by Scott, S. L.
“I am. Just give me a moment.”
When he doesn’t move, I get impatient. “For what?”
“I like to take my time.”
I lift to kiss this impossible man, but just as I do, he catches my hips, and I’m anchored to the floor. “Calm down, sweetheart. It takes time to get to the good stuff.”
“And by good stuff, you’re talking about you?”
“Sure am.”
“Either do it or don’t, Tulsa. I don’t like feeling rejected. Remember, I’m sober here.”
“Why do you feel rejected when I stop to admire you? Why would you ever feel rejected when I just told you, not five minutes ago, I want to do more than kiss you? My cock is hard for you. It’s not flowers, but it’s a pretty damn good indicator that I want you.”
I smile because maybe he’s not reading poetry or serenading me, but he is clearly attracted to me, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. “Why are we still talking and not kissing? Are we doing this?” I ask, feeling frustrated—emotionally and sexually.
His hands still hold me by the hips as he lowers himself to his knees in front of me. He’s deft at popping my jeans open and pulling my zipper down as I suck in a breath at the feel of his fingers running along my lower belly. “Yes, I’m going to kiss you. I’m going to use my lips to feel the softness of yours. I’m going to use my tongue to taste you—inside and out. And if you’re a really good girl, I’m going to seduce you with my mouth until you come in it. Does that work for you, darlin’?”
My mind is still stuck on tasting and coming, but he’s looking at me, waiting for me to answer. “I want your words, Nikki.”
“I want that. I want you to do all of that.”
“Good.” Standing, he cups my face. “I want that too, but I want our first kiss to go like this.” He leans in and closes his eyes. My eyelids fall when his firm and possessive lips press to mine.
Our lips part, and I slowly reopen my eyes to find his still closed as if he’s savoring me. When he opens his eyes, it’s not the Tulsa Special at play, but a smile that’s more intimate, more personal, as if created just for me.
He licks me off his lips, then touches his finger to mine, tracing them once. “Now that I’ve tasted these lips.” His other hand slides into my open jeans. “I’m ready to taste your others.”
There are a million reasons to stop him, to tell him no, reasons that seemed rational before. Explanations he mentioned too. This tour. The Resistance catching us in the act. His brothers. Mine. But none of it seems to matter right now because Tulsa Crow is going to kiss me where no one has been in ages, and I want this.
I want him.
My mind loses all ability to think clearly. Instead, I feel the heat of his palm as it slides against my stomach and into my jeans. I almost reach out and touch him, but I was promised kisses and tasting and coming, and I’m willing to let him keep that promise.
The scruff of his jaw scrapes against my neck, and he whispers in my ear, “Do you still want to stand?”
“No.”
“I want you to take off your clothes. Will you do that for me, Nikki?”
“Yes.” I tug my jeans off and climb onto the bed with my thong still on.
I flash my ass in his direction. I’m used to wearing barely-there swimwear. I do yoga most days and jog a little—very little—but still. I’m twenty-three, for fuck’s sake. Like him, I’m not shy about showing some skin.
I turn my head quickly and catch him staring. No apologies.
Lying on my back with a pillow beneath my head, I crook my finger for him to come hither. He stands beside the bed, all six feet plus looming over me as he takes me in. I wave my hand in front of my vagina. “Proceed.”
Chuckling, he says, “I’d almost forgotten who I was with. Miss San Diego County herself. Or should I call you queen?”
“I’m partial to queen,” I tease because I hate being called a beauty queen. But I hate not having his mouth on me more, so if letting him call me queen gets him to do the deed sooner, he can go right ahead.
Kneeling, he runs his hands from my ankles to my knees so slowly I think I might combust before his mouth even reaches me. “I’m partial to you, my queen.”
I should have known better. That tricky bastard makes his move and has the nerve to lift my foot and kiss the top of my ankle with so much tenderness I close my eyes and give in to the sensations.
His fingers on my skin. His hands on my body. His lips caressing me like this might be that more he spoke about earlier. This feels too good. Too damn good.
