After You (Because of You 2)

“It’s probably dead. I never took it out of your purse.”

Grasping my head in my hands, I try to recall last night. I left cocktail hour with Derek, he said he wanted to go for a ride. “I never made it back to the wedding, did I? I missed my father’s wedding reception.”

“You were trashed, Nikki. You were in no condition to be there. I’m sorry, but you weren’t.”

“Because of you,” I tell him, glaring.

“I realize that, and I’m sorry. I didn’t think… I didn’t think it would go down like that. I didn’t think just seeing me would upset you so much, not after all this time.”

“So, you thought it would be a good idea to kidnap me, drag me back to this miserable little town, pay your daughter to go along with this charade, and pretend we were one big happy family?”

Shrugging, he says, “I played the cards I was dealt.”

“I want to punch you in the face,” I inform him. Turning around, I head toward the bedroom to retrieve my phone. Now that I know this isn’t a dream and I’m not losing my mind, I am freaking out. Not only did I just kiss Derek and tell him I wanted him inside me, but I missed my father’s wedding reception and abandoned my boyfriend there all by himself—all so my ex could kidnap me and trick me into thinking I had a family with him.

This is absolutely crazy. Only Derek can usher this level of craziness into my life.

Back inside his bedroom, I pause for a moment to look around. This is Derek’s room. Where he sleeps every night. There is no sign of Kayla—there wouldn’t be, otherwise even he wouldn’t be crazy enough to do what he did last night. Even if they aren’t together though, there should be some sign of her in this house. Family photos, perhaps? There are no family photos on the wall in this room, nothing on the wall at all. It’s a bachelor’s bedroom, lacking warmth, existing only to sleep in. I recognize it, because I have one just like it. I didn’t check the walls in the living room or the hallway because I wasn’t thinking of it, but they clearly aren’t together anymore.

I can’t help rolling my eyes unkindly. “What a shocker,” I mutter.

Dumbass. Throwing me away for that. Ugh. Where is my dress? Where is my purse? I need to get the hell out of here.

Chapter Eight

The bedroom door closes behind me with a click, and I can feel Derek behind me.

Without turning around, I demand, “Where did you put my things?”

Instead of answering, he moves closer, has the nerve to touch my waist, and says, “Nikki, look at me.”

“Stop calling me that,” I snap, turning to glare at him over my shoulder.

“I’ll never stop calling you that,” he informs me. “That’s your name. Nicole is bitter, hurt, and scared. Nikki is brave, fierce, and loving—even if she doesn’t want to admit it. Nicole’s gonna miss out on her whole life. Nikki’s smarter than that. I’m only gonna talk to Nikki.”

Something like fear rolls over me that after six years apart, he can still read me like that. I’m in love with my well-built walls, and here he comes, walking right through them like they’re nothing. Backing away, I try to reinforce them. “Stop it. You do not know me anymore.”

“Tell me I’m wrong then,” he says calmly, taking just as many steps toward me as I took away from him. “Because I’ve gotta tell you, I think your performance at cocktail hour caught me right up. I’m sorry I hurt you that much, Nikki, I am. But I’m not going to stand back and watch you miss out on everything because I fucked you up. That’s not gonna happen.”

That’s a senseless thing

to argue with, but I do anyway. I just want to rage against him. It doesn’t have to make sense. “You can’t stop me. You don’t control me, Derek.”

He laughs lightly, but it’s more knowing than amused. “Oh, yes I do, Nikki. I’ve been controlling you without even being in your life for the last six years, and I didn’t even know I was doing it. That ends now. If I’m gonna control you, it should be fun for both of us, don’t you think?”

Awareness shudders through me when I recognize the look in his eye. Predatory in the sexiest way. My legs are right up against his mattress, so I can’t back up any further. “Don’t you dare,” I warn him.

Responding directly to my telling him not to, Derek pushes me back onto his bed. My stomach rocks as he climbs on top of me, straddling my hips. My yelling at him has done nothing to ease the hardness between his legs, and he pushes himself against me, letting me feel it. An answering jolt of arousal hits me, but I do my best to ignore it.

“Get off me,” I mutter.

He does just the opposite, grabbing my hands, twining our fingers together and pushing them over my head as he leans closer. “Nope, not gonna do that,” he tells me, brushing his lips across my jaw.

“You’re the devil and I hate you,” I inform him, even as gooseflesh rises up all over my body.

“That’s all right,” he says casually, letting go of one of my hands and trailing it down between our bodies, stopping at the juncture of my thighs. My lack of panties is now part blessing, part curse, as Derek cups me in his hand and steals the breath from my lungs. “You’ve hated me before.”

“I am not going to—”