When nighttime fell, Caroline returned home with a secret promise between the two of us she would come back tonight to get me if I needed her to. It was the only way I knew he would agree to me leaving without arguing he was coming with. I did as much drinking as talking last night. One minute, I was high over my brother, the next I was low over everything else. Ended up burning through two bottles of wine, passing out in a lounge chair only to wake up a few hours ago in Roman’s bed.
The entire time I was getting ready, I felt the earth rock beneath my feet and my mind drifting in and out like the tide, and now I’m ready to get lost in my job. Figure out what steps I need to take in order to find my brother, but Roman is still not willing to let me go.
“We’re parked far enough down the street that they won’t see me. I can enter through the side door, Roman,” I lie, push my glasses up on top of my head, and stare him down. I don’t have my keys to unlock the side door. They are locked away in the desk in my office. I’ve never had the need to use them before now. I make a mental note to grab them as I try to wiggle myself free only to have him place his hands on my waist and grind his cock against my core. God, the friction feels good. Even between a pair of jeans and dress pants.
He’s the definition of pure, raw sex, and I want to be his in more ways than I can figure out right now. I can almost feel his hands all over me. Rough and ready to make me more of a mess than I already am. A mess of a woman who has no explanation whatsoever except to never want this feeling of being in his arms to go away.
“Can’t bullshit a bullshitter, baby. Give me a minute to distract them, then you can go. First things first,” he whispers against my lips. His breathing becomes harder, the preoccupied look he had while white-knuckling the steering wheel through the crowd the minute he opened the gates by his home long gone as it melts away with the warmth of the sun. Lord, he’s beautiful.
If I thought I was thankful for the tinted windows while he was driving, I’m more thankful for them at this particular moment as my body squirms in his hold. It’s hard to relax when I know what he’s packing underneath his jeans. Makes me want to bite down on his lip out of frustration.
There’s something about the way Roman gazes down at me as with unspoken words that hold me prisoner in the darkness of his eyes. The longer he studies my lips, the darker they become. He appears to be dissecting them as he contemplates whether he wants to lick or devour, and yet he doesn’t move. He just holds my mouth in the shadows of those eyes that reach into my soul and pluck all reason out of my chest. Predatory eyes like a tiger’s ready to pounce.
I gulp. My voice is lodged in my throat, right where it was when he read my tattoo. His expression rooted me to my spot as he thoughtfully read the words I’ve lived by for a decade. Fingers caressing my skin like the softest kisses across raw flesh. Healing me even more than the words have ever done.
His handsome face along with his huge heart has always been one of the things I remember fondly about him. It's like looking back in time with the way he’s silently pleading with me now for me to go back to his home with him instead of going to my place to work.
My thoughts are spinning back to different circumstances, a reversal in a tough decision when he told me he was leaving our small town of Brooklyn, Michigan. It was such a long time ago, but right now it feels like yesterday when I contemplated long and hard wondering if I should stay and wait out the tide or go with him. He’s shielding me that way now, in the protection of his arms, while telling me with his soulful stare that he’ll do whatever he has to do to make things right.
I try swallowing down the past that wants to cloud my judgment. It won’t budge. So many things could be different if I had gone with him. I’ve thought about how different our lives would be if I’d said yes and followed him. I had my sights set on going to a school that I can’t say I attended anyway. I have too much running through my head to think clearly about anything, and this is why I need to be alone. No one seems to get that but me. Not even Caroline. She thinks I need to let go of the hostile frame of mind I’ve been in for years. It’s not as easy as everyone thinks. You can’t just erase years of pent-up guilt in a matter of days. That, like everything else, takes time. I want my time to myself, and just like they don’t understand me, I don’t understand why it’s such a hard decision for them to comprehend.
"I don't know where we go from here, Roman. One day at a time, like they say. My entire world is spinning all around me. I’m confused, and confusion and I don’t blend."
