Page 62 of Sweet as Sin (Bad Habit 1)
“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.
I took it Nico didn’t do much apologizing.
“So I am.” He paused. “I’m also lettin’ you know if you ever so much as glance in her direction again, naked or not, I’ll rip off your fuckin’ heads.”
I sighed.
The woman on A.J.’s left side, a willowy blonde with remarkable cleavage in a BDSM-inspired black leather ensemble studded with silver grommets, pinned me with a stare so full of hatred I instinctively shrank closer to Nico.
“Your lady?” Her husky laugh was mocking. She slithered away from A.J. and came to stand in front of Nico with her hands on her hips, treating me as if I were invisible. Her perfume was gaggingly strong. “And here I thought I was your lady, loverboy.”
All the breath left my body as if I’d been punched in the chest. Nico had slept with this . . . this . . . slutty maneater! And holy . . . those legs! Those boobs! That silicone-filled, glossy mouth that looked like it could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch!
