Nico roared, “You take it easy, Brody! Do what I fuckin’ said and get your ass outta here, or I’m gonna rain down so much nasty shit on your head it’ll make the apocalypse look like a picnic! You feel me?”
After a moment, Brody said, “Yeah, bro. I feel you.”
A tense silence followed as the two men glared at each other. Brody didn’t look too happy about having Nico’s arm against his throat, but his hands were held up in a gesture of surrender. Finally Nico let him go. He pulled away to stand with his hands curled to fists at his sides, his legs spread wide in a fighting stance. I couldn’t see his face, but if the bunched muscles in his shoulders and back were any indication, Nico was ready to throw down in a major way.
And so was the woman inked on his skin.
Across the majority of his back was tattooed the figure of a woman floating in air. She was wrapped in a black gauzy sheet that barely covered her voluptuous naked figure, and had long black hair that waved in an invisible wind. There was something ominous about her, about her beautiful, unsmiling face, her piercing dark eyes. Something forbidding, and vaguely familiar. I felt as if she were staring right at me. Right through me.
Then Brody turned and stalked out the door. Nico slammed it behind him.
I exhaled a long, shuddering breath.
Nico stood staring at the door for several seconds. His hands flexed open and closed. He bowed his head, exhaled hard, then came to me. He pulled me up from the floor and hugged me, burying his face in my neck. I was surprised to find he was shaking.
“Well. That was fun.” I was joking, because obviously that was not fun, but I didn’t want to add any fuel to Nico’s fire.
“They’re lucky I wasn’t inside you or I would’ve killed them both.”
His tone was so murderous, his body so rigid and wracked with tremors, I didn’t doubt he was telling the truth. His temper truly scared me. I wondered if it had ever gotten beyond his control. I squeezed him tighter, my arms around his shoulders, my bare chest pressed to his. Even though I was totally humiliated, horrified, and pretty sure I wasn’t going to leave the room until the band was long gone, I felt it was necessary to try to diffuse the ticking bomb in my arms.
“They didn’t mean to make you mad. They didn’t know I was here. It was just a mistake, Nico.”
He lifted his head, slanting me a dangerous, cutting stare. “They saw you naked.”
I laughed nervously, afraid of what I saw in his eyes. “Well, my gynecologist has seen worse. And, you know, I may have had one or two boyfriends before you. There are men out there in the world who’ve seen me naked.”
Humor was definitely the wrong way to go. As was that last tidbit about other men. Nico’s eyes bored into mine with a blazing fury that made me even more frightened. His brows pulled down low. A flush of color stained his cheeks. He settled a firm hand around my jaw and tilted my head up so our noses were almost touching.
“I wasn’t kidding before, Kat, when I said no other man got to have you. That especially includes seeing you naked.” He paused, his voice dropping. “And get a fuckin’ female gynecologist. Any man that has that job is nothin’ but a perv.”
A strange sensation settled in the pit of my stomach. I recognized it, having experienced it many times before: dread.
I’d had two controlling boyfriends in my past. One of them, a narcissist named Ryan, had attempted to dictate every facet of my life, including my wardrobe, my work schedule, who I hung out with, what I ate, and how much sleep and exercise I got. I ditched him pretty quickly.
The other bad seed was an extremely intelligent and sophisticated Frenchman named Phillip. He was far more dangerous than Ryan, because his genius was in getting me to question myself. He never came right out and demanded I do anything. His style wasn’t a kamikaze approach, as Ryan’s was.
It was guerilla warfare.
Subtly, over the course of a year, I began to distrust my instincts. Had I really been flirting with that friendly bartender? Was my dress as revealing as his disapproving glances said? Phillip’s influence was so roundabout, his technique so refined, my self-confidence eroded to the point I began to rely on him for the most mundane decisions. And, mission accomplished, he happily complied.
It took Grace giving me a walloping slap upside the head to set me straight.
So now, with those shitty experiences under my belt, I couldn’t ignore the neon red sign flashing in front of my eyes, screaming, “Control Freak Alert!”
