by Scott, S. L.
His palm rests on my chest, and he kisses my shoulder. “C’mere.” Snuggling into his side, our breath is heard, our hearts beating together, our souls tangled up in each other. “I love you.”
A few minutes pass when his body eases over mine, and he kisses me as he positions himself between my legs. Looking into my eyes, he says, “My whole world is right here.”
“My universe,” I whisper. Pushing in, he presses his lips to mine, and I swallow his heavy exhale, wanting everything he’ll give me. When we part, I repeat, “I love you.”
The words fade into low moans; our eyes are open, each of us not wanting to miss a moment of this. Our bodies move together as we reach for our release. “I want us to come together.”
“We will.” Dropping his head to my shoulder, he moves his body with determination. “I’ll make you feel like you make me feel. So good, baby.”
Using his shoulders for leverage, I meet him thrust for thrust, his erection hitting me in all the right places every time we push together. I start to fall over the edge, my mind focused on the sensations of lust and love. On him. Losing track of time and myself, he consumes me.
Tulsa.
Tulsa.
“Tulsa.”
We finish strong, and together. He collapses on top of me, and I hold him tightly. Kissing the side of his neck, I whisper once more, “I love you.”
Moving off me, he falls on his back. “Why? Why do you love me, Nikki?” How can he not know?
“That’s easy to answer.” I run my hands up his neck and into his hair. “I love you because you make my heart feel full.”
“That’s my job as your husband. Heart-filler. Supporter of dreams. Love maker.” He winks, which makes me smile, matching how I feel inside.
“How did I get so lucky?”
“It’s not luck, darlin’. It’s meant to be just like this.”
I curl against his side, resting one of my legs on his, my arm over his middle. The beat of his heart, strong and steady, giving me solace here in his small apartment, in his bed, our bed, that holds the faint scent of him. My senses are comforted, my body relaxed. “Meant to be,” I whisper, and kiss his shoulder as my eyes grow heavy.
He kisses the top of my head, and whispers, “Sweet dreams.”
* * *
“Are you sleeping?”
“I’m awake.”
He sounds too awake for the hour. “Thinking about Berk?”
“Yeah.” He rolls to his side, and with the moonlight filtering in through the blinds, I can see the worry in his eyes.
Massaging his scalp gently, I try to comfort him. “Laird used to tell me I was a bonus baby my parents won in a raffle at the hospital.” The memory makes me laugh. “I shouldn’t find it as funny as I do, but I guess I can because I always knew it was a joke.”
“I’ve never questioned who my parents were. My mom was the best,” he says with a soft smile that comes from reminiscing. “It didn’t matter that our father left. Honestly, we barely noticed. He came back a couple of times over the years, but my mom wouldn’t take him back. He was an alcoholic who used to pick fights with us an hour after declaring he was home. Eventually, he stopped coming around. That’s what I remember about him.” Running his hand along the dip of my waist, he watches me with a tinge of betrayal in his eyes. “My mom was all we needed.”
“I’m sorry.” I wish I could give him more than an apology. For him, I’m sorry his mom’s no longer here, and that this mess has landed at his front door.
The heat of his palm warms my cheek as he caresses me. “She would have loved you. You have all the qualities she would want for her sons. Spirited—”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” I laugh. “I’ve been called worse, so spirited is an upgrade.”
His smile sours. “What are you talking about? What have you been called?” He seems to answer his own question silently, then adds, “He’s a fucker. I’m glad you have security at the shows, but I’ve been wondering if you need more.”
“I’m not going to live in a bubble. It’s not like I’m some huge star.”
“I’m your biggest fan, sweetheart, but I worry about the psychos.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I love the feel of his scruff under my fingertips. “I can handle myself.”
He exhales a deep breath. “I know you can. I just . . . it’s bullshit. You shouldn’t have to. What if I can’t protect you?”
I see sadness, disappointment, and anger. The three emotions slide over him and change the mood between us. Sitting up, Tulsa swings his legs over the side. “I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore. All because some asshole showed up and made me question everything I thought I knew.” He drops his head into his hands. “Why did you marry me?”
How can he even ask that? I now understand that even though he’s always been cocky, it doesn’t mean he thought of himself as marriage material. When he proposed to me, there wasn’t even a choice. I knew my answer was yes in that instant. But we’d only known each other for six weeks, so his question is valid.
Why did I say yes?
And the answer is quite simple when I really stop to think.
He loved me. I wasn’t the county beauty queen. I wasn’t the lead singer of Faris Wheel. I wasn’t the smart-mouthed bad girl ready to be reshaped. He loved me. I was, and am, just me, Nikki Faris, and he believed I was enough.
“There are many answers to that question, but essentially it’s because you took the time to get to know me. You validated me, Tulsa. I feel cherished for the first time. I knew my heart was safe with you.” I smile at him and kiss him softly on the lips. “But then . . . it’s also because, in every way, you make sure I get mine before you get yours. And I’m not just talking sexually; although there is that, too.”
He looks back at me, the moonlight showing a twinkle in his eyes. “Getting you off gets me off.” His gaze follows the curve of my body. “But for real. You didn’t even hesitate to marry me. Why?”
