by Sadie Grubor
"Did he hurt you?" he asks, his voice still rough, angry. His nostrils flare.
Why is that so damn hot?
"No," I shake my head.
Paul groans, holding his face.
"Shut up," Jackson barks. "You're lucky you aren't dead right now."
The police arrive twenty minutes later and take statements from all of us. Xavier stiffens when I tell them what Paul said and how he grabbed me. Jack snorts when I tell them about attacking him. Xavier admits to subduing him against the wall and punching him. Then, they talk to Zane, who doesn't keep his word.
Instead of saying he didn't see anything, he tells them how he heard Paul attacking me and the two men stepped in to protect me.
Afterward, they cuff Paul for harassment and violation of his restraining order.
When Paul complains about Xavier, they start reading him his rights. The look he shoots me makes me shudder.
I was such a fool. How could I fall for his bullshit for so long?
Xavier's arms come around me from behind. He guides me into my apartment and to the bedroom.
Releasing me, he comes around to stand in front of me. He grabs the hem of my shirt and drags it up my body.
"What are you doing?" I cross my arms on my chest to hold the shirt down.
"You have blood on your shirt, tiger." He palms my face, sweeping his thumb over my cheek.
"Oh," I say, dropping my arms and allowing him to strip it off.
He throws the shirt across the room and when it lands on the floor, I break, like the shirt was the only thing holding back my emotions.
My body jerks and a cry escapes my throat. Reflexively covering my mouth with my hand, I wrap my other arm around my bare stomach.
Xavier pulls both my hands from my body and tugs me against him.
His arms wrap around me, one hand going to my head and the other to the middle of my back.
Sobs wrack my body and tears pour from my eyes, catching at the corner of my mouth. I wrap my arms around his waist and fist his t-shirt, using his strength to hold myself up.
Laying his cheek to the top of my head, he lightly rocks me.
"I've got you," he whispers.
I grip his shirt so hard, my knuckles ache.
"I've got you, tiger."
My arms tighten around his body and I bury my face in his chest.
We show up at Mom and Dad's almost an hour late.
Mom rushes toward me, smothering me in one of her hugs. Dad stands on the porch. The closer we get to him, the more I can see the worry lining his face.
"It's okay," I assure him.
In a rare touchy-feely moment, my father steals me away from my mother and pulls me into his arms. Mom steps away, excusing herself back into the house.
"I don't know what I would've done if he…" he doesn't finish, emotion choking him.
Unable to handle my daddy feeling so helpless and emotional, I say, "Don't worry, I kicked his ass."
Dad chuckles, releasing me.
"Hell yeah, she did," Jackson praises. "I totally thought Xavier had done the damage."
"That's my little badass." Dad lightly punches my arm.
His eyes move to Xavier, appraising him for a moment. You can practically see the moment he makes a decision about this large, tattooed, hairy beast of a man.
"Mr. Campbell," Xavier speaks first, offering my father his hand.
"Call me Marc," Dad responds, taking the hand and shaking. "It seems I have a lot to thank you for and I'm only just meeting you."
"Don't do it," I warn, closing my eyes in a silent prayer.
"I'm sorry?" Xavier says, confused.
"Well, not only has my sex life suddenly spiked in activity, but you also were there for my little girl," Dad explains.
"And, you did it," I groan. "I'm telling Mom," I threaten. "I hope she holds out until your balls mummify," I grumble, stalking into the house.
"Uncle Marc," Liza laughs, following me inside.
"I wondered where Sid got her personality," Jackson announces, following my father and Xavier into the house.
"I can't take all the credit," my dad says. "Give her mother a drink and a few moments to get comfortable."
"Are you blaming our daughter on me again?" Mom bursts from the kitchen, a baking pan in her mitt-covered hands.
"Why am I something to be blamed for?" I ask. "You should be fighting over being responsible for my amazingness."
"And this is why we stopped at one," my dad deadpans.
