As I glanced down at my engagement ring, I sighed. What the hell was I doing? Travis could screw another woman in my face and I wouldn’t blink an eye, but I was about to go all Kill Bill on someone over taking pictures with Damon. Why? Why did I have an insane urge to throat punch any and every woman who came near him?
Because you love him.
I sighed again, finding absolutely no peace in that truth.
I heard the door open behind me, but didn’t turn around. I didn’t have to, because his scent announced him, and my body reacted to the fact that we were in that room alone just as it always had. My pulse raced, my nipples hardened, and my core throbbed. I closed my eyes and tried to shake it off, wondering if he had to endure similar torture when in my presence.
“I figured you’d find your way in here when I saw it listed as one of the attractions. Dr. Spock, huh?”
Without turning to face him, I replied, “You know it.”
“It’s crazy out there, right?” he said, as he made his way to the wall plastered with a huge poster of darkness and stars, giving the illusion of us blasting through space. “I thought you’d be the one getting all the attention with the way that outfit looks on you, not me.”
I shrugged. “Black Panther is popular right now with all the buzz from the upcoming movie, plus, you look…good in that costume. Really, really good.”
I watched a smile slowly spread across his face, revealing his beautifully aligned teeth, and I started having thoughts about the way he liked to suck on my top lip sometimes when we kissed. My stomach lurched, and I dropped my eyes.
He moved closer to me. “So, there’s a panel discussing what could be coming in the next season of The Walking Dead starting in like a minute. I wanna check that out and then watch some of the amateur anime music videos playing in another room, then hit a few vendors, grab some comic books. You wanna come with me or do your own thing?”
I hopped up from my seat. “I’ll come with you. Can we go by the little snack bar and grab something to eat? My treat.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, Nick. Whatever you want.”
Nicky was jealous, a fact that was confusing, amusing, and arousing as hell. I could see it on her face and in the tenseness of her body every time some chick stepped to me. But as crazy as her ass was, she knew she had no right to flex with her current situation.
But she wanted to.
She most definitely wanted to.
As we left that Star Trek room, I grabbed her hand. A stupid-ass part of me wanted to reassure her that she was the only girl for me despite the fact that she had another man standing in my spot. I guess that’s just how love works. My need to protect her heart was like a damn reflex even though she’d long abandoned her duty to protect mine.
We hadn’t taken ten steps out of that room when a tiny woman dressed, or barely dressed, as Harley Quinn damn near bulldozed into me, screaming, “Black Panther!” Shit, she actually knocked the wind out of me for a second.
I steadied myself and chuckled lightly. “Uh, hi. Nice to see DC showing Marvel some love.” I cut my eyes at Nicky, who wore a scowl as she stared at the woman. “Right, Nick?” I added.
Nicky tilted her head to the side and folded her arms over her chest with force, making her boobs jump a little, which made my dick jump a little.
“OMG, I need a pic with you! Selfie?” the woman gushed, then moved in close to me, wrapping an arm around my waist. After she snapped the picture, she looked up at me and smiled. Then she rubbed her hands over my chest, and said, “Mm, so this is what a vibranium suit feels like. Ooooooo!”
Nicky grabbed my hand and yanked me away from the woman. Shit, I didn’t know her little ass had that much strength in her!
“Fuck this!” Nicky yelled. “We’re leaving before I have to whoop a bitch’s ass up in here! These thirsty tricks…I swear!”
Harley Quinn’s eyes tripled in size. “Oh, are you two together? Odd pair. Black Panther and Wonder Woman…with ballerina shoes on? And where’s your lasso?” She lifted her head, now wearing an amused smirk.
Nicky dropped my hand and rolled her head around to face Harley Quinn. “Yes, bitch, we’re together. Been together. Gon’ be together. So take your little pale, un-melanated, thirsty ass on! His needs are well taken care of. Believe me! And as far as my shoes? I will kick them off and beat your ass with the swiftness if you lay another damn finger on my man!” Nicky grabbed my hand again, started walking off, then stopped and turned back to Harley Quinn. “Oh! And you better be glad I don’t have a got-damn lasso, BITCH, or else I’d strangle your shapeless ass with it!”
Nicky pulled me all the way out the door.
I hit the button on the fob to unlock the car doors and felt her drop my hand. She stalked to the passenger’s door, snatching it open, and slid in the car, slamming the door behind her. I stood by the car for a second, trying to process what had happened, wondered if she’d said what she said just in the heat of the moment or if she’d meant it. Well, there was only one way to find out.
I pulled my mask off, and as I climbed behind the steering wheel, I glanced at her. She was still seething, and before I could speak a single syllable, she was on me, mouth and tongue invading mine. Her hands were everywhere, and shit, of course my body responded to the familiarity of it all, but my brain just wouldn’t get on board. So, I broke away from her.
Panting, I shook my head. “Nick, wait!”
Her tongue snaked out of her mouth and swept across my lips. “Uh-uh,” she murmured. She clawed at the collar of my costume until more of my skin was exposed, then clamped her mouth to the hollow of my neck, sucking so hard my dick threatened to bust through my costume.