No man was going to tell me which gynecologist to see. That was just crossing the fucking line.
“Number one,” I began, staring him dead in the eye, “you said after you’d made me come, I’d belong to you. I didn’t come. You can work out for yourself where I’m going with that.”
His nostrils flared. He leaned in closer to me, and now our noses were touching.
That only pissed me off more. My next words were biting.
“Number two. Until you have a freezing cold speculum shoved up inside you and winched open by ten different doctors before you find one that’s actually nice and makes you feel comfortable and knows what the hell he’s doing, you do not get to weigh in on my choice of a gynecologist. And, finally, the very important number three, stop being such an asshole!”
I spun out of his arms, retrieved the towel from the bed, rewrapped it around my body, and stood glaring at him from a few feet away.
Only after I’d done all that did it occur to me that poking an angry bear usually isn’t the best tactic.
Nico’s voice came deadly soft. “Don’t yell at me.”
I answered in the same tone. “Refer to point number three.”
He stepped closer, eyes fierce. I refused to step back. “Nico, don’t. I’m not letting you intimidate me. If you want this to go any further than today, than right this second, just don’t.”
That stopped him dead in his tracks. Looking as if I’d just slapped him, he whispered, “You’re not goin’ anywhere, Kat.”
I got so mad it was all I could do to answer him civilly. “Just to be perfectly clear: you don’t get to make that decision. I’m not your toy.”
He licked his lips. It reminded me of a nature show I’d once seen of an alpha wolf on the hunt for a caribou in the Alaskan wilderness. It didn’t end well for the caribou.
He took a measured step closer, then another, until we were a foot apart. His eyes drilled into mine. I still refused to budge. “You’re my favorite toy, baby. And I’m yours. So that makes us even.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he interrupted me.
“That also means I’m not gonna let you walk away ’cause you got your panties in a wad about me actin’ like a man. Told you this yesterday and I’m sayin’ it again: we’re gonna give each other the benefit of the doubt. You’re pissed at me, you tell me. I think you’re bein’ a drama queen, I’m gonna tell you.”
What? Me? A drama queen?
“I can tell by that angry little noise you just made that you think I’m an even bigger asshole now that I said that, but just like you shouldn’t be afraid to speak your mind to me, I’m not gonna be afraid to speak my mind to you.” He glanced at my necklace, then back up into my eyes. “I wasn’t playin’ when I said we’re gonna have trust, Kat. It might not always be pretty.” He reached out and softly stroked my cheek. “But it is always gonna be real.”
I considered all that, then decided to go for broke. “Okay. You want real? Here it is. And if you don’t like it, you’ve only got yourself to blame.”
He waited, still tenderly stroking my cheek. I wished he wasn’t doing that, because it was messing with my righteous anger.
“I’ve had twelve lovers in my life.” His hand on my face froze. “That’s right, I said it. Twelve. Two of them were complete psychos, three of them had mommy issues, four of them were just fucking immature. The other three either cheated on me or roughed me up. One of them did both, and loved every minute of it. So that puts you at unlucky number
thirteen. And if I were judging this relationship on my past experiences, I’d be out that door so fast right now your head would spin.
“I don’t like aggression. I don’t really like possessiveness, either, but at least that shows you care. But the anger? This stuff with you going ballistic on the press, and even getting physical with your friends? That worries me, Nico. All your secrets worry me, too. But I’m standing here, telling you this, because I care. I’m looking for reasons to stay. Don’t give me any more to walk away.”
Slowly, he withdrew his hand from my face. He stared at me a long, long time, silent, his expression a mix of frustration and conflict, and what might have even been fear. He whispered, “I only have two secrets, Kat. One that could ruin my life, and one that could ruin someone else’s. If you want me to, I’ll tell you both.”
Oh. I hadn’t been expecting that. But he wasn’t finished yet.
“As for the anger, I don’t have an excuse for that. Never felt possessive about a woman before. Or jealous, either.”
Not even Avery? Not even that beautiful train wreck whose picture you keep beside your bed?
