Chapter 6 Lennox
LENNOX
As much as I wanted to let go, to sink into this place, and into Naima, I couldn’t.
Not completely. A week later, my father's voice still sat in the back of my mind, a reminder of why I was really here.
He called me yesterday, his tone clipped, every word a hook meant to reel me back into his world.
"I need numbers, Lennox. Not just vibes. Can they scale? What’s their overhead? Are they turning a profit or just breaking even?"
I’d promised him I was working on it, that I’d have something concrete soon. But the truth was, every time I tried to focus on the business side of things, I got distracted. By the smell of lavender and citrus in the air. By the quiet murmur of the creek behind the cabins. By Naima.
I’d never been the type to get caught up over a woman.
I liked things simple, clean—pleasure with no strings attached.
But there was nothing simple about the way I felt when I was around her.
Nothing clean about the way my thoughts tangled up with images of her—bare feet in the dirt, her hips swaying gently as she moved through yoga poses, her lips curving into that soft, knowing smile that made my dick thicken with desire.
And it wasn’t just physical. Sure, I’d noticed her body—the fullness of those soft, round tits, the curve of her ass, the strength in her shapely thighs.
But it was more than that. It was the way she made space for people.
The way her presence felt like sunlight filtering through the leaves—warm, patient, unyielding.
Still, all three women had their own kind of appeal. I wasn’t blind to Selena’s polished beauty or Tasha’s bold, untamed energy. Each of them had a look in their eyes, a spark that hinted at hunger—the kind that wasn’t easily sated. The kind that lingered.
If I were younger, more reckless, I might’ve been tempted to sample them all.
Hell, one night I did—in a dream so vivid it left my skin damp and my sheets twisted.
I could still feel it: Selena drawing me a bath, her fingers tracing the bubbles across my chest as her lips brushed my ear, whispering soft promises.
Tasha, bold and unfiltered, fed me grapes with a wicked smile, her mouth following the trail of juice down my chin before she sank to her knees, taking me deep and slowly into her mouth until my fists clenched the silk of the sheets.
But it was Naima who held the power, who straddled my hips with an ease that felt both natural and dangerous.
She moved over me, her pussy warm and slick, her rhythm unhurried as if she had all the time in the world to break me down.
Her hands pressed oil into my skin, every stroke leaving me more exposed, more vulnerable.
She rode me with a control that made my breath catch, her name a low rasp on my tongue.
I woke with a start, my dick hard with an ache nothing but a woman, the woman I really wanted, could take care of. So yeah, the truth was, while all three of them had something about them—beauty, confidence, allure—only one seemed just right. Naima.
She was the whisper in the dark, the pulse beneath my skin. And no matter how hard I tried to clear my head, she was the only one I could see when I closed my eyes.
Something about Naima pulled me in. She was the quiet at the center of the storm, and I wasn’t sure if that drew me to her or made me want to run the other way.
Today, I was scheduled to work with Tasha. She had asked for my help setting up the new fitness equipment, and it was the perfect opportunity to dig a little deeper. Find out how they ran things, what their plans were for growth.
When I found Tasha in the fitness studio, she was already hard at work, her dark braids pulled back into a ponytail, her toned arms flexing as she tightened a resistance band around a weight rack.
Her smile was bright, the kind that lit up a room and sent a ripple of energy through anyone nearby.
She was good at this—at making people feel seen, making them feel like they mattered.
I could see why guests gravitated toward her.
"Right on time," she said, flashing me a grin. "I was starting to think you’d gotten lost in the garden." I know she was teasing me about spending time with Naima a few times this week already.
"Nah, just trying to keep up. You three run a tight ship."
"Gotta," she said, moving to hold a metal bar steady while I tightened the bolts. "We’ve had our share of setbacks, but we’re still standing. Can’t say that for a lot of places like this."
"Setbacks?" I asked, keeping my tone casual. "Like what?"
She hesitated, her fingers flexing over the cool metal. "Investors pulling out. Permits being a pain in the ass. It’s a hustle. But we make it work."
"Sounds like you’ve been through a lot."
"We have." Her voice softened, and for a moment, the mask slipped. "But this place... it’s worth it. People come here broken, and they leave a little more whole. That’s not something I’m willing to give up on."
Her expression shifted then, a playful glint in her eye as she leaned a little closer. "But enough about business. What about you, Lennox? You got anyone waiting for you back home?"
"Nah. Too busy working."
She laughed, a throaty sound that might’ve turned my head if I wasn’t so fixed on someone else. "A man like you? Hard to believe."
I felt the tug—the memory of that dream that lingered on the edges of my mind, the way her lips had parted as she fed me grapes, the heat of her breath on my skin.
I pushed it away, reminding myself it was nothing more than a fantasy.
A passing thought that had no business here, not when my reality was so firmly rooted in Naima.
Tasha’s smile lingered, and I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.
She was beautiful—there was no denying that.
And maybe under different circumstances, I might’ve entertained the idea.
But not now. Not when every quiet moment was filled with Naima’s voice, with the way she moved, the softness in her eyes.
Naima was like water, cool and clear, while Tasha burned like fire. I knew which one I needed.
"Well, the equipment’s good to go," I said, stepping back and wiping my hands on a towel. "Anything else you need?"
She shook her head, her lips quirking into a small smile. "Not unless you’ve got a magic wand to make all our problems disappear."
"Sorry," I said, forcing a grin. "Left my wand at home."
We shared a laugh, the tension breaking, and for a moment, it felt easy again. Normal. But as I walked back to my cabin, the weight of what I had to do pressed against my chest. My father wanted answers. Numbers. Proof.
And all I had were feelings.
And a growing need to protect this place—and the woman at the center of it—from whatever storm was coming.