I snap my legs together and sit up. “I’m nervous. I might talk too much. I want you to want me.”
There’s that genuine smile again. “I do want you. I want you badly.”
“I want you to feel good.” Kissing my knee, he rests his chin on top. “I want you, but I’m okay if we take this slowly.”
My shoulders begin to relax, the tension drifting away. “And here I thought I was just another notch.”
He whispers, “Here’s a secret—there are no notches, only a past that doesn’t matter when I’m with you.”
“Why doesn’t your past matter with me?”
“Because when I’m with you, I only want to live in the present.”
“No future?”
Smiling again, he asks, “You sure do talk a lot.”
“I told you I was nervous.”
“You don’t have to be. Not with me.”
His lips make me want to kiss him again, but his eyes and how he looks at me makes me want to do so much more. “I don’t like to owe anyone anything. If we do this tonight, I get to return the favor tomorrow. Deal?”
“Deal,” he whispers against the inside of my knee, and then kisses me there. “Lie back, baby.”
Baby. I swoon as I lie back, letting my arms rest wide as he parts my legs. Lifting my ass, he takes off my underwear. I try not to look at him as he takes me in for the first time—my body and my scar.
The rough skin, the size of a soda can on its side, lies above any bikini line. Although my heart is racing as his eyes land on it, he doesn’t pull back or flinch. No cringing happens, though I begin to cover it.
His voice is a mere whisper to himself as he takes my hand and then kisses the scar that runs deeper on the inside. “Beautiful.”
Under his gaze, he’s made me feel nothing less than perfect. I haven’t told him everything, but he’s cleared the way for me to know I can. “We don’t know each other—”
“But I want to. I want to kiss every inch of your incredible body. I want to know its history. I want to know you, so when you’re ready to share, I’ll be here.”
Tulsa’s used to women falling over him—it’s not about his body. That’s so easy to see now that I’ve dropped my walls low enough to see the real man behind the roguish grin.
I reach down and touch his cheek. “I want to know you too.” I want him kissing me on the lips and between my legs. It feels shallow to admit, but I like the way this feels with him—how we are when we’re together like this. I want this with him. “I want you.”
Bending over me, his lips touch the tops of my thighs, and he peppers kisses until I’m calm again. I close my eyes as those broad shoulders angle under my knees. First, two fingers stroke along the crease of my leg and then they part me. As I inhale, his breath warms me.
He places the gentlest of kisses, his mouth lingering. When I peek, his eyes are closed, and his breathing is deep. I try to keep my body still, taking in every sensation. His tongue flattens across me, and he licks from bottom to top, and I can’t stop myself from crying out. “Oh, God, you feel amazing.”
The scruff of his beard scrapes the inside of my thighs, and I about lose all my senses when his tongue circles my clit. Sexy bastard. “Light My Fire” has never sounded better than from his throat, hummed against me. I start to move, my hips bucking of their own accord.
Tulsa works faster, harder, and then adds his finger, sliding into me slowly
and steadily. His other hand flattens against my lower stomach to hold me in place. By the time he reaches the end of the song, my body lets go, as if it were holding out for the finale. I fall apart, my eyes closing tightly, my teeth clenching, my thighs squeezing. He definitely kept his promise to me.
When he lifts his head from between my legs, I open my eyes but don’t find the predicted smirk. This time, I’m gifted with a smile.
13
Nikki
Last night, I was weighted to Tulsa’s bed completely relaxed. He didn’t rush to get up and didn’t seem to be in a hurry to let me go, so I stayed. I don’t know who fell asleep first, though I’m thinking it was me. I do know we held hands.
I woke up around three in the morning, quietly got dressed, and snuck out after taking a minute to admire his fine features and kissing him on the head. I don’t know why I kissed him. Maybe I wanted to taste his peaceful sleep.
Standing at his door, I considered staying, debating the harm versus the reward for a good minute before the answer made its way through my foggy thoughts. I guess the kiss was something for me, something for me to hold onto as I walked down the hall during the early morning hour.
