THREE
Kross holds my mind captive the entire drive home. No doubt it’s wrong to lust over how fine of a man he is, with his rich umber shade, kissable lips, seductive dark eyes, and groomed beard and hair. I’m not usually into tattoos, but the inked flowers on his neck and hands gave off a sexy allure.
Still cheesing, I unlock the door, enter the dark apartment, and flip the light on. As I turn, a loud shriek tears out of me. “Shit! What the hell, Jamir? You scared me! Why were you sitting in the dark?”
He crumples his thick brows, suspicion plastered on his face. “Where are you coming from after midnight?”
“You kidding me? I went out. What are you doing?”
“Surprising you,” he grits. “Where were you?”
I throw my hands up. “At a nightclub, damn. I don’t like that accusatory shit.”
As he straightens on his feet, I can’t avoid comparing him and Kross. The latter is slightly taller with an edge, while Jamir, with his honey-brown tone, is more slender and clean-cut. “I’m sorry, baby. I felt bad about tonight and came to surprise you. I didn’t expect you’d be out.”
“Well, I had a great day and wanted to celebrate.”
He scowls. “Celebrate what?”
A smile tugs at my lips as I tell him, “Chavonne agreed to launch my solo designs under my name.”
“Huh. Didn’t know you wanted to do that.” His blasé response upsets me. He’s my man, yet Kross showed more interest.
“Seriously?” I rest my hand on my hip and shift to one side. “I’ve mentioned it a bunch of times. You ever listen to me, Jamir?”
“My bad, baby. That’s great news.” He closes the distance and wraps his arms around me, kissing my temple. “I feel even worse about canceling dinner. I’ll make it up to you.”
“How?” I ask with a long exhale.
Gliding over my dress, he groans while rubbing his crotch in the jeans. “You look so good. I bet losers were hitting on you all night.”
He’d be livid if he learned I spent most of the night talking to Kross. “Tried and failed.”
A sudden breath rushes out as he tugs me against him. “Only wear this for me. Don’t wear it otherwise.”
I hiss and writhe away. “Policing how I dress now?”
“Baby, I’m kidding.” He crushes my mouth with a passionate kiss that settles me. As it slows to an end, he growls, “Let me take care of you.” Pulling me into my bedroom, he removes my clothes, lays me down, and massages me between my legs. “You’re already wet.”
“Mmm.” His tongue on my nipple makes me squirm. He pleases the sensitive buds, then licks a path down my stomach. “Shit!” I cry out as he buries his face in my middle, devouring me like a beast.
“I love my wet pussy,” he rumbles in between eating me. “You want me badly, huh?”
“Yes,” leaves my mouth in a strained whisper. I was in heat from being enraptured by Kross for hours. The truth burns my body with shame while my man pleasures me to an orgasm.
Movement drags me out of sleep to the sunny morning. I roll over, expecting another round with Jamir to start the day. Disappointment floods me when I see he’s putting on his clothes. “You’re leaving?”
He sighs. “Heading to the office.”
“No,” I groan. “Don’t you want to lie here and—”
“I already gave you some last night. That’s enough. Don’t have anything left in the tank.”
“Damn, Jamir. It’s Saturday. You said we’d spend the day together.”
“Quit whining,” he reproaches, seeming frustrated.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking child.”
Releasing a sharp breath, he finishes fastening his gold Rolex and sits on the bed, guilt in his auburn eyes as he strokes my cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted. I need you to be patient with me, please.”
“I understand,” I cave in a softer tone. “Want to see my finished designs before you go?”
“You know I’m not into that fashion stuff.” He takes five twenty-dollar bills from his wallet. “Breakfast is on me. We’ll have dinner tonight.” Kissing me, he places the money on the nightstand and grabs his phone. “See you later.”
“Okay.” I watch him leave my bedroom, hearing the apartment door shortly.
A sinking feeling lowers my head back on the pillow. It doesn’t feel right between us. Not anymore.
Pilates has Trishell and me walking slower after antagonizing our muscles so much. I’m sure we’ll feel it worse tomorrow.
Entering the café next door, we order sandwiches and green juices for breakfast.
“So how was last night, girl?” she questions when we sit at a table. “Did Jamir spoil you?”
I sip some juice before saying, “He canceled, so I went to a nightclub. Found him waiting in the apartment when I came home.”
“Huh?” Confusion masks her freckled, medium-brown face. “Like he was trying to catch you?”
“It did seem creepy, but he said he wanted to surprise me.”
“Hm.” She takes another bite. “He must have pissed you off for you to go out alone.”
