Be My Forever: A BWWM Romance (Make It Marriage Book 2)

by Nia Arthurs

  The sloshing sound is the only thing I can hear above my deep breathing.

  I’m still trying to keep it together.

  Trying to remember that she’s not a kid.

  She’s a grown woman. An adult.

  One who can come and go as she pleases.

  Who makes her own decisions.

  Even stupid ones. Like leaving the house at night when someone is threatening her.

  I can’t yell at her just because she pissed me off.

  Just because I’m jealous.

  Venus takes the wine and the glasses into the living room. Sinks into the couch. Motions for me to join her.

  I sit. Accept the glass from her.

  Our fingers touch.

  Skin sliding against skin.

  My body lights up.

  Everything I wanted to feel with Charisma and didn’t.

  “How was your date?” Her voice is low. Casual. As if my answer means absolutely nothing.

  “Why?”

  “I’m your matchmaker, remember? I ask these things.”

  “You’re not on the clock right now.”

  “I’m always on the clock.”

  “Not with me.”

  “I’m asking as a friend.”

  I glance up. “Who was the convertible?”

  “You first.”

  “Date was nice. Convertible?”

  “An ex.”

  I try to hold a poker face. I don’t know how well I’m doing.

  “What else?” She kicks her heels off. Faces me. “It was just nice?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you seeing her again?”

  “Save the analysis for tomorrow.”

  She smiles. It softens her face. Lights up her eyes.

  Looking at her, it feels like a giant wrench just pinched my heart.

  I’m so freaking gone.

  I frown. “I thought something happened when I got home and didn’t see you. You should have texted.”

  She flutters a hand. “Sorry.”

  “Sounds genuine.”

  She chuckles. Sets the glass down. Scoots over to me.

  I lean back.

  Venus tilts her head. “Did you...?”

  “What?”

  “Take her home?”

  “We drove separately.”

  Her eyebrows narrow. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

  I give her a slow once-over. “What are you asking?”

  “Something private.”

  “As a matchmaker?”

  “As a friend.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I didn’t sleep with her.”

  Happiness flits across her face. Then it’s gone. Back to open scrutiny. “Did you try anything else?”

  “Like?”

  She moves closer to me.

  Her fingertips skim the back of my knuckles. “This.”

  Just like that, my body responds.

  Her hand’s on top of mine.

  It’s nothing.

  Just a simple graze.

  But I feel that touch everywhere.

  Feel heat spreading south.

  Throbbing in my pants.

  My voice is rough. “No.”

  Another scoot.

  Her leg presses against mine.

  “What about her? Did she try”—her palm reaches out. Slides up my thigh. Dangerously close to somewhere it shouldn’t be—“this?”

  My heart is pounding.

  My chest can barely contain it.

  It’s taking all my self-restraint to stay still. To keep my hands where I can see them. Not disappearing somewhere that would get me into trouble.

  I dig my fingers into the couch. “No.”

  She pulls back suddenly. Then yawns. Her hand settles around my shoulder. “Not even this old trick?”

  “Her?”

  “You.”

  “No.”

  “Hm.”

  “I’m a gentleman.”

  She smirks. Leans closer. Her breath warms my ear. “You’ve got no game.”

  It’s a tease.

  We both know that’s not true.

  She’s smiling.

  Border-line giddy.

  She’s happy I didn’t touch Charisma.

  I need to know the reason.

  Damn.

  No I don’t.

  “What about you?” I arch an eyebrow.

  “It wasn’t a date.”

  “He was an ex.”

  “So?”

  I feather one of her curls with my thumb. Comb it behind her ear. Let the side of three fingers caress her cheekbone. “Did he…?”

  “Maybe.”

  Envy colors my voice. “Kiss you?”

  “Tonight? No.”

  “Something else?”

  “Demonstrate.” She closes her eyes. Tilts her chin up.

  I stare at her.

  My fingers tremble.

  She wants to play this game, but I know my limits.

  The moment I touch her…

  It’ll get real.

  I can’t flirt with fire.

  I run straight through the blaze.

  “Forget it.” I inch back.

  She follows me. Wraps her slender fingers around my neck. Yanks me down.

  Plump lips collide with my cheek.

  Her eyes flutter closed.

  Her chest brushes my upper arm.

  Dark fingers slide down to my collar bone.

  That sweet, sweet mouth…

  She pulls back. Stares at me through half-hooded eyes. “That’s all we did.”

  “You kiss every guy like that?”

  She tilts her head. Plays innocent. “Like what?”

  Like she wants to be dragged to the nearest bedroom and ravished.

  My tongue trips over itself.

  “You know,” Venus’s voice fills the silence, “I had the biggest crush on you growing up.”

  I lick my lips.

  Where is she going with this?

  She laughs. “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “Subtle isn’t your style.”

  “True.” She sighs. “For a long time, I wanted you to be my first kiss. Did you know that?”

  News to me. “No.”

  She bobs her head. “It’s true.” Another tinkling laugh. “I waited and waited, but then I said screw it and just got it over with.”