My phone chimes with a text as I finish getting ready for the show. My body stiffens, thinking it might be Tulsa, but disappointment settles in when it’s not. I’m so ridiculous. He has no reason to text me, and my best friend deserves a better reaction.
Lauralee: I booked my flight to Vegas. WOOT!
Me: Can’t wait.
Lauralee: I fly in Friday afternoon. I have a little work to do that morning. Can I still stay with you?
Me: Yes. Definitely. I’ll send you the details when I check in. I’m so excited.
Lauralee: Me too. WOOT!
I set my phone down and pull my braid over my shoulder. Standing on the edge of the tub with my Converse hanging off, I try to see the full view of how I look. I wonder if Tulsa will like my dress.
The thought bugs me the second I think it. I can’t start doing this. I’ve been down this road before—dressing for a guy, hoping he likes me. I just need to be myself, to please myself. For myself.
I smile, liking the way I look, refreshed and peaceful from my yoga session this morning, and my makeup is creative and makes me glow. Styling my hair worked out, and I love the new dress I’m wearing—geometrical with black and white shapes. It’s fun and will look great on stage.
Hopping down, I brush my teeth and then put on my favorite red lipstick. I grab my backpack and head down to the waiting car when Laird sends me a text telling me to hurry.
As soon as I slide into the back seat, I shut the door and say, “It feels weird not having our guitars with us.”
“Yeah, it’s strange just showing up,” Shane replies.
Laird asks, “What’d you do last night?”
“Nothing big.” Huge, actually. It was so huge I kind of want to tell the world. But it’s not the kind of news a brother or a cousin wants to hear, so I sit with a smile on my face and watch the world fly by outside the window.
He says, “We watched the game, but then I went to bed early. I got up and worked out. I forgot how much a tour tears my body down.”
“I did yoga this morning. I think I’m going to start jogging again, too.”
“Be careful. Make sure you know where you’re going.”
“I’ll be fine.” I knock into him with my shoulder. “Thanks for looking out for me, big brother.”
He admits, “I still worry.”
“I know, but I’ll be okay. Sometimes we have to figure things out on our own.”
His expression falls, and I can almost see the same devastation I once saw returning to his eyes. “What if I didn’t find you when I did?”
“You did, but if you didn’t, I would have found my way home eventually.”
That makes him smile. It’s a small one, but it’s there. “I have no doubt, little sis.”
Once we arrive at the arena, Laird catches up to me, and whispers, “I’ve noticed the crew staring at you. Maybe you should wear a jacket until you’re on stage.”
“Why?” My clothes are part of the performance. Sometimes, I wear a little more, most of the time a lot less. Even though it’s my usual style, it feels more like a costume when I’m on stage. He gets that, or he used to. I’m still his little sis by a few minutes, so it doesn’t mean he likes it. What he hates is how men look at me.
“Is this dress shorter than usual?”
“No, but I have bloomers on anyway.”
“I don’t know what the fuck bloomers are.”
“It’s the underwear that covers my ass. Like granny panties but made with thicker material so you can’t see my stuff. You know, like I used to wear under my tennis skirt.”
He pushes between Shane and me. “This is way too much fucking information, Nikki. You’re not going to cover up, are you?”
“Nope.” I can’t help but laugh. “I’m wearing what I want. Not to spite you, but because I like my clothes. This dress makes me feel good on the inside.”
Shane leans against the counter with lights circling the mirror behind him. “Nothing about Nikki has changed, Laird, except the size of the audience.”
“Thank you, Shane. I appreciate you having my back.”
Laird stares at Shane in disbelief. “Really, man?”
“Really.”
Sighing, Laird rubs his jaw as he looks at me. “How about I just say it?”
Finally. “Please do.”
“Tulsa—”
“Tulsa?” Hearing his name takes me by surprise. “What does he have to do with this?”
“It’s just been on my mind.”
“What has?” I ask.