“Because I’m in love with you.”
He turns back around, so I move to his side of the bed and lean my chest on his back, resting my chin on his shoulder. With my arms around his middle, I whisper, “I’ve never been so comfortable to be myself than I am with you. It doesn’t matter if we’re singing mindlessly to the radio or publicly making out at monuments around the country. I can crack stupid jokes or argue a point, and you let me without judgment or contempt, competition, or the need to belittle me. With you, I can have opinions that matter. To most men, I’ve always felt as if I was just a pretty face.”
“Your opinions matter to me.”
“I know because you don’t just tell me how you care about me. You show me.”
“Selfish confession coming. I like going down on you because I like the way you react to me. It’s like the first time every time when we’re together.”
“No one’s ever done it before.”
He looks back at me. “No one?” I shake my head. “That’s crazy. Watching you come is as good as coming myself.”
“I know that now, thanks to you.”
He reaches behind him and holds my back, keeping me pressed against him. “Just like men, women are sexual beings.”
“Oh, I know. Trust me. I’ve said some horribly naughty things about you to Lauralee. And you’d never want to be exposed to the thoughts I have about you. My mind’s a really perverted place when it comes to you and those veins.”
He moves his forearms in front of him and gives them a twist, checking out those sexy things. “Your obsession with my veins should concern me.”
“Should?”
“I’m not worried.” I finally see the smile that melts me when he spins around and, in one quick motion, anchors me beneath him again, exactly where I love to be. “Your fascination with all parts of me turns me on.” I love the weight of him on top of me, and I realize something else I hadn’t understood until now. I am his equal. He calls me his queen, but I am his equal, and becaus
e of that, I feel both adored and safe. I’ve never felt more secure than I do when I’m with him. “Now about those horribly naughty thoughts of yours . . .”
* * *
Shutting the front door, I flip through several keys until I find the one that fits the lock. I turn it and then memorize the number on the door, so I remember which apartment is Tulsa’s when I return.
I round the corner of the building to where he parked last night but then stop. Dark hair. Fake tan. Super short skirt and cowboy boots. A woman leaning against the Bronco looks up, adjusts her hat, and smiles. “Hi,” she says, waving as if she owes me an explanation. “I’m just waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“A friend. It’s only ten, so I thought I’d wait here until he’s up.”
As soon as I notice The Crow Bros hat she’s wearing, my friendliness fades, and my claws come out. With a hand on my hip, I snap, “For Tulsa?”
“Yeah?” she replies with hope in her eyes until the poor thing catches on to what’s really happening. Her gaze flows behind me as it all becomes clear. “Oh. Are you and him . . .”
I hate jealousy. I hate the feeling. I hate the defensive mode it puts me in, but I really hate when women turn against each other when it can be avoided. I take a deep breath and try to release my annoyance. Walking toward her, I reach out to shake her hand. “Hi.”
A smile replaces the stray cat look in her eyes as she takes my hand. “Sassie with an I-E. So you know Tulsa?”
I’m tempted to say Nikki with an I, but I don’t. “I’m Nikki. Yeah, Tulsa’s still sleeping.” Taking a step, I visually scan the truck from tires to mirror, kicking the rubber like I know what I’m doing. “I was going out for coffee.” Call me a masochist, or maybe I’m just caught off guard in a good mood, but I ask, “Want to come along?”
Her head jolts back. “Are you serious?”
Walking around the truck, I reply, “Sure am.” After opening the door, I step up and look at her over the top. “Hop in.”
“Okaaay.”
I unlock the passenger door, and she opens it. “It’s a big step up. There’s a handle to help if you need it. Cute skirt by the way.”
“Thanks.” Before she climbs in, she asks, “Is this a setup? I mean, why are you being so nice?”
“Because I think sometimes women are too mean to each other.” Leaning on the steering wheel, I add, “I assume you and my h-Tulsa have been together. Because I’m with him now doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a past. I’m also pretty sure I’m a surprise to you too.” I start the engine. “Hopefully that doesn’t make us enemies.”
Not the happiest of surprises by the disappointment on her face. She climbs into the cab anyway and buckles up. “I was kind of hoping you were a visiting cousin or something, or maybe with Rivers.”
I’m not sure what to say. Is there really anything more to say anyway? When I back out, I ask, “Do you know where a Starbucks or coffee shop is around here? I was just going to drive around until I found one.”
“You’re not from Austin?”
“Nope. California.”
“Take a right out of the parking lot.” I drive, and she tells me to take another street, which appears to be a busier road. “Up on the right.”
I see the iconic green and white sign and drive toward it like a moth to a flame.
She says, “He used to have rules.”
“Rules?” I ask, pulling into the drive-thru.
Rifling through her purse, she pulls out some money. “I’d like a Caffe Americano.”
“I haven’t had that before.”
“Low in calories but packs an espresso punch. I’m careful about what I eat. I work too hard to stay in shape to blow it with meaningless calories.”
When I first saw her, everything fake popped out, but I realize how wrong I was to judge her so quickly. She’s actually quite nice. I pay for the coffees. The company wasn’t half bad. “You mentioned rules earlier.”
