The Day She Cried Page 14

  He scowls as he trots over to me. When he sees Whitney, his expression softens. She’s pretty to those who don’t know she’s a cunt.

  “Take care of Miss McConnell,” I instruct.

  He nods and motions for her to follow. I pull out my phone and send Courtney a quick text.

  Me: Don’t come out. Your psycho ex-best friend decided to show up.

  Courtney: OMG. Ugh!

  Me: It’s fine. Jamal can take care of her.

  She sends me a picture of her tits and I groan.

  Courtney: Maybe YOU can take care of ME.

  I haul ass toward the supply room because today is a good day to christen the shop.

  Courtney

  “I have to go,” I say with a laugh. “My shift starts in an hour. I still need to shower and get ready.”

  “I’ll bathe you,” Rome teases.

  He has his heavy arm thrown over my chest and his nose buried in my hair. Harvey Benjamin is lying across my legs. It’s as if they plotted out this little scheme beforehand to keep me here and away from work.

  “You two are devious.”

  Rome’s hand finds my cheek and he turns my head so that our mouths meet. He kisses me sweetly. “We just like you in our bed.”

  His words warm me from the inside out. “Believe me, I’d rather stay here.”

  “So quit. The diner doesn’t need you.”

  I let out a sad sigh. “I would if I could, but you know I have to keep working there to pay tuition.” He went with me when I enrolled in my classes and paid for this semester’s tuition and books, so he knows I’m completely broke now.

  “When do we get you back in our bed?” he asks, his hand cupping my bare breast.

  “I can come back over tonight.”

  “I’ll pick you up at seven.” His lips kiss a trail down my throat.

  “When will my car be fixed?” I ask. “I hate that you have to drive me everywhere.”

  “I like driving you everywhere.”

  His mouth sucks on my nipple and I let out a loud moan that has Harvey Benjamin freeing my legs as he moves to his recliner. Anytime we have sex, the dog sighs the entire time from the chair, as if he’s annoyed we’re choosing to play without him. I start giggling and Rome lifts up to look down at me. His mouth is red from sucking on me and his eyes are sleepy. Long black strands of hair hang down over his brows and some scruff is growing in on his cheeks. He’s so incredibly hot that sometimes I have to simply stare at him. Often, I want to slap my teenage self for not seeing him before recently. This gorgeous, intense man had been literally sitting behind me—watching me—for years and I’d done my best to ignore him.

  Rome maneuvers himself between my thighs and fucks me gently, his green eyes drinking up my features. When he looks at me like that, it drives me insane with happiness. We lose ourselves to the act, and the moment we both come, I clean up, gather my things, give him a quick kiss, and then bolt.

  I’m still smiling as I walk outside to where my mom’s car is that I borrowed.

  Flash.

  Flash. Flash. Flash.

  “Miss Moss, is it true you’re having a romantic relationship with the brother of the girl you drove to suicide?”

  Flash. Flash. Flash.

  It takes me a moment to analyze the scene before me. Reporters everywhere. At least from five or six different local news stations. Their vans line the street in front of Rome’s house.

  “W-What are you doing here?” I stammer out.

  A guy with too much makeup on shoves a microphone in my face. “Can you tell the viewers of the News on Seven, why you’ve been staying with Rome Murray?”

  I shake my head. “What? No. This is none of your business.” I fumble in my purse for my keys.

  “Is this even legal? Does Rome Murray have a restraining order against you? A source tells us you were reaching out to an attorney to sue Rome Murray. Is this true? What are you suing him for?” a woman rambles out so many questions, half of them barely register.

  “I’m not suing him,” I choke out, my face turning bright red as I realize Jackson might have tipped them off.

  “Miss Moss,” the heavily made up male reporter interrupts, shoving between the woman and myself. “If you’ll please answer my questions.” He bumps against me and I fall onto my ass, the contents of my purse spilling all over the grass. They crowd around me and I begin to panic.

  “How did it feel when you knowingly led the Murray woman through a bogus relationship? Did you enjoy misleading her? Do you feel responsible for her death?”