I closed my eyes and sank back in my seat, my mouth hanging open as I suddenly felt my seat begin to recline and realized Nicky was letting it back. She climbed on top of me, straddling me, grinding against me and moaning loudly. I probably should’ve felt victimized, considering she was the one who’d sworn off sex between us, but instead, I felt perplexed as fuck.
“Take off this damn costume, baby. Hurry…” Nicky murmured into my neck. That’s when my wits finally returned.
I shook my head. “Nick, hold on—”
“I can’t hold on, Damon!” she whined. “Come on, baby. Take this off…”
Her lips covered mine, her tongue dipped inside my mouth, and it took all the strength I could summon to push against her chest and snatch my mouth from her. “Nicole!” I thundered. “Stop!”
She jumped and fixed her eyes on me, her mouth open.
“Shit! What are you doing?”
Cocking her head to the side, she gave me a smirk. “After all these years, you don’t know?”
I sighed. “Nick, you said we couldn’t do this anymore.”
She shrugged. “I can’t help it. You just look so damn sexy in this costume.”
“What about that stuff you said in there…about us being together? You meant that?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“You said we’re gon’ be together and that I was your man. You meant that, too?”
She nodded again.
“Nick, you’re marrying Detective Tutuola, though.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know.”
“So I’m supposed to do what? Keep fucking you while you’re married to him?”
“Didn’t I already ask you that?”
“Yeah, and now I’m asking you. Is that what you expect me to do?”
“Yeah…I mean, if you want to.”
“Wow,” I scoffed.
“What?” she said innocently. “It could work.”
I turned and looked out the window, slowly shaking my head. “Get off me.”
I didn’t look at her, but could hear the confusion in her voice as she asked, “W-what?”
I faced her, looked her dead in the eye. “Get. Off. Me.”
She stared at me for a moment. “Are you mad?”
I chuckled wryly. “Why would I be mad
, Nick?”
“Y-you seem mad…”
“Would you be mad if I asked you to do some shit like that? To be my official and permanent side chick? Huh?”
She slid from my lap to the passenger’s seat, and as I inclined my seat, I said, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Let me get you home to Adam Schiff’s ass where you belong, because you damn sure don’t belong in this car tryna fuck me…not anymore.” I was angrier at myself than her, because I was the reason she expected me to go along with some moronic shit like that. After all, I’d been screwing her behind her fiancé’s back for months, because historically, I was mindless when it came to Nicky. But that shit was canceled. Over.
From the corner of my eye, I could see the tears rolling down her face. Maybe I’d hurt her feelings or humiliated her, or maybe she was upset about me rejecting her sexually for the first time…ever. I had no idea, and I also didn’t give a damn. I was done playing Nicky Strickland’s games, because my ass always ended up on the losing end. Always. If she wanted to marry that lame-ass lawyer, she could marry him, but I was done being her relief.
As I pulled up in front of her fiancé’s condo, I turned and looked at her. Her tears had stopped, but her eyes were slightly swollen and my anger had subsided a little. “How you gonna explain the outfit to him?” I asked.
She sighed heavily. “His car’s not on the lot. He’s not here. Still at work. I have time to change.”
I nodded. “Well, at least you don’t have to buy a wedding dress now.”
Nicky frowned deeply. “Huh?”
“You said you were gonna dress as Wonder Woman when you got married. Remember?”
She shook her head and dropped her eyes to the floorboard. “That was years ago, elementary school. How can you remember that?”
I shrugged. “How can I not?”
A loaded silence fell over us, something that was a rare occurrence for me and Nicky. After a couple of minutes, she broke it with, “Damon, thank you for today, but I think it’s best we just stop all contact. It’s too hard…”
“Yeah…I agree,” I said, with a slow nod.
Her eyes shot over to me. I had a feeling she was hoping I’d put up a fight, but I was past that with her. Her eyes left mine as she reached for the door handle.
“Nick, before you go, can I ask you something?”
She dropped her hand and turned to look at me, apprehension in her eyes. Slowly, she nodded.
“Why is it that you can’t forgive me enough to be with me, but you can forgive me enough to screw me? And don’t say sex isn’t emotional for us, because it is, has been for a long time.”
Her forehead creased as she turned toward the windshield. A minute or two later, she softly said, “I do forgive you, Damon. I just…I can’t forget. The pain won’t go away. The only time I don’t think about what happened or feel the pain from it is when we’re together like that. Everything bad goes away when we’re intimate. All I feel is good. Most days, it’s the only time I do feel any good in my life.” Her eyes found mine again.
My heart stammered in my chest. “If I could go back in time and change things, fix things, I would, Nick. I swear to God I would.”
She dropped her head. “I know you would. But…you can’t. You can’t.” And with that, she opened the door and headed toward the condo, leaving me feeling like I did twelve years ago when my decisions wrecked us beyond repair.
13
I sighed my relief audibly when the perky waitress reappeared, quickly lifting my empty champagne flute, alerting her of my need for another mimosa. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. McClure’s disapproving glare, but I gave exactly zero shits about it. If I was going to make it through this brunch meeting, I was going to have to be damn near drunk. The same applied to marrying her son.
What the hell am I doing?