I gasp and narrow my eyes.
"Mom, Dad was telling us about your increased sexual activity," I tattle, keeping my eyes on him.
"What?" she screeches, setting the pan on the table a bit too hard.
Crossing my arms on my chest, I grin wide at my father.
He shrugs and points to Xavier.
"I'll just have him talk to her for a while and reap the benefits later."
"Do you know how gross that is?" I put my hands out in front of me.
He shrugs again.
Lucas, Sean, and Kel take this moment to come down from the second floor of the house.
"Is dinner—" Kel covers Lucas' mouth.
Giving up on my dad, I turn to my red-faced mom.
"You can't fantasize about the guy I'm having sex with," I scold. "It's just gross."
Xavier snorts.
Jackson and the boys laugh.
Liza giggles.
She covers her face with a mitted hand.
"Why can't we have normal family dinners?" she mumbles, going back into the kitchen.
"Because you're a dirty slut, Mom," I call after her.
Looking over my shoulder at Xavier, I wink and stick out my tongue.
His eyes are wide and lips sucked into his mouth.
My dad slaps him on the shoulder, and says, "I hope you realize what you're dealing with."
"I'm starting to wonder," Xavier says, earning my glare.
"It will take one hell of a man," Dad informs him.
"Don't worry, Dad. Xavier's on board," I announce.
Xavier raises a brow, silently questioning.
"You basically signed up in saliva when you licked it," I say with a nice dose of duh, asshole!.
"Jesus," Dad groans.
Xavier drops his chin to his silently shaking chest.
"I've really missed you, Sid," Lucas states, taking a seat at the dining room table.
"Aww, thanks, buddy," I croon, taking a seat next to him. "Let's have meatloaf."
Xavier
"I have to admit, this has been one the most interesting family dinners," I confess.
"Yeah, that's one way to put it," Jackson sort of agrees and lifts his beer to his lips.
My phone vibrates against my leg.
Pulling it out, I continue, "Watching and listening to Sid with her parents concerns me."
Swiping the screen, I click on an image message from Em.
"Why's that?" Jack asks.
"I see them, but—fuck!" Growling, I stand and turn, looking for Sid.
"What's wrong?" Jack pushes off the couch.
Extending my arm, I hold out my phone, showing him the photo Em just sent me.
"Shit." He takes the phone for closer examination. "Is this from the airport?"
"In Miami, yeah," I confirm, taking my phone back.
I glance down at the photo of me practically face fucking Sid in the departure terminal—an image that surfaced on a popular gossip site and is now spreading across social media. It's not the image that bothers me. The comments people are making is another thing.
"Hey, man, don't get too freaked out," his hand clasps my shoulder, "Sid's a tough girl. I doubt this is going to cause a problem."
"Did you see what they wrote?" I scoff, knowing most women would be hurt reading, Why would someone as hot as him want someone like her? And Is this real or one of those charity photos like Make a Wish. And an even more hateful, Hope he stays on top so she doesn't crush him.
Swallowing the nervous lump in my throat, I reach out and cup her face.
Her brow furrows, eyes shift to Jackson, then back to me, and she pushes my hand away.
"What the hell is going on?" she snaps.
"Everything okay?" Her father joins us in the living room, followed by her mother.
"There's a picture floating around," I start.
"And?" she presses.
Holding up the phone, I show her the photo.
Her eyes widen. She takes the phone from my hand, zooming in and out, and then scrolls down to the comments. Sid's brow furrows, her mouth bunches to one side, and then she laughs.
"Oh my God!" she exclaims, making me blink.
"What is it?" Liza joins the mix, grabbing Sid's hand and turning the phone toward her.
"I'm going viral," she brags, using her left hand to give devil's horns.
"Told you," Jackson mumbles.
"Told him what?" Sid asks.
"I thought you'd be a bit more bothered by…" I explain, motioning to the phone.
