by Scott, S. L.
“I’ve been ready since the I do’s.”
* * *
Tulsa
Buried against her neck, I kiss her soft skin, wanting to suck and leave a mark like she just did on my chest. “I’m so fucking hard for you.” I press my cock against her stomach, needing her to feel it.
Nikki’s hands slide under the back of my shirt, and her hold only encourages my desire to fuck her right here in the elevator.
“God, I want you so much.” My body grinds against her. These jeans are way too tight. They need to be off right the fuck now.
Her voice is quiet, but I hear when she whispers against my chest, “Me too.”
Her fingers curl, her nails scraping to a halt when the elevator stops. Pushing herself against the mirrored wall, she tilts her head to the side to try to catch my eyes just before the doors open. “Be good.”
The tease.
“No promises,” I say, giving her a wink and then checking the buttons to see when we’ll reach our floor. Fifteen floors to go. Fuck.
The doors open to a woman who waves. “Sorry, I pushed the wrong button. I’m going down.”
My gaze meets Nikki’s just from hearing the phrase. The doors close and she says, “I’m going down.”
“There are cameras in the elevator.”
“Then we’re busted already, so it doesn’t matter.”
Before she has a chance to follow through, I grab her by the waist. “Twelve floors.”
The elevator finally dings, and the race begins. Nikki pushes off the wall and strides past me with a purpose. On a mission myself, I let her lead but follow closely on her tail . . . oh, the naughty thoughts that come to mind watching that fine ass.
With the key in hand, she jabs it into the slot. Then again. And again, because she keeps getting the red light instead of green. I hope this isn’t a sign of things to come once we’re inside.
Wrapping my hand around hers, I pull it back until the card slides out. “Nice and slow.” Moving her hand forward, we stick the card back into the slot. “Ease it in.” When we get the green, I whisper into her ear, “Now pull it out slowly, like this.” The straps of her dress loosen and then tighten as her chest rises and falls with each breath. Her tits look incredible.
She steps away from me and puts her back to the door, propping it open. “I never took you for a nice and slow kind of guy.”
“Gotta know your audience, darlin’.” I strut past her. She may not know all my tricks, but I have a pretty good grasp of hers. She’s a lot of talk but loves the action if handled just right. And I know how to handle her just right.
After I set the stuff from my pockets on the dresser, I remember a tradition I’ve seen in the movies. Turning back, I rush to scoop her into my arms and carry her outside the room again while she squeals in surprise. “What are you doing, Tulsa?”
The metal chain of her purse hits me in the balls, and I flinch. Fuck. “Toss the bag.” She does with a roll of her eyes, and then we let the door close again. Dipping her down, I kiss her nice and slow, the theme of the night.
When I lean back, she’s smiling. As I hold her, I say, “Even though we have all these screwed-up rules in place about hiding the best thing that ever happened to us, I want to get this part right because you deserve to be treated like the beautiful bride you are.”
Running her hand over my cheek, she says, “You’re going to make me cry. That’s so sweet.”
There are no tears in sight, and her smile tips more into the playful side than sweet. “You’re not really going to cry, are you?”
“No,” she says, leaning her head back and laughing. “I’m not that much of a crier.” With her arms around my neck, she leans against my shoulder. “You’ve made me too happy to cry anyway.”
“My mom used to cry happy tears. That’s what she called them.”
“What made her so happy she’d cry?”
“Her kids.” And then I’m rewarded with her sweet smile again.
“That’s beautiful.” Glancing at the door, she asks, “Want to go in? I’ll let you make me so happy that I’ll cry out your name.”
“Clever. I see what you did there, Mrs. Crow. Very tricky.”
“You’re not the only one with game, Mr. Faris.”
She doesn’t punctuate that statement with a verbal boom, but I hear it in my head. “My wife is feisty.”
“She is.” Pretending to recline in my arms, she asks, “Am I heavy?”
“Not at all, ya lightweight.”
“Just you wait and see. I’m going to pack on some love pounds now that I’m married. I can eat pasta again. And rice. Oh, my God. It’s been so long since I had those.”
I don’t even know what she’s going on about other than, apparently, she doesn’t eat the foods I consider staples in my house. I’m a hunter, but that consists of me gathering food from the pantry or the freezer and heating it up. Now I’m wondering what my California girl eats when she’s at home. “Sorry to interrupt your daydreams about food, but stick the card in. I have a few daydreams of my own that include your naked body on top of mine.”
“I don’t have the card. I put it in my purse. Use yours.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Oh, shit what?”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
“Fuck what, Tulsa? Open the door.”
The panic in her voice is clear, so I try to counter it with calm. “It’s no biggie. We’re just locked out of the room.”
“What?” she exclaims, her voice pitching.
“My key is in my wallet . . . on the dresser. Okay. Let’s not worry. We’ll have them send up a key. Oh, wait. Shit. My phone’s in there too.”
“We’re going to have to go to the front desk.”
“Not how I intended to start our night.”
I set her down, and she pats my chest. “It’s just all part of the adventure.” Taking my hand, we start walking back toward the elevators. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Well, I would. If I had my way, I’d be buried inside my wife already. Patience, Crow. Patience. Fuck. I’m so screwed.