I was so miserable, I couldn’t think straight. It’d been two weeks since Damon took me to the Comic-Con, which was also the last day I saw or heard from him, period. He hadn’t called or texted, respecting my wishes, and I couldn’t find the courage to make contact with him. So, there I sat as my mother, Travis’s mother, and Claire were hashing out last minute wedding details since the big day was rapidly approaching. Oh, and Travis’s younger sister, Piper, was there, too, offering her input for some unknown reason. I had pretty much checked out of the meeting, not really caring about the decisions that were being made anymore.
Because, shit…I was really marrying Travis McClure.
My stomach swirled at the thought of it all. How did I get here? What was I doing? Why the hell didn’t I stop this train wreck?
I didn’t have the answers to any of that. All I knew was the man I loved, the only man I’d ever loved, was also the only man who’d broken my heart, and he’d done such an efficient job of it that I couldn’t see through the fog of pain enough to stop what was an inevitable disaster. I wasn’t fooling myself. I knew this wouldn’t work with Travis. But I had to try. I had to at least attempt to move on, to be normal for once. I mean, I’d tried promiscuity, alcohol, a school addiction, and flat-out denial. None of that had erased the pain or my love for Damon. Maybe going full steam ahead with this sham of a marriage would.
It had to.
I really was unhappy, but at least I looked good in my black romper that was dotted with pink flowers and boasted long flouncy split sleeves. It was short and flirty and paired with matching pink leather ankle strap Kenneth Cole sandals, made my legs look kilometers long.
Damon would love me in this. Shit, he’d rip this sumbitch off me and screw me until I started singing the Negro National Anthem, have my ass singing soprano, alto, AND tenor.
I threw back my fresh mimosa and snickered at that thought.
My mom looked up at me and offered me a warm smile, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “Glad to see you so giddy about your wedding, sweetie.”
My eyes widened, and when I realized all eyes were on me, I nodded enthusiastically. “I am! Can’t wait to become Nicole Strickland-McClure!” I gushed that falsehood so convincingly, I almost believed it myself.
“You’re gonna make a beautiful bride, Nicky. My brother is truly a lucky man to have found you,” Piper said, with a huge smile on her face. I didn’t know her well, had only been around her a few times like when Travis and I went to family dinners, but of the McClures, she seemed the most genuine.
So I returned her smile. “Thanks, Piper.”
“Yes, well, I’m just glad this is almost over. It’s been most stressful for me, especially since we could only invite a few people to the actual nuptials due to the size of the church,” Travis’s mom huffed and shook her head.
If this bitch ain’t a broken record.
“Oh well,” I muttered.
Mrs. McClure’s mouth flew open, but before she could offer a rebuttal, Claire started talking about the rehearsal dinner. Mrs. McClure took to that segue, which was a good look for her, because I had just enough alcohol in me to curse her out properly.
When brunch was over, I was too tipsy to drive, so I had my mom drop me off at Travis’s, where I finished off a half-empty bottle of wine and slept the day and my misery away.
14
She played me again.
There I sat my ass at the table across from her…and him, feeling infuriated and uncomfortable as hell at the same time. And betrayed, extremely betrayed. She invited me to have dinner with her, damn near begged me to come. She never mentioned him, but there he was.
Shit. I knew better than to come here.
I blew out a breath, puffing my cheeks as I pushed the food around on my plate. Shrimp scampi with pasta was one of my favorites, but my damn appetite was nowhere to be found.
“You like it?” she asked. “I called and got the recipe from Lisa Strickland. I know you always loved her cooking.”
I was actually partial to Angie Strickland’s version of the dish, but gave my mom a nod, and said, “Yeah, it’s fine,” deadpan and without looking u
p at her.
Then this nigga decided to pipe up. “Then why aren’t you eating, son?”
Son? Did this motherfucker really just call me son? Was he serious?
I dropped my fork and squared my shoulders as my eyes met his. With raised eyebrows, I asked, “You really wanna know?”
“Uh-um, Lisa told me Nicky’s getting married?” Mama chimed in, trying to avoid the inevitable. I hated Kyle Davis’s deadbeat ass with a passion. Why she kept trying to put us in the same room was beyond me. Well, that wasn’t true. I knew for a fact these little family reunions always coincided with them fucking. They’d been divorced since I was a kid, but had this on-again, off-again sexual relationship that had been going on for years. And when it was on-again, the phone calls from my mom would start. I don’t know why I kept falling for this shit. I guess I wanted to believe she wanted to spend time with me for once and not just to reassemble this jacked-up family of ours.
“Yeah,” I finally answered her, my eyes still on my sorry-ass father.
“She said you’re in the wedding? Why haven’t you mentioned it to me?” my mom asked.
I shifted my eyes to her and shrugged. “When would I have told you? We don’t talk all that often.”
Her eyes scanned the room nervously. “You could call more. I-I wish you would.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know your schedule and I know you stay busy with work. So I just don’t bother.”
“Damon, you’re my son, my only child. I would love to hear from you more, no matter my schedule. I can stop whatever I’m doing to talk to you.”
Be with Me (Strickland Sisters Book 3) Page 7