"That there's photographic proof of your tongue in my mouth?" She looks at me like I've lost my mind. "You do realize this puts me on the highest level of vag-swag."
"Vag-swag?" her mother questions.
"Baby, you should know better than to ask these things," Sid's father says, putting an arm around his wife.
"You're right," Charlene states, quickly adding, "never mind, I don't want to know."
Sid cradles my cell in both hands, tapping her thumbs on the screen.
"What are you doing?" I step closer and look down into her hands.
"Sending it to myself, duh," she retorts.
She shoves the phone to my chest and I reach up on reflex, holding her hand there.
"Calm down, fuzz-face," she slips her hand out from beneath mine, "I've been called worse."
This announcement pisses me off more.
She turns and gives her parents a hug and kiss before grabbing both our coats. She holds my gray coat out to me. When I don't take it, she shakes it in my face.
"I'll drop it like it's hot, drop it like it's hot," she sings.
Snatching it out of her hand, I slip my arms in and pull it over my shoulders.
Sid wraps her black jacket around her body and secures the buttons.
Her eyes rise to mine.
"Are you going to pout all night?" Her face twists in distaste before sighing. "Geez, I'm the one they called a sympathy fuck, not you. I should be the one angry, not—"
"Why aren't you?" I rumble.
Exhaling loudly, she crosses her arms over her puffy coat.
"You know, after finding out about…" she visibly swallows and fidgets, "the college incident, I'd think you are well aware that I've dealt with being called much, much worse. Narrow-minded people like that," she motions to the cell clutched in my hand, "don't register on my hate-dar."
Not giving a shit that her family is witnessing the moment, I advance. In one long stride, I reach out and grab her by the back of the head. Fisting her hair, I tilt her face to mine.
"I hate the way you just accept it," I grumble.
"Fat girls are used to superficial judgments," she whispers.
"Don't," I warn, tightening my hold on her hair, not enough to hurt her, just enough to get my point across.
Her tongue peeks out, wetting her lips.
"It's okay," she reassures, but her eyes tell another story.
Emotions storm in her blue eyes, strength battling against pain and hurt.
"Tiger, I'm so thankful you're strong enough to brush this shit off, but it's not, nor will it ever be, okay for anyone to talk about you that way," I inform.
There's a small jerk to her body, a nervous movement. Her eyes glance to our observers and then back to me.
"Okay," she concedes, placing her hands on my chest and patting.
She's fucking placating me.
Stowing my phone in the pocket of my coat, I take her face in both my hands and lock my eyes on hers, keeping them captive, making sure I have her full attention.
"Christ, Sid, you smell like the best summer day, look like the wickedest thing I could ever choose to sin with, and sound like the best fucking porno soundtrack when I'm deep inside you."
The air between us grows thicker, heavier, and, I swear to God, sweeter.
Her mouth parts on a shaky breath. Chest heaving, she bites her bottom lip.
"Oh my," Sid's mother says on a breath.
A throat clears from behind me and our surroundings return.
The gleam flashing in her eyes gives away her evil intentions. If there's anything I know for sure about Sid, it's her habit of using humor to hide her emotions.
"AVN Award worthy?" she asks, making me smile.
Licking my lips, I bring my face closer, and whisper, "No, 'cause I'm the only fucking one who's gonna hear it."
"Well, the boy definitely knows how to speak to her," Sid's father states.
"He sure does," her mother sighs.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sidra
I'm thankful for Lucas and Sean's sugar high, courtesy of my mother's mile high chocolate cake with three layers of chocolate mousse and fudge icing. Their noise distracts Liza and Xavier from noticing my silence.
The words swim in my head. A photo that isn't much to anyone else, but is a moment more profound than I want to admit, being shredded under the scrutiny of anonymous gawkers. Hidden behind a keyboard, human nature can turn its ugliest. It's all too reminiscent of another time I was exposed to the public eye, but I can't help but wonder if they aren't right.
Why would he choose to be with someone like me?
