Games Divas Play (A Diva Mystery Novel) (31 page)

“Are you shaking?” he asked as he looked up at me and laughed. His kisses were torture as his lips moved along the silk band around my hips and then his dark head moved lower between my legs. I inhaled sharply as he began to stroke me through the panties with his tongue. My body arched to meet him, my legs shaking. His teasing rhythm with both his tongue and fingers through the material became more insistent as I felt waves of ecstasy build. I moaned and squeezed his body, urging him to increase the pace as tiny quakes of pleasure rocketed through my body. He finally pushed aside the delicate material and plunged his tongue deep inside me. I felt like I was floating above the bed as my breathing quickened, and I moaned his name over and o
ver again.

“I love it when you respond to me like that,” he said as he stepped out of his jeans and black fitted boxers, looking quite pleased with himself. Taking in the sight of his rippled naked body, I stretched my body as a smile danced acros
s my lips.

“And I love it when you make me feel like that,” I said huskily as I wiggled out of the thong. I wagged my finger for him to join me. As he slipped onto the bed, I straddled his pelvis, pushing my silky folds up against his hardness. I leaned down to kiss him and asked if he had a condom. He rolled over to the side of the bed and reached down to his jeans for a foil-wrapped square. A few seconds later he was back unde
rneath me.

As I enveloped him inside my tight warmth, I looked up at the ceiling and then closed my eyes as I enjoyed the delic
ious ride.

“Damn, Nia . . . ,” he moaned huskily. We were both lost in the thrusts of pleasure and reconnection as our bodies became one. He pushed up against me and sat up in the bed so that we were eye to eye as I braced my knees against the mattress and placed my arms around his back and slid slowly up
and down.

“Oh God. Nia.” Suddenly he put his arm around my waist and flipped me onto my back. I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him into me as my arms wrapped around his back. As my tongue traced along his collarbone, I tasted the salt of perspiration as his pace increased. He pushed me down deeper into the bed as we looked into each other’s eyes. Our breathing quickened as we started to climb the summit, feeling the first teases of ou
r orgasms.

“Nia . . . Nia . . . Nia,” Terrence moaned in my ear as I clenched his back and felt the tingles of pleasure rising. He thrust into me harder as he caressed my cheek and felt my muscles tighten around him as both of our bodies contracted in warm, delicious waves of af
tershocks.

Exhausted, we both collapsed. Unable to move as our bodies struggled to regulate our breathing, Terrence gathered me in his arms and rolled over on his back. I rested my head against his chest and threw my leg across his thighs, trying to get clos
er to him.

“That was amazing,” Terrence said when he caught his breath. He stroked my hair and kissed the top o
f my head.

“I would have to agree,” I said as I nestled into the crook o
f his arm.

As I listened to his beating heart—his breathing slowed into a rhythmic pace, his chest rising up and down slowly—I fought to keep my own eyes open. It felt good to be in his arms again. Safe. Protect
ed. Loved.

For this moment nothing else
mattered.

I stretched against Terrence’s warm naked body and yawned. The curtains were still closed in the bedroom, so I couldn’t tell what time it was. With Terrence’s heavy arm across my waist, I sat up as best I could and looked over at the clock on the nightstand. It was almost noon. We’d been asleep for about four hours, and my flight was at t
wo thirty.

I looked down at Terrence who was beginning to stir from his sleep, his long thick eyelashes starting to open. His arm tightened around my waist as he felt me trying to sit up. I kissed his strong jawline and stroked the smooth deep brown skin along his cheek, then made my way to his full, juicy lips, which were now curved int
o a smile.

“Wake up,” I said softly in his ear. “It’s almost time to c
heck out.”

He smiled sleepily, baring his perfect white teeth, and stretched his long t
oned body.

“Check out? You mean you’re kickin
g me out?”

“Yep, time to go back to New York. We have a case to solve, remember? Diablo Negro rin
g a bell?”

“All you can think about is Diablo Negro after all I did for you last night . . . I mean this morning?” he said teasingly as he glanced over at the clock on the n
ightstand.