  The guy with the pink cheeks and rosy lips once again shoves his mic in my face. I swat it away, but he’s relentless.

  Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark!

  A growling resounds out behind me and then a big, goofy white dog I love so much charges into the throng of reporters surrounding me. Several of them cry out and jump away as he sidles himself next to me. His body is coiled and tense, as if he’s ready to bite anyone who dares get in my face again.

  “It’s okay, Harvey Benjamin,” I whisper as I run my fingers down his spine.

  The Ken doll reporter isn’t fazed. Apparently getting the next biggest story is more important than his life.

  “Miss Moss, if you’ll answer the question. Are you or aren’t you with the man whose sister you murdered?”

  He’s suddenly jerked away from me. HB whines in approval. Rome stands over me, his chest heaving with fury in nothing but a pair of black boxers. He’s an avenging angel. Darkness and rage. Hell personified. With a growl that is far scarier than anything HB could muster, Rome swings his hand out, pointing at them all.

  “She’s with me. She’s mine. Get the fuck off my property,” he snarls.

  “Aren’t you afraid she’s setting you up like she set up your sister?” a reporter bellows.

  I let out a squeak when Rome kneels and scoops me into his arms. When he rises, everyone’s eyes are on us, many in shock. I bury my face against the side of his neck, my lips pressed against his raven, so I don’t have to see them.

  “I guess that answers my questions,” the girly man reporter huffs.

  Rome doesn’t reply but instead stalks back toward the house. I can hear the jangling of HB’s collar as he follows behind us. Once we’re inside and Rome sits down on the sofa with me in his arms, I burst into tears. HB jumps up beside me and tries to lick the sadness away from my cheeks.

  “I’m s-sorry,” I sob. “This is all my f-fault.”

  Rome grips my hips and maneuvers me until I’m straddling him. His fingers thread into my hair and he pulls me until our mouths press together.

  “This is not your fault. They’re assholes,” he mutters, biting on my bottom lip.

  Another tear races down my cheek as he kisses me. I find the strength to push away from him and regard him. “It is my fault, though.”

  He scowls as his palm grips the front of my throat. Firmly, he tugs me to him. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does,” I rasp out when he squeezes.

  “It doesn’t matter what happened in the past or what they say. The only thing that matters is…” He trails off and swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. I want to drag my tongue along the front of it.

  “What?” I encourage, my body grinding shamelessly against his now-hard cock.

  “All that matters is that I love you.”

  I blink several times in confusion. “You what?”

  “I love you,” he tells me, his voice gravelly with need. “And you love me too.”

  Two weeks later…

  “Tacos,” Mike says, grinning wickedly.

  I used to hate him because he was a bully and kind of disgusting, but he’s growing on me. “You only want tacos because you’re a perv,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

  “I already ordered pizza,” Rome barks out as he knocks Mike’s hat off. “And stop talking to my woman.”

  Mike winks at me. “So this is a bad time to tell you Court and I have been havin
g a secret affair?”

  Rome doesn’t take the bait as he wraps himself around me from behind. He gropes my breasts in a possessive way. “My woman prefers giant cocks. Not whatever baby creature you’re packin’ in your tighty-whities.”

  Mike curls his lip up. “Haven’t you ever heard the saying? It’s not about the size of the boat.” He thrusts his hips and licks his lips. “It’s the motion of the ocean.”

  I laugh and Rome nips at the side of my neck. “Don’t you have someone else to bother at this party?”

  Mike’s eyes widen and his grin is wolfish. “I hear Dottie’s available. I bet she wouldn’t complain about the size of my boat.” He saunters off, leaving us alone in the kitchen.

  My phone buzzes and I pull it from my pocket as Rome sucks on my neck.

  Mom: Make sure to bring the car by Keith’s in the morning. I have some errands to run. Love you.

  I reply back that I will before setting my phone down on the counter. Turning in Rome’s arms, I look up and smile. “When will my car be ready? I’m starting to think you’re keeping it hostage.”