“Never,” he insisted, reading the look in my eyes. “And I’m not gonna stand here and lie to you that it’s not gonna happen again, ’cause it might. Hell, it probably will.”
When I made a noise of frustration, he reached out and grasped my wrist, pulling me nearer. “But I get you don’t like it. So I’ll do my best to curb that shit. If . . . ” he wrapped his arms around me and spoke into my ear, “you do your best not to compare me to every other fuckin’ douche bag you’ve been with. I don’t compare you to anyone else. At least give me that.”
I settled my head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart. He brushed my hair off my neck and trailed his lips across my shoulder and up my throat, pressing soft kisses as he went. My arms, having a mind of their own, wound around his waist.
I didn’t know what to think, or feel. Or do. What he’d said about his secrets unsettled me, and while I wanted to know what they were, at the same time I didn’t. I decided that, for the moment, it was enough he’d offered to share. There was only so much my brain could deal with in one day.
I sighed, defeated. “Okay. Deal. No comparisons on my end, and you keep a leash on King Kong.”
He cupped his hand around the back of my neck, nuzzling my throat. “Don’t sound so put out, baby. This is a good thing.”
I raised my head and gave him a disbelieving look. “Exactly how is what just happened a good thing?”
His blue eyes shone. “Got our first fight outta the way. Now we don’t ever have to do it again.”
I shook my head. His ability to transform from fire-breathing dragon to teddy bear was almost mutant. Time for a subject change before the dragon woke up again. I trailed my fingers over his skin. “What’s this tattoo on your back?”
He bent his head to my neck again, breathing me in. “Nyx. Greek goddess of the night. According to their legends, she was so powerful she was feared even by Zeus himself. She was the mother of death.”
My hands on his back faltered. The mother of death? Seriously? That’s what you have tattooed on your body?
Secondarily, because I wasn’t always the sharpest tool in the shed, came the realization that the man in my arms shared his last name with a mythical figure accredited with giving birth to death. Which made no sense at all, if you thought about it. But the point was: how could that be a coincidence?
Was Nico’s last name not his real one?
I knew celebrities did that kind of thing all the time. Marilyn Monroe’s real name was Norma Jean Baker. John Wayne’s real name was Marion Morrison. But, and this was a big but, if Nico’s last name wasn’t his real one, why the hell would he choose Nyx, goddess of the night, mother of death? Creepy much?
Holy shit, I thought, suddenly breathless. What if his first name isn’t real, either? What if it’s, like, Eugene? I examined his gorgeous face in a whole new light.
“What?”
“I need to ask a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Is Nico your real name?”
He looked surprised. “Yeah. I’m Italian on my mother’s side, Nico was my grandfather’s name.”
Not Eugene. Thank God.
Nico cupped my jaw, his eyes searching mine. “Why? Your real name isn’t Kat?”
I burst out laughing. How could I not? “Yes, silly, Kat’s my real name. And so is Reid,” I added, subtle as a hammer.
But Nico was too busy being enamored to take the bait. His eyes went all hot and steamy, as did his voice. “Christ, Kat. That laugh. Gives me fuckin’ goosebumps.” He bent his head and took my mouth, sucking greedily on my lips like they were candy.
Would I ever tire of that amazing tingling his kisses sent winging throughout my body?
“Whoa, cowboy.” I pulled away before my hormones could take over. “The band, remember?”
He closed his eyes. “Yeah. How could I forget.” His tone was so sour I had to laugh again, which brought a smile to his face. He gazed down at me, smiling brilliantly, his dark hair falling into his eyes, golden light from the windows haloing his head. In that moment, something happened that I thought only happened in the movies.
My heart—literally—skipped a beat.
“There it is,” he whispered, going from lighthearted to intense with whiplash speed. “There’s that look I love so much.”
The L word. He’d just said the L word! Faint now, or wait until he leaves the room?
Slowly, as if magnetized, our faces drew together. The kiss started out tender, but quickly turned greedy. His hands were greedy, too, shoving aside the towel to rove over my naked hips, bottom, waist. I rose up on my tiptoes. My arms tightened around his shoulders. When he began to walk me toward the bed, I had to intervene before I lost myself completely in him.
