes. “I love it.”

  Before I can turn back around, Ashton steps forward and wraps his arm around my waist. He’s so tall that even standing to my full height, I only come up to his shoulder. His eyes lock on my lips as he speaks. “We need to talk about how you’re going to pay for my services.”

  My mind dives straight into the gutter and a zing of hurt zaps through me. I go to step out of his embrace, but Ashton’s isn’t having it. His arms tighten around me, acting as unmovable bands, pulling me closer and surrounding me in his intoxicating scent. My hurt is quickly replaced with rage. “If you think I will pay you with a quick fuck, then you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  Ashton gets right up in my face, his fingers tightening around my waist. I try to read his expression, but he’s got his emotions locked down tight. “First off,” he says, his chocolaty colored eyes skimming over my face, “I don’t think there is anything cheap about you. In fact, you’re too pure and good for the debauchery that runs through my head.” I shiver in his arms, enjoying the way his calloused fingers feel against my skin. “Second, I wasn’t asking for a fuck as payment. I might be an asshole, but my momma raised me better than that.”

  My mind shifts back to my earlier talk with Becca. Something here isn’t adding up. My stomach sours with anxiety. “My friend Becca said the payment was handled,” I say, still studying his face. “If you’re worried about a tip, don’t be. I might be a college student, but I know about etiquette. I would never stiff you or anyone else for their hard work.”

  Ashton’s mouth curves up into a smile, and damn if it doe
sn’t turn my insides all warm and gooey. “No tip needed. Your money is no good here, sweetheart.”

  “Stop talking in riddles,” I huff out. “Give me a straight answer. What are you asking for?”

  “A date,” he deadpans, his voice a smooth purr. “Emma Jameson, I want to take you out on a date.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “How’s the tattoo feeling?”

  I glance up from my dresser to see Becca walking through the door carrying an armful of groceries. I reach out to help, but she waves me off, plopping the heaviest of the bags on her bedside table.

  “It’s itchy as hell, but the redness is almost gone.”

  Reaching over, I pick through a few of the bags and frown when I find nothing to cure my sweet tooth. Everything Becca bought is either a vegetable, fruit, or a type of pasta. There’s even a package of tofu in there. I eye her skeptically. “What is all this for?”

  Becca sags down into her chair with a shrug. “Patrick has decided to become a vegetarian after reading an article about them living longer. We had nothing remotely healthy here so I thought I would be a nice girlfriend and pick up a few things he might like.”

  “Is this like the time that he swore off all foods that began with the letter B because he was convinced, they caused extreme gas?”

  Becca belts out a laugh. Kicking up her legs, she slouches further in her chair as she attempts to get comfortable. “That man better appreciate how much I love him. He comes up with some of the craziest shit, and that’s saying a lot coming from me.” When her amusement dies down, she arches an unimpressed brow at me. “Is that what you’re wearing on your date?”

  My smile slips. I glance down at my attire and shrug, not seeing anything wrong with what I’m wearing. Skinny jeans and crop tops are in style. Besides, it’s not as if we’re going anywhere fancy.

  “Don’t start with me woman,” I warn, tension ratcheting up my spine. Becca has an uncanny way of making me second guess myself, and I hate it. She doesn’t do it on purpose, but the result is still the same. “A game of miniature golf and dinner doesn’t exactly call for heels and stockings.”

  “You should always dress to impress when playing with a man’s balls,” she states with the utmost seriousness.

  My lips tilt in a smile despite my trying not to. “Thanks for the advice,” I say, sparing her a side glance. “In the future, try to not talk about my date’s balls. Or anyone’s balls, for that matter.” I finally locate the socks I’ve been searching for and take them over to the bed so I can finish getting ready.

  When I’m finished slipping on my socks and shoes, I stand and absently adjust my jeans, making sure they don’t ride up too high on my ankles. High waters aren’t a good look. Once happy with my appearance, I slide my money, keys, and identification in my back pocket before turning to tell Becca goodbye.

  “Ashton should be here soon,” I say, giving the room one last critical look to make sure that I’m not forgetting anything. “I’m going to meet him downstairs, so he doesn’t have to go through the trouble of being buzzed in.”

  “You’re no fun,” she groans. Turning in her seat, she blasts me with the saddest-looking puppy dog eyes. “Don’t be stingy. Have him come up so I can drool over how hot he is.”

  “Not happening. You embarrassed me enough with that shit last week,” I retort.

  Ashton walked me back to the reception desk after wrapping up my tattoo. I found Becca parked on the couch there waiting for me. She wasn’t expecting to meet Ashton and literally praised his work for a full ten minutes.

  I was embarrassed, and it only got worse when she realized that he was the bartender from the party. Becca openly ogled his ass and told him not once, but twice that he was lucky she was in a committed relationship or else she would be all over him like crabs on a whore. Her words, not mine.

  I’ll be good.” She raises her pinky in the air, waiting to loop it with mine. “I promise.”

  “No,” I answer, not taking a moment to think over it. “I don’t need you fawning over him or giving him a bigger head than he’s already got.”