  He snorts, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. “That piece of shit needs a lot of work.” When he rattles off a bunch of car talk, I shake my head.

  “You lost me at timing belt.”

  He laughs and kisses my mouth. “I could teach you about other belts.”

  Heat floods to my core. “You plan on spanking me?”

  “Oh, much better than that, beautiful. You lack imagination.” His palm wraps around my throat and then I get on the same page as him.

  “You’re obsessed with my neck,” I tease.

  He bites my flesh below my ear. “I am.”

  “Did you like choking all your other girlfriends?”

  A sound of irritation escapes him as he runs his thumb along the outside of my throat in such a gentle way it causes me to shiver with anticipation. “Only you.”

  “Oh, gee, I feel so special,” I deadpan. “I’m the only chick my guy wants to choke down.”

  He laughs and tugs on my earlobe with his teeth. “Maybe I ought to whip you after all, smartass.”

  “So you’re a sadist too,” I observe playfully.

  “You like it when I hurt you,” he replies, his tone dead serious.

  Arousal floods through me and I know my panties are embarrassingly wet. “You’re a tease.” The words are barely out of my mouth before he has me scooped into his powerful arms. People holler and cheer as we pass them. It isn’t until we’re in his bedroom with the door closed and Harvey Benjamin sighing in annoyance that he shows me just how serious he is.

  “Get on your knees, sheep.” Now when he calls me sheep, it’s meant to tease, not hurt.

  I grin as I obey. He tears off his T-shirt and I admire his tattooed, sculpted chest. My God, he’s so hot. I know he works out a lot, but damn, I feel lacking in comparison. He’s all hard, beautiful curves. My curves are soft and squishy. Especially now that he feeds me all the time. I swear I’ve gained ten pounds with him. His favorite thing to do is bite on my bare stomach that’s extra pudgy as of late because of all the pizza and tacos. I’m proud to say the last cut was weeks ago. My stomach is healing up and I think secretly that’s one of the reasons he seems to adore me there.

  He unbuckles his belt and rips it from the loops with a swish that makes my core clench. His jeans hang low on his hips and the white band of his boxers peeks over the top. I’m desperate to rip them down and watch his heavy cock bob out. To lick the tip until he greedily shoves the entire thing past my lips and fucks my face.

  “Someone’s hungry for cock,” he notes, a devilish grin on his face. “But bad girls don’t get cock.”

  I laugh, but then he roughly wraps the belt around my throat, careful to pull my hair out after. He runs his fingers through my silky blond strands.

  “I love you,” he mutters to himself, a frown on his handsome face.

  “I love you too,” I tell him quickly and rise so I can kiss his mouth.

  The darkness evaporates from his mood as he kisses me hard. I’m manhandled out of my clothes and then pushed over the edge of the bed. He drives into me without warning. My neck screams in pain when he jerks on the belt still around my throat. His hand clutches my hip in a possessive way while he keeps me pulled back just far enough away from the bed that I can’t reach the mattress to support myself. Stars glitter my vision as I begin to lose consciousness. He pounds into me relentlessly. As I start to black out and the rasping coming from me dies down, I nearly explode when his hand leaves my hip to touch my clit. I was slipping, but now I’m very much in the present as I desperately chase the orgasm on the horizon.

  “That’s it,” he urges, his voice low. “Come for me and I’ll let your pretty neck go.”

  His words blanket me. The nerves rattling through me seem to explode the moment I tip over the edge. This time, I do black out, but the pleasure pulsating through me keeps me roused and awake. I come so hard my knees buckle. He releases the belt and wraps an arm around the front of my chest. His kisses on my shoulder are reverent as he fucks me until he loses his mind.

  A groan.

  Heat.

  I should make sure he understands—that what we’re doing is playing a dangerous game.

  When I tense, he misconstrues it for something else. Quickly, he yanks the belt away and twists me around to face him. With a sweetness I didn’t know he possessed, he rains kisses down all over my face. I melt at his tender touch.

  Maybe he does know. Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe everything will be okay.

  “Pizza’s here, fuckers,” Mike bellows from the other side of the door.