“What you did for me?” I said, laughing as I punched his shoulder
playfully.

“Yes, hello, two orgasms? Does that ring a bell?” he said as he rolled over on
top of me.

“Hmm . . . ,” I said, placing my finger on my cheek. “I don’t think I remember that at all. Are
you sure?”

“Well, I guess I’m just going to have to refresh your memory.” Terrence kissed me deeply as I felt him swelling again under t
he sheets.

“Mmm . . . As tempting as that may be, we have to check out of here, and I’ve got a flight to catch back to New York. Don’t you have a flight to catch, too?” He was moving his hips in small circular motions as his lips grazed my neck, so I could tell he wasn’t listening to a word I said. And I knew as the heat began to spread in my own body that if he didn’t get off me soon, we’d never make ou
r flights.

The sudden ringing of the phone interrupted the moment. I pushed up against him to roll over and answer it. As I tried to focus on the person talking on the phone, Terrence began to massag
e my back.

I put the phone against
my chest.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, trying to sound serious, but with his lips snaking a trail along my shoulders, it was difficult to co
ncentrate.

“Go ahead, talk on the phone,” he said mischievously. He knew I couldn’t co
ncentrate.

I put the phone back up to my ear, intent on rushing off whoever
this was.

“Uh . . . hello,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound breathless.
“Stop it.”

“Stop what, Nia? It’s me, Eric. Are you OK?” Shit, why did it have to be Eric on the phone now? Terrence’s breath was hot in my ear as he nibbled along my lobe, quickening his pace and then slowing down, driving
me crazy.

“Uh . . . yeah, I’m fine,” I said, closing my eyes, delirious as I pushed back into Terrence’s thrusts. “Look, um, can I call you back? I’m in the middle of s
omething.”

“Yeah, she’s in the middle of something,” Terrence said in a husky whisper as his hand snaked around my body and squeezed my breast. I tried to shush him by putting my finger t
o my lips.

“I’m downstairs and wanted to come up to talk,”
Eric said.

“No!” I said, trying to squelch the moan I felt rising in the back of my throat. “Um, I’m going to have to call you back la
ter . . .”

“But I’m right downstairs,” Eric said insistently. “I just need to see you before you leave this a
fternoon.”

“Now’s not a good time, Eric,” I said, his name slipping out in frustration. At the sound of my ex’s name, Terrence reached around to take the phon
e from me.

“Yeah, now’s not a good time, Eric,” Terrence said tersely into the phone before placing it back down on the cradle. Before it could ring again, Terrence hit the “Do Not Disturb” button on the pho
ne’s base.

“Now, where were we?” he said as the waves of heat climbed between our thighs. I guessed we’d both be taking later fli
gh
ts home.

CHAPTER 26

Vanessa

T
he doctor was speaking, but I couldn’t hear anything he said. I looked out the hospital window at the gleaming Phoenix skyline and wondered how the sun could be shining so brightly on the worst day of
our lives.

Marcus, still dressed in his black tuxedo with the shirt open and the bow tie stuffed in his pocket, stood stone-faced by my bedside as the doctor continued to speak. His knuckles were bruised and his lip was cut. The emergency room doctors had stitched up a deep gash above his right eye, but otherwise he was
uninjured.

“Mr. and Mrs. King, while I know the thought of having more children right now probably seems premature, I want to let you know that you will be able to get pregnant again,” Dr. Barrett said in an efficient tone as he flipped through my medical chart and made a few notations with his pen. My mind had shut down last night after he told us about the miscarriage. The last clear thought I remember was the sound of someone screaming “No!” over and over again, and then there was sleep. The nurse must have given me something to knock me out. I rested fitfully and kept imagining myself falling back down on the floor over and over again with a menacing tangle of feet stomping around me as I curled into a ball, trying to protect my baby and screaming for Marcus t
o help me.

“Dr. Barrett, when can my wife go home?” Marcus asked, his deep voice tired and heavy. “We’re traveling by private plane, so there’s a bedroom where she can lie down. We could also take a nurse with her if n
ecessary.”

