Vérité (24 page)

Back in Los Angeles, I wasn’t a forever kind of girl.

With Pierre, I thought I could be one with him. And I was dead-on-balls wrong.

With Tiberius, I didn’t want to be one, but I was. Period.

The bottom line was that this situation was up to me to fix. Alone. So I decided to talk with Tiberius around Thanksgiving.

That’s what I had in mind when the guys played a game at home the night before Thanksgiving. Of course, I went and cheered like a crazy girl every time they pulled up for a three or ran the court for a layup. Tiberius was getting in his fair share of minutes and contributing to the team, and the guys appreciated him for it. They were winning, so everyone was on a high, especially after winning a home game and getting off until noon on Friday after Thanksgiving.

I didn’t wait outside the locker room; after the first time, I never went back there. I did wait by the back entrance for Tiberius, agreeing to go to a house party with them all. As we walked back toward campus, Chey and Stacy stepped in right behind us like heat-seeking missiles. They weren’t going to miss a good time with these guys. Ginny was spending the night with Bryce before she went home for the holiday, and he stayed behind to play on Saturday too.

We hurried through the wind toward an apartment past College Avenue. As soon as we crossed the threshold, everyone began hooting and cheering for the guys. Beers were passed around and the music was turned louder. The place was full of what were considered to be “ball babies”—girls who would do anything to hang with the team. Chey and Stacy didn’t fit so easily into the category because they were ball players too, but they certainly wanted to oust a few of the ball babies.

Tiberius skipped the beer, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out to dance. With his large hand spread on my hip bone, he moved us in sync; my hips and his were on the same page even when we weren’t between the sheets.

“You gonna tell me what’s up?” he yelled over the music into my ear, his arm flung around my back, holding me tight.

“Let’s not ruin this.”

“Tell me,” he growled into my ear.

“You just won, and I don’t want to do this here,” I insisted.

Before I knew it he dragged me back toward a bedroom, opening the door and locking us inside.

“Tell me, T,” he demanded, his deep voice rumbling throughout the vacant bedroom.

We were standing face-to-face, but not touching. He hovered close, but was careful to give me space. After all, I was a flight risk. If he got too close, I might bolt, and if he was too far away, he might not be able to catch me. It was a very dangerous game to be playing, and I needed to stop.

“You mentioned forever and you haven’t brought it back up,” I whispered, staring at the floor, hoping he couldn’t hear me over the vibrating beat.

“Because I know you’re gonna fucking run, that’s why. I saw the look on your face. You’re not ready for that word, and I’m not losing you over it. It’s gonna happen,” he said, then pressed me back against the door and kissed me hard.

“Maybe I am,” I muttered between kisses as wetness pooled in my panties.

“Then say it, Rex.” He lifted his head to see me, all of me. His eyes bored into mine, searching for the truth.

“Maybe I’m ready for forever. I don’t know. I’ve never even considered it before, not until you. Yeah, I thought about it with Pierre, but that was nothing more than a schoolgirl’s fuck-you to my parents thing. This feels real for the first time in my life, and I want that forever. Real.”

Without a word, Tiberius grabbed my hand and whipped the door open. Dragging me through the party, he fist-bumped everyone who crossed his path, saying, “Yo, see you all later,” in his New Jersey way, and we were out of there.

Chasing me back to my dorm, he stopped along the way to tease and taunt me with kisses and little nips at my neck. “You ready for me . . . forever?”

We tumbled through my front door, peeling off our clothes as we made it back to the bedroom before Tiberius said, “Gotta slow things.”

He took his time, taking off my bra and now-soaked boy shorts before spreading me on the bed in front of him. He dragged my body to the edge of the bed and knelt in front of me, sliding his tongue along me. It was slow and teasing, but I liked it. He was working me up, and I felt each touch of the tip of his tongue. When he finally flicked against where I wanted, I arched my back off the bed, wanting more.

“Oh, Ty,” I moaned, and he picked up the pace. He may not have had a lot of women before me, but Tiberius was completely in tune with my body. Maybe that’s what happened when it meant something.

I came on a string of moans and whimpers, and then I was pushed up to the pillows, Tiberius looming over me. I lifted my head and caught a glimpse of him stroking himself two or three times before diving inside me. Every nerve frazzled and sparked as he entered me. I felt each stroke, every movement, and I wanted to savor each one like an ice cream on a hot day.

“Feels so good, T,” he whispered across my cheek while he was deep inside me, moving leisurely. He kissed me, the remnants of my orgasm fresh on his lips. “So good,” he said as he nudged his shadowed face across mine, the short hairs of his scruff catching my smooth skin.

I cried out as he started moving faster. “Tiberius, yes, more. Faster,
bébé
.”

“English, Rex,” he muttered.

“Faster, baby,” I demanded, and he obliged.

We both held off as long as we could, taking every last ounce of pleasure before we came together. After we cleaned up, Tiberius said, “I can’t move, I’m exhausted, girl. Wanna stay here tonight, and Trey’ll get us in the morning?”

“’Kay. I have to send an e-mail in the morning to Lindsay about some stuff to review over the break. Can you believe she’s paying me to FaceTime with her on Saturday and Sunday so she can prepare for finals? The girl’s nuts.” I giggled.

“For her man,” he added.

“But I don’t know if it’s from a good place. More like she’s worried about him finding someone else while he’s abroad, or doesn’t trust him,” I mumbled as I snuggled into him. There were some advantages to my smaller bed, like being closer.