  Harvey Benjamin barks because pizza is his favorite.

  “Let’s get cleaned up and you fed before that moron eats it all.”

  He steals one more kiss before letting me go.

  “I’m going to bed,” I say with a yawn.

  The guys are locked in an intense poker game. It’s well after midnight and I’m bored. Rome turns to give me a kiss before peeking at his cards again. I leave the kitchen, passing a few people making out in the living room, and head to Rome’s room. When I pass Raven’s room, I can’t help but go inside. Just for a moment.

  The room is just as it was the last time I was here. Rome promises we’ll go through it one day. I’m eager to look through her things and learn more about her. In a perfect world, I would’ve befriended her and flirted with her brother in high school. He and I could have been an item long ago.

  And Raven would still be alive.

  With a tightness in my chest, I close the door behind me and walk over to her desk. I sit in the chair and dig around. I’ve already been through most of her stuff now. I keep thinking I’ll uncover something new.

  As I look around the room, I recall a memory from the past.

  LonelyLogan69: I miss you. What are you doing?

  PoetPrincess99: Writing in my journal.

  LonelyLogan69: Like a diary?

  PoetPrincess99: Something like that.

  I frown as I think about a diary my mom bought me once. It was pink and leather-bound. The tiny lock was gold and had two keys. I didn’t ever write anything in it. Never really had anything to say. It felt stupid, like I was talking to myself. And when Whitney found it one day, she went crazy trying to pick the lock. It was one of the few fights we had. We were both fourteen and she had just gotten braces. I remember exactly the way her lip curled up in disgust, but it revealed her metal mouth, which had me fighting a giggle.

  “What are you hiding?”

  Her question hurt me because I told Whitney everything. She was upset with me and I hadn’t done anything wrong. Her playfulness melted away to meanness as she tried to bully me into unlocking the diary. Eventually, with tears rolling down my cheeks, I gave in and threw the keys at her. She unlocked it and stared at the only page I’d written on.

  Whitney + Courtney = BFFs 4 Ever

  She cried and apologized. Of co
urse I accepted her apology. That’s what best friends do.

  LonelyLogan69: Is it pink? Does it have a lock on it?

  PoetPrincess99: I’m eighteen, not twelve.

  She sends a picture of her peeking over the top of the teal leopard print composition book. Her black eyebrow is arched in a way that has a thrill of excitement rippling through me. She’s so pretty. I don’t know how I missed it before. But she is. Her cheekbones are high and her eyes tell stories that I want to hear. With her height and build, she could be a model. Unlike my shorter, more muscular frame, Raven has a stunning body that most women starve themselves to achieve. I still can’t believe she doesn’t have a boyfriend.

  I’m her boyfriend.

  I smile and it’s bittersweet. It’s strange. I feel as though I really do have a relationship with Raven. Half the time, I’m convinced I’m this Zac Efron lookalike named Logan who’s her boyfriend.

  LonelyLogan69: Do you write about me in your journal?

  PoetPrincess99: No.

  A pang of sadness causes my eyes to prickle with tears.

  LonelyLogan69: Sheesh. Thanks.

  PoetPrincess99: It’s not what you think. What are you wearing?

  Once again, she deflects and changes the subject. This is what always throws me off. She easily distracts me because I have to quickly describe an outfit I’d see Lee wearing and not accidentally tell her I’m wearing a T-shirt and a pair of panties. I certainly don’t tell her that every time I message with her, I find my finger rubbing against the silky fabric along my pussy.

  LonelyLogan69: Boxers.

  PoetPrincess99: Oooh, tell me more.

  LonelyLogan69: There is no more to tell.

  PoetPrincess99: Naughty boy.

  “Where are you hiding?” I murmur aloud as I scan the bedroom. I’ve been through her desk, so I know the teal journal is not there. Quickly, I rummage through her closet but don’t turn up anything. If I were Raven, where would I hide my journal?

  I think back to her poem that was stuck randomly in her other notebook. It seemed out of place and like it didn’t belong. A message rather than a poem. Of course I memorized her words. I always do.