“Well, I don’t see any reason why she can’t leave tomorrow morning. Traveling privately certainly helps. I’d just like to keep her here for one more night of observation. And, of course, she should see her own doctor when she gets back home to New York.” The doctor placed the chart back in the stand at the end of the bed and then left
the room.

I felt Marcus’s hand reach for mine as he sat down in the metal chair next to the bed, but I pulled my
hand away.

“Vanessa, please,” Marcus choked out. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” He tried to reach for my hand again. I didn’t have the strength to pull away a se
cond time.

“Look at me, Vanessa, please,” he pleaded from the side of the bed. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to see his face. It was his fault we had lost
the baby.

Suddenly the door to my room swung open, and I felt Marcus tense up. Earlier some aggressive paparazzi had been spotted by hospital personnel on the floor, so I knew Marcus had stationed Tyson and Bruce outside the door. I thought it had to be the doctor or the nurses coming to poke and prod me again or deliver one of those awful meals that always went
untouched.

“Mommy! Daddy!” Damon’s little voice echoed around the room as he came bounding across the floor followed by Nicole. Before he could jump up on the hospital bed, Marcus caught him and, scooping up our son in his arms, planted a kiss on
his cheek.

“Hey, little man,” Marcus said hoarsely, trying to clear his throat and change his expression to not look so worried. “How
are you?”

“Good, Daddy.” Damon kissed his father on the cheek and then squirmed in his father’s arms, trying to get down onto the bed to get to me. I reached out for him. I needed to hold
my child.

“Be careful with your mom, D. She’s not feeling well.” Marcus carefully placed our son on the side of my bed. Damon wrapped his chubby brown arms around me and laid his head on my chest. I wrapped my arms around my son, inhaling his fresh scent of soap and lotion. I stroked his curls and hugged him tightly against my body as tears slipped out of my eyes before I could stop them. I was glad Damon couldn’t see my face. I turned away from the window and saw Nicole quietly slip out of
the room.

“What’s wrong with you, Mommy?” Damon asked as he sat up on the bed, his legs dangling over the side. He looked at me quizzically with the same large brown eyes as his father and reached out one of his small fingers to wipe my tears. “Don’t cry, Mommy. It’s OK. Where do you hurt? Do you want me to kiss it and make i
t better?”

I smiled and wished his sweet little kiss could make it all better. Marcus took a tissue out of his pocket, turned away from us, and walked over to the window. I was thankful we hadn’t yet told Damon that I was pregnant. We had been planning to tell him at a special family dinner when we retu
rned home.

“Mommy is fine, baby,” I said, rubbing the top of his head. “Don’t you worry. I had a little accident at a party, and the doctors want to check me out. We’re all going to go home together tomorrow. Don’t you worry about
anything.”

“Good, I’m ready to go home,” Damon said, hopping down of
f the bed.

“You are?” Marcus asked, turning away from the window and stuffing the tissue into his pocket. “Why are you so eager to
get home?”

“Because, Daddy, I want to see my friends at school,” Damon said as he flew around the room with his arms outstretched, pretending to be an
airplane.

“You’ll be home tomorrow, and you can go back to school the day after that,” I said, trying to prop myself up on the pillows. Marcus handed me the remote control to adjust the bed. I took it without looki
ng at him.

“OK, Mommy,” Damon said. Nicole came back in the room with a bottle of chocolate milk from the vending machine for Damon and asked if she should take him back to the hotel. Marcus picked up Damon and leaned him over the bed to kiss me
good-bye.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Damon,” I said as I kissed his cheek and squeezed his arms. Marcus walked them out of the room, and I heard him explain to Nicole that we would be leaving tomorrow and to get our thin
gs packed.

He returned to my bedside and sat down in the chair, once again reaching for my hand. I inhaled deeply and felt the tears coming down again. I couldn’t stop them as ragged aching sobs ripped through my body. I tried to pull my hand away from his, but he wouldn’t let me, holding my hand tightly and laying his head down on top of it. I could feel the moisture of his own tears on my hand. My other hand reached over to pound the top of his head as hoarse screams escape
d my lips.