“The band, Nico.”
We stood there breathing heavily, bodies fused. He pulled the towel away and discarded it so we could be skin to skin, then ran his hands up and down my sides, hips to armpits, lust and possession in every twitch of his fingers. I opened my eyes. His were still closed. He licked his lips again, as if needing to taste me.
I whispered, “Handsome.”
His eyes drifted open.
“Go be with the boys. Go apologize for pulling a Rambo. Have a drink. Play some music. You’ll feel better. Then, tomorrow, we’ll forget about this shitty day and start fresh. Okay?”
He slowly shook his head. “Never gonna forget a single day, baby. Good and bad, they all add up to the story of us. I’m gonna take every one and cherish it, come what may.”
Aw, shit. Here came the tears. “You’re really good at the sweet talk,” I said, my voice wavering.
He cracked a grin. “I’m a songwriter, darlin’. Kinda comes with the territory. Now get that beautiful ass in some clothes. I’m not goin’ downstairs without you.”
“You’re not going to let me maintain my dignity and hide, you mean.”
His thumb grazed my lower lip. “No hidin’. For either of us. Yeah? We’re out in the open, with everything between us, and everything else. It’s me and you against the world, baby. One day at a time.”
Well, that did it. Water spilled over my lower lids and tracked down my cheeks. “Dammit. I’m supposed to still be mad at you.”
But Nico only laughed and pulled me closer, cradling me against his chest. “I know. I’m an asshole. And you’re my Drama Queen, who’s gonna call me on my shit and keep me on my toes. And fuck if I would have it any other way.”
So I went and got dressed. Then we went downstairs to meet the band.
And then all hell broke loose.
It started out well enough.
Nico led me downstairs by the hand into a room adjacent to the music studio, where everyone had congregated. And by everyone, I mean Brody; the big blond guy Nico had thrown out of the bedroom; two heavily tattooed guys Nico introduced as Chris and Ethan,
the bassist and keyboardist for Bad Habit; and six skanky/pretty girls in crotch-grazing minidresses and hair out to there.
Oh, fun! Groupies!
Not.
Two of the skanks were hanging off the big blond guy like those leech-like fish who swim alongside a shark, cleaning its gills. The others were draped all over the rest of the men. The blond guy made an angry, bear-like noise deep in his throat.
Nico acknowledged him in a flat voice. “A.J.”
So this was the infamous A.J., drummer for Bad Habit. I hadn’t seen him at the video shoot because his scenes were filmed separately from mine and Nico’s. Chloe had been right: the guy was a growler. I examined him with interest. He was hulking, roped with muscle, and taller than Nico by at least a few inches, maybe six foot six. I was a terrible judge of height, but I’d seen shorter NBA players. He reminded me of The Rock, if The Rock had shaggy blond hair and eyes the color of whiskey.
If he cut that hair and stopped channeling a grizzly interrupted during hibernation, he might have almost been cute.
Brody was lounging on one of the unwelcoming leather sofas, managing to make it look, if not comfortable, at least not quite the torture device the one upstairs appeared to be. His boyish face wore a wary expression as he looked back and forth between Nico and me. “And here’s Mayweather now. We were just talking about you, bro.”
The brunette who was plastered against Brody snickered. Nico’s stony glare wiped the smile right off her face. She looked at the floor, mouth pinched. The other girls occupied themselves by examining me with narrowed, hostile eyes.
I’m sure my jeans, T-shirt, and air-dried hair failed to pass muster, but I did my best to try to look like I didn’t give a shit what a bunch of sluts thought about my outfit.
“My lady says I should apologize to you dumb assfuckers for goin’ off on you upstairs.”
Nico sounded as if he’d rather take a swan dive into a pool of cow manure. I squeezed his hand. He glanced sideways at me, and I nodded in encouragement. He exhaled, then turned his attention back to his band mates. They looked back and forth between Nico and me, wearing matching expressions of surprise.
Sweet as Sin Page 14