"I know, Joslyn. I just don’t want you going home and shutting me out." His gaze moves across my face searching for that little bit of uncertainty he’s not going to find. Finally, the man is spitting out the hopelessness he’s contained. I hate that we didn’t talk things through when we were younger, and as adults, it’s so much easier to release the words. I suppose it’s part of growing up.
I sigh. He may have me on his lap. His hips are rolling slowly, on purpose, to preoccupy my brain, but this is a huge start for Roman to open up about what he really fears.
I need him to understand that this isn’t something he can fix. “Roman, how can I be shutting you out when I don’t even know what I’m heading into yet? At some point, I have to face reality. I have to be seen in public, and you have to let me." I tell him the only thing I can think of to stay on topic. I’m not going to sit out here and hash out my brother, our past, or any future we may have. Not when my skull is telling me to be reasonable and my body is trying to overturn my brain's sensibility by betraying me. She’s practically sobbing in hysterics for him to take it upon himself and drive back to his place to stay in bed all day. We have plenty of time for that. Today just isn’t that day. “I can’t be seen when you manhandle me and look at me as if you want to fuck me right here.”
“Don’t tempt me. I’ll toss you in the back seat and have more than the media hovering around. Do you need a reminder on my definition of manhandling? I’m over the little bit of foreplay. It’s time to play dirty, and I really couldn’t give a fuck if there are people outside. I asked for a minute, and I’m getting as many of them as I want before we hit that sidewalk running. I want you out of breath, dripping wet, and begging me to come over to your place by the time I’m done. I’m not playing nice with you anymore, Joslyn.” I gasp in shock when he positions my body in one swift move to where I’m straddling him, runs his palms down my hair, and yanks, my head falling back. His thickness is thrusting against my core, and his mouth assaults my neck. I’m delirious. My warm skin is burning when his lips connect with my heated flesh. His kisses are becoming harder and urgent as he trails a line that sets me on fire under my jaw, on my chin, and leaves them teasingly a hairsbreadth away from my aching lips.
Oh, sweet Lord.
“You drive me fucking crazy, Joslyn. So damn crazy over you,” he grunts out, loosens his hold on my hair, and attaches those lips to my mouth.
The man is killing time and playing my body the way he wants in order to take my mind as well as his off the world outside of us. It’s working, and God, is he ever good at it. Especially when his hands grip my ass and he continues to rub his dick back and forth, hitting me in the sweet spot between my legs. I wish we were unclothed right now, and I wish I were riding him hard and fast. However, this is working just fine for me at the moment.
I choke back the laugh wanting to surface. Here we are making out on a busy street with people milling about, ready to start their day. We’ve never made out in a car before. If we don’t stop, the windows are going to fog and the predators are going to have a field day if they notice me stepping out of this vehicle all flushed, with swollen lips, wobbly knees, and nipples as hard as cement. I’m baking away in his vehicle, and it has nothing to do with the early morning sun beating down on my back. It’s him. His mouth, hands, and the way he takes control of everything.
I remind myself once again I don’t care what they say about me. I’ll continue reminding myself forever. I’m a gr
own woman who once again has done nothing wrong. So I take what he’s offering. I kiss him with everything I have. My tongue is getting to know his flavor once again with every swipe. He is directing my thoughts, controlling my mind and body, and he’s well aware of it, too.
When we break apart for air, I rest my forehead against his and gather some much-needed oxygen in my lungs. My chest is heaving so hard, and I’m sweating so badly that I have the notion of asking him if he'll drive around while I let the air conditioning cool me down.
“It’s me you wanted to distract, not them. All of this was done on purpose to get my body to surrender to you. You’re an ass. Come on. I can’t be late,” I mumble against his forehead. He chuckles and helps me off his lap. I straighten out my hair, my rumpled blouse, and narrow my eyes at him.
