6. Nasseem #2
I wrapped both arms around her and pulled her closer.
We didn’t talk; we didn’t move. We just laid there, our skin slick with sweat, our hearts slowing, our bodies finding peace in the only place they ever did—each other.
And somehow, we both fell asleep like that. Like maybe this time… we meant to stay.
The next morning, I woke up to the sun peeking through the blinds. Sheets kicked halfway off the bed. But for once, she was still here. Her body was warm beside me, soft and real. I didn’t move, just watched her sleep for a few seconds, memorizing the peace on her face.
Then I got up, grabbed some sweats, and headed to the bathroom. I took a long, hot shower. Thought about how she felt in my arms and thought about how she cried into my chest. How I was finally ready to stop running from what this was.
I made my way into the kitchen, pulled out eggs, bacon, and thick, sliced bread for French toast. I poured orange juice.
Let the smell fill the air. And right on cue…
her soft footsteps echoed through my hallway.
I turned just as she appeared in the doorway, wearing one of my t-shirts, nothing underneath, hair wild and skin glowing.
She didn’t say a word. Neither did I. I just slid her a plate of food and then sat down next to her.
The way she moved toward me, felt like this was ours, and that said more than either of us ever could.
She sat next me at the kitchen island, one leg folded underneath her, the other swinging lightly in the air as she ate.
My t-shirt swallowed her, hanging off one shoulder.
Her curls framed her face wild, soft, and slept-on in the sexiest way possible.
I swear I’d never seen anything better at my kitchen counter.
There wasn’t no music playing, no TV in the background. Just the quiet clink of forks against plates and the low hum of the city outside my windows. But for the first time in a minute, shit felt calm and whole.
She didn’t rush through her food like she was trying to dip.
She was just… here, comfortable. I had been tryna get her to come to my place for weeks.
She always had an excuse. “Too busy,” “Can’t be mixin’ business and pleasure,” “That’s not what this is.
” But now, she was sitting here, looking around the space like she was tryna take it in without makin’ it obvious.
“I see you peepin’ the spot,” I said between bites, smirking.
She rolled her eyes and sipped her orange juice. “I’m not peepin’ anything. Just…never been here before.”
“You can look around if you want,” I offered, leanin’ back in my stool. “Bedroom’s way cleaner than my reputation.”
She laughed low, shaking her head. “I’m good.”
I nodded, letting it ride. I ain’t wanna press her. She was still here, and that was already more than I expected. “You got plans today?”
She shrugged, pushing her plate a little to the side. “Supposed to hit the studio. Finish a couple of vocals, but…I’m not really in the mood.” That surprised me. Egypt didn’t play when it came to her music.
“You good?” I asked.
She nodded slow. “Just… feel like chillin’ today.”
I leaned forward. “You could stay here. Ain’t no rush.”
Her brows raised. “You sure?”
“I want you to,” I said, no hesitation. “Stay as long as you want.”
She stared at me for a second, like she was trying to figure out what angle I was working. But there wasn’t one. I just liked her here. Her energy filled the space in a way that felt right.
After a second, she said, “Why’d you invite me back to Pleasure the other night?”
That question hit different. I didn’t know how to respond, so I just said; “I mean… we always link there,”
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, but that night felt different. Like… you needed me. And I don’t know why.”
I looked away. She wasn’t wrong. At first, I didn’t say nothing. I just chewed slowly, thinking about how much to let out. Then finally, I put my fork down. “My brother has been on some bullshit.”
Her expression softened instantly. “Nate?”
“Yeah.” She didn’t press. Didn’t ask a hundred questions.
She just nodded and gave me her full attention like she was letting me decide how much I wanted to say.
“He’s been back around,” I said. “Pushin’ shit.
Tryin’ to get me to do some wild ass favor for him.
Shit I can’t do. And I told him no, but I can’t shake the feelin’ that it ain’t over.
That he gon’ keep pushin’ til something breaks.
” I sighed, resting my elbows on the counter. “It’s just… a lot.”
She didn’t offer advice. Didn’t try to solve it. She just slid her hand across the counter and touched mine. “If you need me,” she said, her voice low and solid, “All you gotta do is ask. I’ll be there.”
I turned my head and looked at her. Really looked at her. That stubborn mouth. Those deep, dark eyes that saw way more than I ever wanted to show. She wasn’t just saying that. She meant it. And that did something to me I wasn’t ready for.
I cupped her chin pulling her face closer to mine and kissed her. It was soft—grateful. One of them kisses that says more than a whole damn conversation could. When I pulled back, she blinked slow, lips slightly parted.
“You look good in my clothes,” I muttered, my voice deeper now, tinged with something darker.
A playful smile tugged at her lips. “I know. I make everything look good.”
“But you look even better without any on.”
Before she could react, I was outta my stool, moving fast. I gripped her waist and yanked her forward, lifting her onto the cool countertop until her thighs opened for me like muscle memory. She gasped, hands flying to my shoulders for balance.
“Nasseem, what are you?—?”
“I’m still hungry,” I said, already hitching the shirt up her waist, my palms dragging slow over warm skin.
Her breath caught as my face went between her thighs and my tongue extended swiping gently between her folds.