24
Tulsa
We step up to the counter and lean in to make sure no one else hears us. “We’re locked out of our room.”
The woman looks back and forth between the two of us as if we’re criminals and she’s about to call the police to report us. Then she lowers her head and starts typing. “I’ll need to see your ID, sir.”
“Well, that’s a funny story actually . . .” She looks up, not amused. I want to tell her how I just married this stunning woman, the love of my life, and I wanted to carry her over the threshold, but since we’re not allowed to talk about it, I say, “I put it right on the dresser but then stepped out, and the door closed.”
“Pity. Unfortunately, without ID, I can’t issue a new key.” She turns her attention to Nikki. “Do you have ID? I can look up the room with your credit card or driver’s license.”
Nikki sighs and rests her head on my arm. “I don’t. On some very bad advice, I tossed my purse into the room . . . before the door closed on us.”
The front desk clerk begins typing furiously, the keyboard taking the brunt of her irritation. “What’s your name?”
“Tulsa Crow.”
Nikki turns around and starts people watching while we wait.
Typing and more typing ensues.
Then she stops. Her gaze slides up from the screen to me. “I’ve got no time for jokes. It may be three in the morning, but please save your pranks for another day.”
“What prank? I don’t understand.”
“The name you claim as yours is one of our VIP guests, but you know that already.” She whispers between tensed lips, “Please leave, or I’ll call security.”
“But I’m him. Me. I’m Tulsa. For real. I play in a band—”
“Next you’ll tell me she’s the lead singer of Faris Wheel.” Turning to the side, she raises her arm into the air. “Security!”<
br />
“Wait! I really can prove who I am. You can look me up onli—”
“Back away from the desk.”
Nikki is laughing, but I’m really getting annoyed. I just want to be with my wife. “Tulsa?” I know the voice as soon as I hear it. I stare at the clerk behind the counter, hoping Dex keeps on walking. “Hey, what’s up, man?” Dex asks just as Nikki turns around. Furrowing his brow in confusion, he checks the time on his watch. “Hey, Nikki. What are you guys up to at this hour?”
Rochelle is tucked under his arm, and with a smile, she says, “Hi, guys.”
And then the worst acting ever begins. Over-the-top exaggeration of everything, I start with my fake surprise expression when I look at Nikki. “Nikki? What are you doing here?”
If she weren’t giving me her are-we-really-doing-this look with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, I know she’d be smiling. Paddling to friendlier waters, I do smile. “Rochelle, good to see you.” I hug her, hoping to muffle any questions she might have regarding why Nikki and I are together at the front desk at three in the morning.
As soon as I release her, Rochelle asks, “What are you doing here together?” Her gaze flicks back and forth before settling on me.
Guess it didn’t work.
Dex is staring at us in silence, not much different from his usual expression. He’s onto us, no doubt. I start to cave under the pressure. Tugging at my collar, which isn’t even buttoned, I plead for Nikki’s help. Silently, with my eyes, of course.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I see a security guard taking his sweet time as he comes for us. “The front desk clerk thinks we’re impersonating Tulsa and Nikki.”
“You are Tulsa and Nikki,” Rochelle says, pointing at us.
“We tried to tell her,” Nikki says, closing our small circle and waggling a finger between us. “This is not what you think.”
This is good. She’ll improvise better than I can. She’s used to being center stage. They shift their attention to her in curiosity while she scans the lobby and then leans in. Automatically, the three of us lean in even closer to hear her. “We didn’t just run into each other down here.”
Wait, what? Where’s she going with this?
“Tulsa and I got married,” she says, wrapping her arms around my left bicep and letting out a tiny squeal.
“What?” Dex and Rochelle’s question and shock blur into each other’s, but then Dex asks, “Come again?”
Rochelle whispers, “Didn’t you just meet in LA?”
As Nikki stands there like the beautiful, beaming bride she is, hanging onto my arm, a security guard grabs my other. “Come with me, sir.”
It all started so innocently.
“Get your hands off him,” Dex warns. His mistake is reaching to remove the guard’s hand.
Grabbed from behind, two other guards take hold of him. “Do you have weapons on your person?”
“Get the fuck off—”
Whether bandmate or brother, we stick together. I lunge forward to help because my ass is grass if one of my bosses gets arrested because of me. But more so because it’s a friend who’s just been blindsided.
I free my arm, but then I’m zapped, sending electrical currents coursing through my body. I drop to my knees, and then my chest hits the purple and gray swirling carpet. The heel of a workman’s boot pushes on my back to hold me down as Nikki gasps and calls my name.
The threats from the security guard are spewed from above me, “Don’t move . . . Lie still . . . under arrest . . . Step back, or I’ll arrest you too, ma’am.”
Ma’am? Nikki?
Fuck.
Turning to the side, I watch as Rochelle grabs Nikki’s hand and pulls her away while I lie breathless from the weight of the boot on my back. The last view I have of her is with the tears she should never be crying sliding down her cheeks.
They disappear into the crowd, and Dex and I are left lying here in the middle of the fucking lobby. My body hurts like I just ran a marathon and collapsed at the finish line—all aches and muscle spasms. Well, I imagine this is what it feels like since I’ve never run a marathon.