“I hate you, Marcus! I hate you!” I punched his shoulders as we both cried over the loss of our child. The pain was deep and cavernous, and I wondered if we would
ever heal.

“Please, Vanessa,” he said, looking up at me with tears streaming down his face. His brown eyes beseeched me to hear him out. “List
en to me.”

I couldn’t look at his face. The face that had lied to me so many times. The face that had cheated on me. The face that had gotten us to this point. I closed my eyes and collapsed back against the pillows. I couldn’t believe that less than twenty-four hours ago we had been so happy, making a fresh start, excising both Kareem and Laila from
our lives.

“Vanessa, I know you’re devastated right now, and I am, too. We lost our child, Vanessa. That was my baby, too. And I’ll never forgive myself for putting you in that situation. I know if I’d never slept with Laila, none of this would have happened. But, Vanessa, I can’t lose you, too.
Not now.”

I shook my head against the pillow, my free hand lying across my stomach. Nothing he said mattered. Nothing he said could change what had happened. Nothing would bring back
our baby.

“You have no idea how I feel, Marcus,” I said, spitting out the words. “I’ve taken your bullshit for too long. You let this life twist you up, and it got you thinking the rules didn’t apply to you. You were above it all. You could do whatever you wanted and sleep with whomever you wanted. How do you think that made me feel? This life? You wanted this life, Marcus. Not me. All I ever wanted
was you!”

“Vanessa, I know I’ve put you through hell. I know you’ve given everything to our marriage and that I took it for granted, but we were back on the right path. You showed me that. You showed me the r
ight way.”

“Yes, Marcus.” A bitter edge he hadn’t heard before crept into my voice. “You’re right, I gave you everything. I fought for us when you were too selfish to fight for us. I fought for us when you were out fucking that whore and your best friend was stealing all yo
ur money!”

Marcus exhaled deeply as if my words were like physical blows punching him in the gut. I stared up at the hospital ceiling through my tears, praying to God that he would j
ust leave.

“Vanessa, I’m begging you, baby. Don’t do this to us. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave our family. I’m so broken, Vanessa. I
’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Now you’re sorry?” I said, my voice rising and shrill. I couldn’t stop myself from saying the thing that was really at the crux
of my pain. “I’ll tell you why your ass is sorry, Marcus! You’re sorry because
you didn’t protect me last night, Marcus. And you didn’t protect yo
ur child!”

Marcus’s large shoulders shook at the pain of my words, and he clenched his fists into ti
ght balls.

“You didn’t protect your child, Marcus! You were too busy fighting and protecting your ego while I was getting trampled on!” The memory of being trapped on the ground, clawing and trying to find a way out and then just wrapping myself in a tight ball, sent a chill down my spine. I shook my head to push away t
he memory.

“Is that what you think?” he said, looking at me, pain etched on his face so deep that it looked like his face would be frozen that way forever. “Is that what you think? That last night was about my ego? Last night I was trying to protect you. I had no idea it was going to turn into that brawl. You’re right. I should have gotten you out of there, but I was so focused on DJ . . .” He trailed off as
I cut in.

“Yes, you were focused on DJ because he was with your whore!” I spat o
ut at him.

“What?” he said, looking up at me incredulously. “You think I attacked DJ because of Laila? No, Vanessa. Listen to me. That had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with Laila. I meant what I said to you before: it was over between us. I punched DJ because of what he said about you and how he tried to disrespect us at our event. Vanessa, that was all about you, not Laila. I need you to k
now that.”

I closed my eyes against the wave of fresh tears. He took my clenched fist and pried my fingers open, lacing his fingers tightly thr
ough mine.

“Vanessa, I know you’re hurt. I am, too. I know you don’t believe me, but I’m telling you the truth, and I’ll live the rest of my days blaming myself for not protecting our child. Baby, I’m begging you. We lost our baby, but I can’t lose you and Da
mon, too.”

The raw pain in his voice sliced into me. I saw his own hurt and anger at himself radiating in his eyes as he pleaded with me and pulled me into his arms. We were carrying the s
ame wound.