  I flinch. “You made the right choice. Even if things were different, I’d still be eight years older.”

  “So? Your age doesn’t bother me.” She shrugs. “Neither does your past. Or your broodiness.”

  “My broodiness?”

  She brushes my shoulder with her fingers. “I knew everything about you—the good and the bad—but I still chose you.”

  Damn. Those words.

  I didn’t even know how much I wanted to hear them.

  Yeah, it’s history.

  But it still means something.

  “If I had to do it all over again—teenaged angst and all—I’d still choose you.”

  “Venus…”

  She looks up at me with those dark eyes. “I know.”

  Does she? There are a crap-ton of reasons why this can’t happen.

  Evan.

  Her job.

  My sanity.

  She smiles up at me. “I just… I thought you should hear it. At least once. You’re—”

  I smother her lips with mine.

  She’s soft.

  Supple.

  Impatient.

  Her touch electrifies my body. My heart. My head. My veins.

  My hands slide down her lower back.

  I drag her body against mine.

  Kiss her fiercely.

  Intently.

  Damn, she’s so sweet. Like wine. Like Venus.

  Her mouth parts with a soft moan.

  Her nails scrape against my scalp.

  Her fingers press into my back, leaving delicious indentations.

  It’s lik
e she’s been saving up for this.

  Like every private longing is snapping free and pouring all over me.

  My hands rove her body.

  Eager.

  Out of control.

  One hand slips under her blouse.

  She gasps as my fingers graze her torso.

  She climbs into my lap. Straddles me. Rocks her hips against mine. Digs her fingers into the collar of my shirt for balance.

  There are only a few layers of fabric between us.

  It’s far too much.

  I need her on her back in the sofa, looking up at me like I’m everything she’s ever wanted.

  Because she’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

  In the background, a cell phone peals.

  Venus holds me tighter in response ignore it.

  I’m happy to do so.

  The ringing is incessant.

  It shrieks and pierces the air, demanding attention.

  Venus rolls off me with a sigh. “You should get that.”

  I run a hand down my face. Nod.

  My cell phone is in the kitchen.

  As I walk to get it, I wonder if I should thank the person on the other end or cuss them out.

  Maybe both.

  With each step, reality pounds into my head.

  Venus just…

  I…

  We crossed a line.

  A major one.

  I can’t double back from that.

  Not without…

  I don’t know.

  What the hell did I just do?

  I rub my forehead.

  Lean over the table.

  Spot the name blaring across my cell phone screen.

  “Is it Evan?” Venus yells from the living room with a note of I’m going to kill him ringing in her voice.

  “No.” I glance up. “It’s Teale.”

  Her expression stalls.

  I lift the phone and answer. “Hello?”

  “Troy.”

  “Hey. Did you find Meeks’ location?”

  He pauses. “Yes… we need to talk.”

  Twenty-Two

  Venus

  There’s a glass of water next to Troy’s computer. A handsome man fills the screen. He’s got stunning blue eyes and the kind of bad-boy good looks that can melt hearts and panties.

  Not that I’d throw mine into the fray.

  I’ve got my own underwear-melting hunk right in front of me.

  Case in point.

  I just slipped away to change while Troy set up a video-conference with Teale.

  Sexy times are over.

  Now that I’m in shorts and a tank top, I can focus on whatever news Teale has for us.

  Troy pulls out a chair. Motions for me to take a seat.

  His eyes are cold, serious.

  No hint of the scorching hot kiss lingers in his expression.

  Except for the tiny bit of my brown foundation that rubbed off on his face.

  I choose not to point that out.

  It’s cute.

  I like leaving my mark on him.

  “Thanks for waiting for me,” I say.

  Teale Landry’s voice is strong and sure, despite his pixelated face on screen. “No problem, Venus.”

  I nod.

  Teale and I met briefly a year ago, when he stormed Make It Marriage and demanded we pair him with Zania, who is now his lovely wife, but I don’t know him personally.

  What’s important is he found Rita and this drama is one step closer to being over.

  I fall into the chair.

  Teale nods. “Troy, did you get my e-mail?”

  “It just got in.” He types something out. “Is it the pdf ‘Tag Map’?”

  “That’s it.”

  Troy tilts the laptop back to me so I can see the screen.

  There’s a map on it.

  “Teale, what am I looking at?”

  “We traced the numbers. Took a little while, but we pinged a general location. That’s the dot on the green map. Two of three texts were sent from there.”

  I peer at the lines. My eyes flit up. “Rita?”

  Teale shakes his head. Dirty blond hair flops across his forehead. “Well…”

  “Well?” Troy frowns.

  “There’s something weird. Three things actually.”

  I lean forward.

  “Those messages weren’t sent from Rita Meeks.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The number wasn’t US registered.”

  “What?”

  Troy grunts. “Sounds like a professional job to me. Do you think she had help?”

  “I think…” Teale sighs. “I think we’re dealing with someone else entirely.”