“She’s finally catching on. Warned you about trying to bullshit me. I’m going to win at that game every fucking time. Whatever you do, don’t let go of my hand. I'll guarantee there are a few more of them lurking around. Just keep walking and don’t say a word.” He smirks, winks, and opens the door. I wait for him to round the front while I check my flushed face in the mirror on the visor. He’s a jerk for doing this regardless if I’m calm or not. Which I am. At least about them.
“That was meant to cool down your temper, too, and you know it. You better listen to your attorney when she says not to hit anyone,” I joke.
“Officially not my lawyer yet. Was that your way of saying yes?” I roll my eyes.
“Yes, I’d love nothing more than to be your lawyer, Roman Nixon. Shall we shake on it?” I laugh, take hold of his outstretched hand, and walk next to him. Our gait is slow at first then picking up as we walk around a group of people. The next few minutes happen in a blur.
“There they are!” someone shouts, and before I know what’s happening, more men and women than I have time to count come dashing from behind us, in front of us, and from the side closest to the road. The people on the steps run as if they are the ones running away from a stampede about to plow them over.
“Goddamn it. Keep moving.” I’m unable to move. My legs lock, and my hand slips from his hold. I’m swarmed, and so is he. Microphones are shoved in my face. Elbows are smashing into my ribs, and the air is knocked out of me when someone slams something hard into my stomach. I’m gasping for air. My eyes are wide with shock and frantically searching Roman out of fright as we’re being separated further and further with every push and pull from these assholes who simply won’t let me breathe. “Oh, my God. Have you people lost your Godforsaken minds? I will never talk to you, as in ever!” I yell, pushing and shoving with all my might, but not one of them are willing to shift. They keep coming at me. Yelling questions I can’t make sense of. I’ve never been this scared of anything in my life. “Please, stop touching me!” I scream loud, my throat aching from the screech. These people are like a pack of wild animals attacking their meal.
My heart’s thrashing stupidly hard in my chest. It’s banging against my breastbone, cutting off my air supply. Roman’s shouting for them to leave me alone and for me to get away from them echoes in my ears. Slow motion is all I can see. These people are suffocating me and strangling the air around me. I want to jump right out of my skin and crawl away.
I’m panicking. A dreadful fear rips down my throat and scrapes away at my insides as I shelter myself from this madness.
My arms are being pulled, bodies shoving and hoarding all around me. This is absolutely uncalled for. “Stop touching me!” I repeat, yanking loose enough to rear my leg back, connecting with someone, the surprise loosening whoever has a grip on my other arm enough for me to break free. Instantly, I run. “You fucking bitch!” someone calls out angrily, grasping at the back of my neck. I try jerking away, standing on my tiptoes to get a view of Roman. I’m unable to as my head is tugged back, snapping like a sudden onslaught of whiplash by whoever gripped hold of the back of my neck, squeezing so hard the pain shoots down my spine. I’m pulled backward, knocking a few people to the ground and losing my footing altogether, crashing onto the sidewalk. My fingers are being walked on, my knees are scraped and screaming out in pain.
Anxiety places a discomfort in my chest. I can’t breathe. All I can think about is getting out of here without losing my ability to stand tall.
I start to crawl, the green grass in my view. I’m nearly there when I feel my body lunge forward, tumbling face forward onto the grass. The crushing weight of someone’s heavy frame covering mine sends me into a full-fledged panic attack. Immediately, I use every ounce of fight I have to get this person off me. Screeching for help as I do.
“Listen up, bitch. You think this is bad; you wait until I get you alone.” That voice scares me. I don’t recognize it, yet I try to. I’m too confused to recognize anything. His broadening, angered tone, however, makes me shiver to the center of my bones.
I place my hands over my ears to cover up the name-calling, the sound of the man’s voice, and the rude comments of someone accusing me of being a slut, a homewrecker, and a troubled girl whose parents threw her away, before I let out another violent screech as a bright flash goes off in my face, blinding me. It rattles my skull. I try with everything in me to stay alert, to holler out through the hoarseness in my voice for Roman. Everything hurts. My eyes, my head, my heart. The impulse to make sure he’s alright burns behind the whites of my eyes. I can’t see a thing.