“Tulsa. I don’t think you realize how he looks at you. I don’t know why it bothers me. He seems cool, but I’m not sure I want my sister dating him. He reminds me of my friends in high school and college who always used to talk about you. They knew better than to try anything, but I’m not sure Tulsa does.” By his tone, he’s loosening up, making it a lot easier to understand where he’s coming from. “I know how he thinks. We’re a lot alike, Nik.”
I’m still caught in what he said first to hear the rest. “He looks at me how?”
“Like you’re not my sister.”
I laugh with a little scoff. “Guys look at me, Laird.” In the light of day, I’m not sure how Tulsa and I ended up in his bed. We didn’t have sex, but it wasn’t off the table . . . or mattress. I also don’t know if we’ll ever do anything again, but he did say he didn’t see me as a notch. “I want to kiss every inch of your incredible body. I want to know its history. I want to know you, so when you’re ready to share, I’ll be here.” I want his words to be true.
“Boobs and asses tend to get men’s attention. One-track minds.” I say this even though I don’t believe it when it comes to Tulsa. Am I being naïve? “Anyway, you think it’s fun being used by girls to get to your brother? Yeah, that happened many times over, so maybe we’re even.”
“Maybe we are.” He stands and comes over to me, his mouth twisted to the side as he looks at me. “Just be careful. I’m going to check on my guitar. I broke a string after sound check yesterday.”
When he walks out of the room, I glance at Shane. “I know he means well.”
With a nod, Shane says, “Nothing’s changed. Remember when he threatened your prom date in the limo?”
“How could I forget? Poor Tate wouldn’t even slow dance with me without leaving room for Jesus in the middle.”
Bending down, he reaches for a bottle of water from the fridge. Half is chugged before he points the top at me. “As a friend, I have a few words of advice. If you decide to screw someone randomly, you need to be safe. If you decide to screw a certain someone, you better keep it under wraps. The higher-ups have been clear about not fucking up the tour with sex, and if you think Tate had it bad . . . Tulsa will have it worse.”
He just comes right out and says his name
. It’s unsettling, like my secret rendezvous is written all over my face. “So you’re saying you’d rather me have sex with a random stranger than someone on the tour?”
“As your cousin, I don’t want to think about you having sex at all.” He shrugs. “Like I said, they’re just words of advice. Take ’em or leave ’em.” Garbled voices echo through the empty hall, and he adds, “Sounds like The Crow Brothers have arrived.” He takes another sip and walks out of the room.
I sink against the wall, needing the support. The only other time I’ve hidden a relationship from my family was when I was dating Andrés. Laird witnessed firsthand how that turned out. Tulsa’s nothing like him—not even close—but I still need to be careful with my heart. I’m not sure I can endure any more damage.
I bend to get a bottle of water, wondering how a few hours of fun had suddenly become a relationship like I just referenced in my mind. From behind me, I hear, “I like this view.” Turning around, I try to hide my ass as my hand goes to the hem of my dress. Laird’s right. The dress is too short. Tulsa leans against the doorway, holding out a lollipop for me and smiling. “I like this view even more. How are ya, darlin’?”
“Good. Fine.” I swirl my hand in the air and then snatch the candy. He’s such a tease. “Never better. Great.”
His smile fades as he takes me in. “Good. Fine. Never better. Great. Hmm. Lots to unpack there.”
“Nothing to unpack. I’m fine. Good.” I need to shut myself up. Why am I so nervous? “How are you?”
“Good. Fine. Never better. Great.”
He makes me smile. Bastard. “Okay. How about walking on sunshine and living on cloud nine?”
“I like that better.” He straightens back up and glances over his shoulder. “I have to go. Break a leg.”
“You too.”
“Maybe I’ll see you later?”
Twisting my ankle around, I shift and shove my hands in my pockets. What are we now? Tour mates? Friends? Friends with benefits? More? “Maybe.”
Tulsa Crow plays the innocent well, but he’s smarter than he lets on, and he has an uncanny way of reading my many moods—even when I can’t—and putting me at ease. “I’ll look for you later.”