  Troy glares down at me. “Did you piss off someone in the mob, V?”

  “Of course not. At least… I don’t think so.”

  “Wait, there’s more.” Teale waves to get our attention. He sounds like the overly cheerful spokesman on an infomercial. But instead of incredible value, I’m getting double the bad news. “Do you see the other dot? The red one?”

  I glance down. “Yeah.”

  “There was another phone.”

  I blink rapidly. “I don’t understand.”

  “Two phones. Two distinct senders. Both internationally registered numbers. Zip code: Belize. That’s what I found.”

  Troy stiffens.

  I breathe deeply.

  This just got… way more confusing.

  “You’re saying someone—two some-ones… from my home country… contacted me?”

  “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.” I mumble. “I left Belize when I was four and I never went back.”

  Troy leans over me to see the computer. “Something doesn’t feel right.” His chin brushes my shoulder. “Something… tell me some good news, Teale.”

  “We’ve got a name.”

  I brace myself. “Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”

  “But…” Teale hesitates.

  Something deep in my psyche screams a warning. My entire world is on the verge of destruction.

  “He’s in prison.”

  Troy freezes.

  I can feel his muscles tensing around me.

  Feel the air shifting.

  Darkening.

  “For what?” I croak.

  “Child molestation.”

  A sucker punch.

  A full on whack to the stomach.

  I can’t breathe.

  “It’s possible someone else is using his phone and the account’s only in his name, but there’s also a possibility…” He stares intently at me, willing me to fill in the blanks.

  I do.

  But it doesn’t make sense.

  “Why would a rapist text me? Why would…?” I suck in a deep breath.

  “Why would he tell you to keep quiet?” Troy pushes away from me. Paces the kitchen.

  “He’s up for parole in a few days.”

  My head whips up.

  A line from the note parades through my head.

  You have one week.

  “I’m still tracing the second number. We’ll have more information in a couple days.”

  “Thanks, Teale,” I whisper.

  He pulls his lips in. “I’m really sorry, Venus.”

  “No. You gave me answers. And,” I sniff, “at least I’m not blaming Rita Meeks when she’s not guilty.”

  He nods.

  Signs off.

  Feeling helpless and confused, I close the laptop lid.

  Troy’s anxious footsteps thud in the silent room.

  “Troy…” I turn. Dig my fingers more firmly around the handle of the chair. “Do you think… was I—?”

  “Let’s wait for more information before we jump to any conclusions.”

  I pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

  That recurring dream…

  The man in the star-covered room. The one I’m afraid of.

  There’s a reason I’ve been seei
ng wisps and pieces of the same dream for all my life.

  Because it’s not a dream.

  But… is it reality? Flashbacks? Gnarled truths and fiction trapped in my brain, clamoring to get out? To be free?

  My heart thuds.

  I don’t remember.

  But maybe that’s the point.

  I don’t want to remember.

  My brain did everything it possibly could to protect me.

  The dream was always too vague to make sense of.

  And maybe that’s the point.

  Maybe I’m repressing those memories intentionally, so I don’t have to deal with them.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. Try not to cry.

  The mystery claws at me, more painful than I could ever imagine.

  I’m lost. I’m also angry.

  Why now?

  As if I don’t have enough problems to tackle, there’s an ugly scar in my past that I can’t even remember? Someone’s threatening me, instructing me not to remember. I—

  A gentle touch quiets the noise.

  My eyelids flutter open.

  Troy’s kneeling in front of me, his eyes soft and caring.

  His hand rests on my knee.

  “What do you need, V?”

  “I…” My voice cracks. “I don’t know.”

  “Should we call Mrs. G?”

  “Later.” I stand. My legs are wobbly.

  Troy sees my struggle and he holds me.

  I cling to him.

  To the only thing that makes sense.

  He stands strong. Ropes a hand around my waist. Supports me as we walk up the stairs.

  I let him lead.

  I’m suddenly too tired to even think right now.

  He doesn’t take me to my room.

  We go to the bathroom instead.

  Three steps.

  I’m at the sink.

  He removes his hand from my waist. Takes one arm. Slides his hand down until he’s gripping my wrist.

  Troy turns on the faucet.

  The water gushes out. Hits the sink with a loud hiss.

  He pulls my hand under the stream, washes the first one. Then the second.

  Next he hands me my toothbrush. Squeezes the paste on top.

  When I struggle hard to brush my teeth like a normal person because I’m too busy trying not to cry, he holds the end of the toothbrush and finishes for me.

  “Spit,” he says quietly, pointing to the sink.

  I do.

  “Here.” He hands me a cup of water.

  I gurgle.

  Wash out my mouth.

  Spit again.

  Troy grabs a towel. Tenderly dries my hands. Then my face.

  I close my eyes. Feel a tear fall.

  He’s so gentle.

  And I…

  I’m so overwhelmed I can’t even handle that.

  “Come on,” he whispers huskily. That voice tells me everything. Tonight’s revelation is a ticking bomb for him too. This isn’t easy for him to swallow.