“You know that’s not me?” Tiberius said out of nowhere.

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m not looking at ball babies—”

I had to interrupt him with a laugh. The whole notion of ball babies was so funny to me. Then again, with my past, I shouldn’t make jokes.

“Or girls in other places.”

“I know, Tiberius. I know, babe,” I said, then stroked my hand down his arm and let it settle across his abdomen before I fell asleep.

“Oh shit, don’t do that!” Stacy’s shrill voice carried through the hall.

Groggy, I opened my eyes to hear some male grumbling that I couldn’t exactly make out before Chey screamed bloody murder. “Don’t you fucking manhandle my roommate. Get the fuck outta here, old man!”

I started to crawl toward the end of the bed to grab some clothes and see what was happening when someone burst through my door.

“Tingly!” He stopped and surveyed the scene, his eyes widening before he spoke again. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck did you do this time? Goddamn, I flew here to try and get your life back on track, just to see you made an even bigger fucking mess of it!”

“Dad?” was all I could make out. I hadn’t even felt or noticed Tiberius sit up behind me, looping his arms around me and pulling the blanket higher to cover my nakedness.

“Sir? Could you give us a minute to get decent?” Tiberius asked.

My father, Colt Simmons, standing here in the flesh and blood, was someone no one asked for a minute. He shook his head while fuming at us. “No, I certainly cannot. Get the hell out of my daughter’s room. She’s expecting someone else,” he roared.

Who else?

Just then, I heard more commotion at the door. Stacy and Chey were swearing up a storm. Thank God, sweet Ginny was still out. She would have no clue what to do with a scene like this.

“Colt?” I heard my mom yell. “Honey, we’re here!”

And then standing in my doorway were my mom and Pierre.

For Pete’s sake. Peet’s Coffee. Phillip Phillips.

I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand to make sure I wasn’t seeing a mirage, but Pierre was actually there. He looked rumpled and tired, but confused by the scene in front of him.

“
Ma chérie
, what are you doing? Your father said you’re waiting for me. Who is this?” he asked in his overdone French accent.

My gaze pinged like a dodgeball from one person to the next, my head whipping from one side to the other as I took in the crazy scene in front of me.

“I need you to leave right now,” my father gritted out as he stared bullets at Tiberius. When Ty didn’t move, my father yelled, “Now!”

“I think that would be for the best,” my mom suggested in her prim-and-proper society voice, yet Tiberius still didn’t move, only gave me a wary sideways glance as he waited for me to give him a clue what I wanted him to do.

I needed to say something, but my throat was as dry as the Sahara. I tried clearing it and a small squeak came through my vocal cords. “He’s not going,” I made out.

“The hell he’s not,” my dad said, whipping off his navy sport coat and rolling up the sleeves of his French blue dress shirt as if he engaged in fistfights every day. He worked in a posh office with two secretaries waiting on him hand and foot. The only fighting he did was over the phone with his massage therapist when he couldn’t fit him in.

“Tigger, what is this? What did you do?” This from Pierre, who coincidentally was not rolling up his sleeves.

“Don’t you dare call me that.” I glared missiles at the Frenchman.

“Tingly, you’re embarrassing the family name with this . . . this boy.” My mother paused, her eyes growing wide before she asked, “Did he force you?”

As usual, Mom’s strawberry-blonde hair was perfectly styled in a bob. Today she was wearing a pale pink St. John sweater set with matching slacks, and had silver Tory Burch ballet flats on her feet. She looked like the Pink Panther ready for the Junior League annual meeting while I sat naked in front of her, wearing nothing but a sheet, all flushed after several rounds of sex with a very large, very virile black man. As I stared at my supposedly newly married French ex-lover in front of me, a giggle bubbled up in my throat at the sheer lunacy of the situation.

Dad narrowed his eyes at me. “This is not funny, missy.”

I shook my head and managed to choke out, “I know, but Tiberius isn’t leaving.”

“Sir,” my dad reminded me.

“Sir,” I added automatically, then forced myself not to roll my eyes at him before I turned my gaze on my mother. “Mom, what are you doing with Pierre?”

“Dad and I decided it was time to see you happy, and we know he devastated you when he left, so we brought him back. For you.” Then on a whisper, she added, “It didn’t work out with that other girl, but Dad still sweetened the deal with a job and a house, plus he told Pierre you guys would share the trust with us if it all worked out.”

“So, kick the bum out and figure the hell out when you’re going to start your life with the Frenchman, Tingly,” my dad said as if this were a merger and acquisition. “He’s back, and we need a moving date and a wedding date.”

Incredulous at their audacity, I glared at them. “The trust is all mine . . . it was never yours. So if you think giving me Pierre is going to make me feel generous with
my
trust, you’re wrong. I don’t want Pierre.”

Tiberius stood from the bed and snagged his boxers, shoving his long legs through them before stalking over to my dad. “Get out!” His six-foot-five-inch frame loomed over my dad when he said for the second time, “Get the hell out!” He then turned to my former professor. “And you, Pierre”—it sounded like
Pear
coming from Tiberius—“go the fuck back to France. Tingly’s mine.”

“I’m not going anywhere, especially now that I see who my slut of a daughter is planning on sharing my money with,” my dad spit back at Tiberius before turning to me. “And, Tingly, that is and will be
my
money. Your grandparents were not of sound mind when they left that to you. We are going to make you happy and work this all out.” He stepped around Tiberius as though he weren’t of any consequence to walk toward me and grab my shoulder harder than I expected.