I'm not conventionally pretty or L.A. gorgeous, my figure would only ever star in the before photo of a weight loss commercial, and for Christ's sake, my foul mouth and penchant for porn are only amusing in small doses.
I shift in the back seat of the chauffeured van, putting an inch between Xavier and my body. Staring out the window, I close my eyes and let the comments run through my head once more.
I peak at Xavier from the corner of my eye and try looking at him objectively.
All the hair should turn me off, I've never dug long hair or beards, but it doesn't. His strong jaw and defined cheekbones carry the look well.
I used to make fun of idiots who tattooed their faces, and while his tattoos swirl at the shaved sides of his head, they should be close enough to make me think they're stupid—but they don't.
I can't use his large build against him. I'm a big girl, so a big guy just makes sense. The difference with Xavier is he's not just big, he's muscular big. Like bulked-up, rolling, sinewy muscle with a flat stomach. But there's no intimidating six pack or that crazy V bullshit that, while hot, is equally threatening to a woman of my size. I've never seen one of my stomach muscles, so seeing all of them on a guy I want to get naked with…yeah, it kills my confidence.
Then, there are his thick thighs, which feel absolutely amazing between mine.
Wrap all this up in a mature rock star persona, who also borderline matches my humor, and I'm…
Internally groaning, I flit my eyes back to the window.
I'm so fucked.
This man turns me upside down, makes me feel like the only woman in the room, and sees through me. He shouldn't be with me, but he'll never let me push him away.
Closing my eyes again, it's not the comments that invade my thoughts. It's the memory of his words—words he spoke like he didn't give a fuck who was in the room or heard him.
What the hell do I do with this, with him?
I jump when his hand lands on my thigh.
"Get out of that messed up head of yours," he says, nodding toward the window.
Busted. Damn him!
"We're here." He releases my leg.
Realizing the van has stopped, I peer out the window and see my building.
/> "We're going to the zoo tomorrow," Liza says as I climb out. "I'll call you in the morning to see if you want to go."
"Okay." I force a smile and give her a thumbs up.
Her eyes lined with worry, she mouths, "Call me," as the driver closes the door.
I give a wave and watch my cousin and her family disappear down the street.
"You going to share what's got you so wound tight?" Xavier asks, putting an arm around my shoulders and guiding me into the building.
"Nope," I answer, moving out from under his arm and hurrying up the stairs.
He doesn't linger, keeping up with me.
Inside my apartment, I drop my bag and keys on the table just inside my door.
"Sid?" His fingers graze my arm.
"Yeah?" I step away from the touch, moving to my computer desk and sitting down.
"I didn't mean to freak you out," he blurts.
"You didn't," I lie, keeping my eyes on the monitor.
He growls, but I ignore that too.
Bringing up my budgeting spreadsheet, I review sales figures and expenses. There isn't really anything for me to review, but I need space—and space is the one thing he doesn't understand.
His body fills my peripheral and his hand lands on the arm of my chair.
"I need you not to do that," I say, my voice robotic.
He stills, his fingers still on the chair.
"I know you don't get it, but I'm used to being alone, having space."
I keep my eyes on the monitor and suck my bottom lip into my mouth, hoping it will keep the tears at bay. There are too many feelings—too much him. The comments, the photo, the familiarity, and his words.
My fingers fly across my keyboard, calling up customer service and logistics reports. I don't see anything, just the flow of opening and closing documents, the keys beneath my fingers the only thing centering my emotions.
His hand slips from the chair before he walks away.
His footsteps echo down my small hallway and silence when he enters another room.
Stilling my fingers, I glance at the hall, press my lips together tightly, and allow one tear to escape. I'm pushing him away and even knowing it, I can't find the will to stop.
Maybe it's for the best.
Xavier
Everything inside me wants to grab her, shake her, and then kiss her until it's all better. Deep down, I can feel it's more than just the photo. There's something going on in her head making her shut down, and every time she pushes me away it hurts.