“No one is allowed to stay at his place. I’ve never even seen the inside.” She takes a sip, and adds, “You’re staying with him?”
“I am.” I don’t feel guilty for telling the truth, but I wish there was something I could say so she doesn’t feel bad.
So, as I trouble my bottom lip, she says, “You’re just his type.”
“Really?” Visually, I’m opposite from her in so many ways. Hair color. Eye color. She’s much smaller than I am in height and definitely in amazing shape, though I’m more fit than most women. I’d wear that skirt, and we’re both tan, though I prefer a natural one to the spray.
I guess maybe what ties us together is Tulsa. She says, “You’re really pretty, and friendly. I can see why he likes you.”
Not quite sure what to say to that, I go with a simple “Thanks.”
Parking in the same spot from earlier, I cut the engine and sit back. “Want to come in?” I know I shouldn’t, that Tulsa won’t be happy, but it seems rude not to ask.
“I should go.” She hops out and shuts the door.
I come around and adjust my purse across my body. “It was nice to meet you, Sassie. I’ll let Tulsa know you came by.”
Swinging her boot over the gravel, she grins. “Don’t worry about it. You’re too nice, so I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
I know what she means. It could go either way, and I don’t want to waste any of our day with petty arguments.
“Have a good one.” She walks to her blue hatchback.
“You too.” Before she gets in, I call, “Hey, Sassie, do you know where I can get a pair of boots like yours?”
“I work part-time over at Cavender’s on South Lamar. Come see me, and I’ll fix you right up.”
“Thanks.”
As I walk back to the apartment, sipping my coffee, I realize how much things have changed. Or maybe I’m the one who’s changing.
I could have shunned her or claimed Tulsa as mine, but I didn’t have to. She did nothing wrong, just like he didn’t. He has a past like I do. I don’t have a right to hold it against him.
With a big, goofy grin on my face, I open the door, knowing that the man on the other side is my future and I’m his. Nothing and no one can change that.
31
Tulsa
“How do we know he’s not coming around now just because we’re gaining fame?” I ask my brothers over lunch at a restaurant near Jet’s house. “And how’d he know we were back?”
“It’s easy to track our whereabouts. It’s all over social media,” Rivers says. “As for why now . . . that’s been bugging me too.”
Jet sits back, and says, “Some people will do anything for a share of something they don’t deserve.”
Hannah closes her eyes, shaking her head. I’m not sure if it’s the topic of conversation or what, but she has no patience when she says, “Anyone that can stake a claim will eventually crawl out of the woodwork wanting a share of your earnings.” This is definitely a hot button for her. She sets her fork on the side of her plate and crumples her napkin. Her family put her through a lot over the years. So much so she doesn’t speak to her aunt anymore. “It’s unbelievable what people will do for money.”
Jet covers her hand while looking at me. “People want their fifteen minutes of fame. How do we know what to believe with this guy? Just because he’s in a photo holding you doesn’t make him your father.”
With a tortilla chip in hand, Rivers asks, “What if you just leave it? Do you think you can?”
“It’s going to stick with me. It’s already fucking with my head.”
“Here’s what I think. Something’s off about his story. He shows up out of the blue with nothing more than an old photo and the names of our parents. I’m going to do some digging.” After setting his soda down, Jet appeals to Nikki, “In the meantime, two days. That’s all you have before we fly to Chicago. Take my brother out and make him forget his worries.”
That devilish smile shows up bright as a lit marquee on her f
ace, drawing all of my attention. “If I want him to forget his worries, I won’t be taking him out.”
Rivers chuckles. “She’s like a girl version of Tulsa. How is it possible they found each other?”
I reply with a waggle of my eyebrows, “Kismet.”
With her head on my shoulder, she laughs. The waitress brings the check, and Jet grabs it first. “My treat. Now go have some fun.”
After we walk out, she lowers her sunglasses from her head to cover her eyes and spins with her arms wide open. “What do you want to do? Anything. Name it.”
“Two days is not enough for all I want to do to you.”
She responds with an elbow to my ribs. “You are the horniest guy I’ve ever met.”
“It’s the company.” Grabbing her around the waist, she squeals when I lift her off her feet.
When I set her down in front of my truck, she says, “We never talked about you getting arrested.”
“The charges were dropped. What’s there to talk about?”
“Just making sure you’re okay. I mean, I would have been scared.”
I laugh. “It was nothing. Even if they didn’t drop the charges, what would I have been held for? Impersonating myself? She overreacted by calling security, but at the same time, I don’t know, I kind of find some relief in the fact that not just anyone is given a key to our rooms.”
“That’s true.”
“Also, they would have had to stun gun me fifty times over if you were being arrested. I’m glad Rochelle got you out of there.”
“I was scared for you and worried.”
Kissing her cheek, I say, “You don’t have to worry about me, darlin’. I can handle myself, but I appreciate the concern.”
“I know you can.” Taking my face in her hands, she smiles while looking up at me. “Do you know how sexy it is to say my husband’s a dangerous criminal?”
“Lord, woman, you have the strangest fetishes.” Opening the door, I nod toward the truck. When she climbs up, I slap her ass. “That ass is mine the rest of the day.”