Session 33

Chapter twelve

The knock at my door was unexpected—unexpected because I wasn’t used to people knocking at my door. I’d been toying with the idea of calling Naomi to see if she wanted to make good on her Jacksonville plan. It was a three-day weekend, and she’d been talking about getting a room, going out, eating good food, and just vibing in the city. I put my phone down and opened the door without thinking.

Cassius was darkening my doorway, wearing a polo and khaki shorts, white sneakers on his feet, and a cocky grin plastered across his too-handsome face.

“Cassius,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here?”

He leaned casually against the doorframe, his eyes dancing with trouble. “Thought I’d come see my friend. Is that a problem?”

“Without calling?” I arched an eyebrow, trying to keep my cool. “What if I had company?”

His whole being shifted. His grin vanished instantly, his jaw tightening as his eyes darkened. “You got someone else in there?” he asked like he was ready to whoop my ass and my imaginary company.

I pressed my lips together, but the laugh broke free anyway. I reached up, brushing my fingers along the hard edge of his jaw, trying to ease the tension that had settled there. “Not you, acting like a jealous boyfriend.”

Cassius locked on me, his eyes full of an intensity I’d only seen once or twice before. Then he leaned in just a little, his voice dropping low, all smooth and dangerous. “You love playing with my feelings, huh? Keep it up, Angel. One day, I’m not gon’ let you.”

My chest tightened. The way he said it wasn’t loud, but it hit harder than if he’d been yelling.

“Stop it, and come in,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. He was being too dramatic, but his words struck a bit of fear in my heart. What if he did leave me alone? Did I want that?

I stepped aside and waved him in, trying to shake off the weight of his words. Cassius walked past me, glancing around and taking everything in. This was the first time he’d been inside my home.

“This is nice,” he said casually, like we hadn’t just been toe-to-toe at the door a second ago.

He could turn his feelings off faster and better than me, I guess. I closed the door behind him, my heart racing, and leaned against it for a moment, watching him as he explored my space—touching things, smelling candles, flipping through a few books on the shelf.

I didn’t know what I wanted from this man. But I knew he was too much for me, too fine, too good at getting under my skin. And the way he’d looked at me had me wanting to risk everything, just for some stolen moments with him.

Shaking it off, I headed for the kitchen. I needed a minute. Or five. I grabbed a bottle of Hennessy Paradis from the fridge.

When I came back, he was sitting on my couch, his long legs stretched out. His shoulders were relaxed, his head tilted back slightly, and his eyes half-lidded. Relaxing in my space like he owned it—not just the couch, but everything around it.

I swallowed hard.

He eyed me as I set a glass and the bottle on the coffee table and sat down across from him. I hoped the distance between us would keep me steady, but the way he looked up at me, one corner of his mouth lifting into a lazy grin, told me he knew exactly what kind of effect he had.

He pulled a bag from his pocket and set it on the coffee table next to the liquor.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I don’t even know if I want to share with you anymore,” he teased. “You so mean to me all the time, Sweetness.”

I rolled my eyes. “So I’m mean and sweet at the same time?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you’re a fucking Sour Patch Kid. But I like that shit.”

I shook my head, trying to fight the smile tugging at my lips. “What’s in the bag, Cassius?” I pressed, nodding toward it.

He chuckled. “These?” He pointed. “These are edibles. You ever tried one?”

I shook my head. “No. I smoked weed once, but nothing happened.”

He locked eyes with me, his voice dropping just enough to make the air shift. “Do you trust me?”

I hesitated. My stomach flipped. “Yeah, I do.”

I shouldn’t have.

About thirty minutes later, I felt like my mind had left the building, and my body was running on pure chaos. The whole room felt alive, like it had been plugged into some electric current, and I couldn’t stop moving. We danced around the living room, rapping along to Lil Wayne at the top of our lungs.

“A millionaire, I’m a Young Money millionaire,” I belted, spinning in circles.

“Tougher than Nigerian hair,” Cassius shouted, his energy barely keeping up with mine.

I was a hurricane—laughing, running, twirling, unstoppable. Cassius watched, shaking his head, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. Then, a sharp knock at the door made me come to a screeching halt. My heart dropped into my stomach. The cops. It had to be the cops.

Cassius, unbothered and high as a kite, strolled over to answer the door. I stumbled after him, trying to pull it together. He opened the door, and there stood Mrs. Thompson, my old, nosy, disapproving neighbor, her face pinched tight with judgment.

“You’re being too loud,” she snapped, her glare landing on Cassius like a laser.

Cassius smirked, leaning against the doorframe like he couldn’t be bothered. “Relax, old lady. And why the fuck you knocking like the police?”

I gasped. “Cassius!” I stepped in front of him, all apologies. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Thompson. Just… wait right here.” I bolted to the kitchen, nearly tripping over myself, and grabbed the lasagna I’d made earlier. “Here,” I said, thrusting the warm pan at her when I returned to the door. “I know it’s your favorite. Take the whole thing.”

The smell of cheese and herbs softened her expression. She gave Cassius one last glare before nodding at me. “Thank you, dear. Just keep it down.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, we both burst into laughter. Cassius turned down the volume, letting Ari Lennox’s voice pour into the room like honey.

“Touch me, take me, kiss me Love me, impress me…”

The vibe shifted, thick and heavy, like the air between us had its own pulse. Cassius stepped in close, his fingers brushing against mine before he took my hand, slowly, like he was letting me decide if I’d pull away. I didn’t. Instead, I let him guide me, his hands sliding down to grip my waist, pulling me flush against him. His hard dick pressed into my stomach. The music wrapped around us, closing in the space until it felt like there was no one else in the world.His breath brushed against my cheek, and his dark, steady gaze locked onto mine.

I just knew he was about to kiss me. My heart thundered in my chest. I wanted him to. But I pulled back, the moment too much for me while I was high. “I’m tired,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Come lay with me.” I reached for him.

He followed, fingers locked with mine, his grip firm, like he was scared I’d let go. In the dim light, we undressed. His shirt hit the floor, then mine, then everything else until we were down to our underwear. Both of us breathing heavy. Both of us turned on but not acting on it. I think we were both too scared to, sharing the same mindset. We were damn near perfect in the place we were. Why would we risk ruining it by crossing a line we couldn’t uncross? We slid beneath the sheets, his chest pressing against my back, his arm curling around my waist, pretending like the tension wasn’t about to unravel us both. But somehow, I still managed to fall asleep feeling content, just being held.

When I woke up the next morning, he was gone.

Days passed, and I didn’t hear from him. I replayed the night in my mind, turning over every detail, wondering what I’d done wrong. I missed him.