I refuse to allow their words to hurt me the way they want them to. It’s the sudden kick to my face that causes me to lose all reason. I wane in and out of some sort of body-numbing shock, my brain scattering all over the place trying to understand how this could happen.
I can only think of one reason why at the moment. I should have listened to Roman. Should have stayed far, far away from the evil person and these people who are trying to hurt me. I close my eyes and let it tumble down around me.
Chapter 10
Roman
How long has Roman Nixon been cheating on his wife?
Never, you fuckers.
Guilt surges through my veins as I think of the headlines that continue to flow across the web. Deep down I know this isn’t my fault. It doesn’t make the sharp barbed wire squeezing the air from my lungs while it takes its sweet-ass time bleeding me dry any less of a turbulent friction that wreaks havoc inside of me.
The sight of her sleeping peacefully next to me in my bed should cool down my anger; it doesn’t do a damn thing but make me want to protect her more.
Not even the laughter that escaped from her smiling mouth after she read the same headline we all assumed they would come up with. All of this simmers my blood to boiling.
They are having a field day with trying to chew her up and spit her out, and Gwen sits right in the middle of it. I have no doubt in my mind she’s the one now. The bitch still won’t slow her gossip down, nor has she returned any of the dozens of phone calls and voicemails both Jennifer and I have left. It’s as if she’s locked herself in solitary confinement while she hides behind her computer screen.
It’s been four days since Joslyn was attacked, and even though the strong-willed woman claims she was fine before and after Caroline examined her and cleaned her up, I won’t stop worrying or lose the remorse burning my insides and making every muscle in my body lock up tight until I hunt these monsters down.
I grip the sides of my head to block out her screams I can’t shake from buzzing in my ears. It’s a constant scratching ache, and I can’t reach it to make it stop. One of them was the loudest earsplitting scream I have ever heard. It sounded like a screech of wild terror. A scream that bordered on panic, disbelief, and scared the fuck out of me.
I grind my teeth together, but the adrenaline coursing throughout me is more than I can take. This needs to stop before someone is hurt badly or winds up dead.
I couldn’t get to her before she was knocked down, and it wasn’t from lack of trying. It felt like hours before I was able to tear away from the hands trying to ho
ld me back.
I pushed my way through the people surrounding me as fast as I could when in reality it was less than a couple of minutes. By the time I got to her, she was facedown, shaking as if she was freezing and crying. I scooped her into my arms, opened the back door, and laid her down. I wasn’t taking the time to look around for any witnesses. My only concern was getting her the hell out of there, making sure she was alright before the street got busier than it already was. Plus, I wasn’t taking my chances of having someone take more pictures of her. Now that I think back, all but a handful of them had scattered out of there as quickly as they’d ensnared us in their web.
They forced us apart on purpose. Went at her like a bunch of starving men pawing away at her body like they had the right to. I have never seen a more monstrous attack from the pap’s like that the entire time I’ve been in the public eye. It was an ambush. A brutal attack by someone tipping them off. There’s only one person I can think of who would have the nerve to do something as low as this, and for the life of me, I don’t understand why or how the cunt even found out. Unless she’s having me followed. That’s just another thing Gwen isn’t smart enough to pick up and do on her own. Nope, this screams someone else is guiding her along. But who? I’ve had everyone I can think of checked out. Someone is out for blood instead of money. It doesn’t make a lick of sense.
I gaze down at Joslyn. She was so busted up. Her eyes were swollen by the time I arrived home. Arms had fingerprints and bruises up and down them. Her cheek had a red mark from where she was kicked, and her knees were bloodied and scraped all to hell. But she’s safe and secure now.
“Roman, you still there?” Marcus calls out over the phone. I’m so lost in my head I forgot he was on the line. I untuck the phone from between my chin and ear, gripping hold of it, and answer him.
“I’m here. Thinking, is all.”
The Right Direction Page 9