  Becca throws back her head in roaring laughter, her whole body shaking with the motion. “Bigger head!” She stumbles over the words, having a hard time getting them out as another surge of laughter assaults her. “Seriously, that’s too easy,” she complains. “You’re not making this hard enough on me. You got to give me a challenge.” She pauses for a moment, and then starts laughing again. “Get it?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Hard on me?”

  I blow a raspberry with my lips. There’s no winning when she’s like this. No matter what I say, she’s will find a way to turn it into something funny, dirty, or both. More than likely both. Leaning down, I give her a side hug. “I’m out. See you later, babe.” Grabbing the door, I head down the hall and outside where the sun is bright, and the air is crisp.

  I’m sitting at one of the outside tables watching two squirrels fight over a nut when a shadow falls over my face. I smile and tilt my head up, expecting to find Ashton standing next to me. My frown is instant.

  I let out a bitter laugh. “And here I thought I was having a good day. What are you doing here, Conner?”

  “Well, hello to you too,” he shoots back. With his sea-green eyes, fitted shirt, and tousled hair, he’s strutting around campus like an underwear model. His smile is too easy. I know better than to judge a book by its cover. He fooled me once, I won’t let that happen again. “You got a moment?” he asks. “We need to talk?”

  “No,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest. I want him gone before Ashton arrives. Short of going crazy and literally chasing him away, I don’t know what else to do. “Can we do this another time? I’ve got plans.”

  “Not really. It’s important,” he says, turning hard eyes on me. Not missing a beat, he perches against the tree opposite of me and he keeps talking. “My dad’s gotten wind of our separation. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how unhappy he is about it.”

  “Wait.” I scoot forward on the bench. “Why is this my problem?” I ask, forcing myself to remain calm.

  Conner rubs a hand over his face, and it isn’t until now that I really notice how tired he looks. My eyes travel over him, cataloging all the small differences. There is a slight bit of stubble beginning to darken his jaw, his eyes less sparkly, skin dull, and that normal arrogance he wears around like a second skin is nowhere to be found.

  “My dad’s been in touch with the dean. He’s pissed and ready to pull Bella’s college tuition as a way of punishing you. She’ll lose her placement to another student if that happens. I think I can hold him back for maybe a week, but he’s adamant that if we’re not together than his generosity towards your family is over.”

  My nostrils flare. It’s not like I expect his father to continue supporting my sister out of the goodness of his blackened and shriveled up heart, but I had hoped we could have worked something out. I don’t have much, but the option to pay him back in installments would be nice. Tutoring kids isn’t a steady income. I’m not scared of hard work. I’ll get another job if needed. Whatever it takes. This whole situation sucks on so many levels. It’s not as if Conner’s family would miss a few thousand dollars. The money his father paid is nothing compared to what his mother spends every month on her designer outfits.

  “I need more time,” I argue. “I know I’m asking a lot, but I’m up to my eyeballs in exams right now. I need more than a week to come up with a way to get the money.”

  Conner makes a tusking sound that grates on my nerves. “Why are you making this difficult? There’s an easy solution that would ensure that all this goes away.”

  “No!” I shoot back, my lips uttering the word before my mind even settles on the answer. What kind of idiot does he take me for? My freedom is not for sale. I love my sister, but I have to draw a line somewhere and being Conner’s pet isn’t an option I can live with. “Our wedding is off and that’s not changing. What we had is ov
er.”

  “Stop thinking with your emotions.” He sighs as if I’m the exasperating one. “If we get back together, then your sister can get the education she deserves. Knowing my dad, I’m sure you can even talk him into getting you a good job with the State once you graduate. It’s a win for everyone involved.”

  I swallow my ire and sit back with my arms firmly crossed over my chest. “You’re an ass,” I tell him. Heaving out a hard breath of air, I glance up, my eyes boring into his. “Stop while you’re ahead. Manipulation won’t work on me. I’ve dealt with men much worse than you and if they weren’t able to break me, you sure as fuck won’t be able to.”

  Conner scowls. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. I’m not trying to break you. I’m here to help. It’s time for you to grow up and realize that actions have consequences. My father isn’t someone you want to tangle with.”

  I scoff. “Wow. Now I’ve heard it all.” How dare him try to make me out to be the bad guy in all this. “If you had kept your dick in your pants then, maybe we would still be together. I didn’t ruin us. You did.”

  Conner’s brows dip, and a dark expression takes over his face. “Maybe?” His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow to slits. This has the potential to turn bad. My insides twist into a pretzel. I’m not in the mood to fight with Conner. As always, Conner will throw a fit and ruin my day, whether I like it or not. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He yells. “Since when did our breakup become such a foregone conclusion?”

  “Since you started acting like an asshole,” I yell back, my lips thinning in annoyance.

  “The girl you cheated on me with was the last straw. I’ve known for a while now that things weren’t right between us. I stuck my head in the sand and refused to acknowledge it. I guess, I was just too in love with your stupid ass to do anything about it.”