Handcuffs are slapped on my wrists, and I’m yanked to my feet with my hands behind my back. Not the first time, but I never thought it would happen again. Face-to-face with Dex, who’s also sporting the latest in handcuff fashion, I say, “Well, this didn’t go as planned.”
“Does her brother know?”
“No. We were going to surprise our families after the tour.”
“They’ll be surprised all right.” Finding humor in this unfortunate event, he laughs. “Was that your first stun gun experience?”
“Yeah. I take it you’ve been tagged before?”
“I walked on the wild side when I was your age. I have a feeling you’ll have more to worry about than a stun gun,” he adds as we’re led out of the hotel.
“Like?”
“What would you do if someone married your twin sister in Vegas without you knowing?” He chuckles. “Once he finds out, you might be safer behind bars.”
Fuck.
* * *
“Sorry.” It’s weak because I’m embarrassed and feel like shit for taking Dex down with me.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure the charges will be dropped.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because we didn’t do anything wrong.” Leaning against the wall of the drunk tank, Dex stretches his legs out in front of him. “Anyway, if they really felt threatened, the cops would have put us in a jail cell.”
“You have priors?”
“Drunk and disorderly. Tonight, I wasn’t either. I assumed you were drunk since you married Nikki.” Leaning forward, he rests his arms on his legs and rubs his hands over his face. “What were you thinking marrying her, man?”
Resting back against the cold concrete, I lower my head. “I love her.”
“You don’t even know her.”
“I know her. More than anyone can imagine.”
“Fucking her is different than knowing her.”
I laugh, though it’s not funny. “We haven’t even had sex yet.”
His gaze darts to me. “Wait a minute. Back up. You haven’t had sex, but you married a woman you’ve known all of what . . . six weeks?”
I nod, giving him all the confirmation he needs.
He starts chuckling. “Damn, you must be in love. Do your brothers know?”
“No. Only you and Rochelle.”
“Wow, this is some honeymoon.”
“You’re telling me.”
A cop comes to the door. “Crow. Caggiano. You’re out.”
Dex hits my shoulder. “Tommy’s here.”
* * *
Tommy is twisted in his seat so he can make eye contact while lecturing us. At least that’s what he said. We’re not far from the hotel, so he’s been talking a mile a minute. “They’re not pressing charges. A formal public apology will be issued if the news hits any sites.”
Dex asks, “It hasn’t already?”
“The good thing is it happened so fast and at a time of night when many people weren’t in the lobby. I don’t think they knew who you were until it was too late. Rochelle will handle any videos that do hit, though.”
“I heard some bullshit about a key, but,” he asks, eyeing me, “what’s the real story, Crow?”
“I tried to get a key to my room after getting locked out. They claimed I wasn’t who I said I was. They thought I was a stalker of the famous Tulsa Crow.” I can’t help but laugh.
He doesn’t say anything as he takes me in. After what feels like an hour, he says, “I saw the video.”
There’s video? Shit.
“Good.” Dex is a good guy for trying to cover for me. “Then you saw everything that went down with those assholes.”
Tommy snickers. “Yeah, I saw everything all right.”
Why am I suddenly worried? “When you say everything, you mean Dex and me getting cuffed, right?”
�
��We had them pull the footage from outside your room as well to prove you were telling the truth about getting locked out.”
And that would be why I was worried.
Dex asks Tommy, “And?”
“And it seems the youngest Crow bro and Nikki are, um . . . what are we calling it, Tulsa?”
“Married.”
That word is dangerous. Every time I say it, people get whiplash. Tommy rubs the back of his neck, but his eyes are still wide, staring back at me. “What the—” He turns on Dex. “Did you know about this?”
I step in to put the focus where it needs to be, back on me. “He didn’t know. Nobody knew until we tried to get into our room and locked ourselves out of it.”
Tommy sits back with his arm across the seat in front of us. “What a mess. I doubt Johnny will be happy about this.” Then he shakes his head and chuckles, although it sounds pained. “Laird is going to fucking freak.”
Dex laughs. “I told Tulsa he was safer in jail.”
Tommy chuckles. “For sure.”
“I’m so glad you guys are having a good laugh at my expense, but I don’t get why everyone’s so worried about his reaction. She’s a grown woman who can make her own decisions.”
Still laughing, Tommy says, “Your reputation precedes you, my friend. Also, let me remind you that you only met her six weeks ago. He’s not going to be worried about the marriage. He’s gonna flip out because you’re having sex with his sister.”
Dex says, “He’s not.” Then shrugs. “Apparently, Crow can keep it in his pants.”
“Wow, impressive.” Tommy exhales heavily. “I’d lead with that.”
“I’m not leading with anything. Nikki and I decided to wait to tell everyone until after the tour. There’s enough to worry about already. She’s coming back to Austin with me for our three days off. Can you keep this under wraps?”
They stop laughing, and Tommy asks, “I’m a fan of Nikki’s. I think she’s great, but what made you want to settle down with her?”
“She’s not like other women.” As soon as I start talking, I feel stupid for admitting that. “She’s just different.”