“He did. Jamir keeps pushing me to the back burner. He says he’s trying to land a major client, and things are hectic, but it’s affecting our relationship.”
“Maybe it’ll improve once he secures whatever he’s working on.” She washes down the food. “So, which club? It’s good you didn’t call me to come out ‘cause Reeve had me parted like the Red Sea and—”
“Don’t need the details, ma’am,” I stop her before she ruins my appetite. “The spot’s Krossfire with a K. It’s great. Wednesday’s dancehall night, girl.”
“Ooh.” She wiggles on the chair. “I’ll tell bae.”
“I talked with the owner, Kross. He’s a nice guy.” Heat sneaks into my cheeks as I add, “Cute too.”
“Cute?” She plays with her ponytail while twisting her mouth. “You chilled with the owner all night?”
“It’s not like that. I told him I had a man. He was respectful, and our conversations were appropriate.”
“Mmkay.” She watches me while sipping her juice.
I roll my eyes and continue eating. As I finish, my phone buzzes on the table with a text from my mom.
MA : Stop by ASAP.
It’s important.
Me: On my way.
“My mom wants something.”
“When does she never?” Trishell jokes. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure. She says to come by.” I start to clear my mess, asking, “What are you up to after this?”
My question draws a dramatic groan. “Going to the office to ensure papers are ready for court on Monday.”
“Am I the only one who takes the weekend off?”
“I’m a busy paralegal,” she retorts, shrugging.
“All right. Let me see what my mom wants. I’ll cover breakfast with the cash from Jamir.”
“It’s never his card,” she quietly shades.
“Whatever,” I hiss. “You know I don’t want his money. He left this, so I’m using it.”
“I’m kidding, cuz. I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow.”
“See you.”
My eyes widen as Mom opens the door wearing a silk, champagne slip dress that’s so thin it exposes her nipples. “This is how you answer the door?”
“Child, please.” She flips her wavy wig and struts into the living area.
I enter, noticing boxes on the floor. “What’s this?”
“I’m moving into a Cherry Hill condo,” she announces excitedly.
My jaw drops. “Mom, I can’t afford a Cherry Hill condo on top of mine! They’re expensive. What the hell is wrong with this apartment?”
The excitement dissolves from her face. “First of all, watch that damn tone. Second, nobody asked you to pay for shit. I’m only letting you know since you helped with the rent here. I’m good.”
“You’re good? How will you pay the three thousand a month?” I fold my arms. “You with that drug dealer?”
She throws her hands up. “Christ, Davia. No. I received a promotion at the consulting firm. I can afford the condo just fine.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
“You should be,” she clips. “As of next week, you can stop chipping in on my rent. Thanks for helping out. I don’t need it anymore.”
“Fine. Congrats on your promotion.”
She huffs and looks away, hugging herself.
I pause before asking, “Coming to dinner tomorrow? Grandma and Grandpa are leaving for their cruise on Monday.”
“No,” she mumbles. “All the family does is talk shit about me. Have fun.”
I frown. “Geez, Mom. No one does that.”
“Yeah, right.” She twists her mouth and angles her head. Something I do when being sarcastic. Considering my grandparents raised me, it’s wild how we have anything in common besides the same cinnamon tone, height, and features. “If you don’t mind, I’m in the middle of packing. That’s all I wanted to tell you.”
“Need some help?” I offer, looking around.
“I got it, thanks.”
Ever yearning for more time with her, I ask, “You sure? If you need help moving your things—”
“Don’t worry about it, hon.” She walks past me to open the door. “I’ll call you.” The next time she needs money .
“Okay.” I step into the hallway. “Take care, Mom.”
“Bye, Davia.” She shuts the door in my face.
“Sheesh.” My phone vibrates in my clutch on the way to the stairs. I take it out and answer Jamir’s call. “Hey.”
“Don’t be mad.”
This man . “If you start with that, I probably will be.”
He sighs. “I’m golfing with my boss and other execs. We’re having drinks later, so I’ll be too tired.”
“Whatever, Jamir.” I’m not in the mood to argue over being shoved aside again. “Are you coming to dinner at my grandparents tomorrow?”
“I will. Promise.”
“Mmhm.” Hanging up, I exit the building and approach my car. Glimpsing my sad reflection in the window makes me wonder when I started feeling so weighed down by my relationship.
“Ms. Designer?” My pulse spikes at the deep and sexy voice. I pivot, my spirits lifting as Kross walks over with a smile. “Nice seeing you again.”
His presence stirs the feeling of early springtime—the promise of warmth and renewal. How strange that a man I just met can swiftly change my mood and brighten my day. It makes no damn sense at all. Not when my actual man doesn’t even do that.