Chapter 6 #5
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, lightly. “A lot of men don’t handle hearing no very well.”
His expression slightly shifted at that. “I ain’t a lot of men, sweetheart. You have a right to tell me no, and I’ma respect it. That simple.”
She believed him. That was the dangerous part of him she was scared of. Believing a man was just as rare as deeming one fine. Heavy glanced in the side mirror, watching a customer emerge, before looking back at her. “And for the record, lunch ain’t enough.”
Cyren laughed, softly. “I figured.”
“But I’m coo’ with moving at your speed. Long as you don’t start acting funny.”
Her brows lifted. “Acting funny?”
“Yeah. Pretending like you ain’t feeling a nigga.”
Her laugh came easier this time. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“I’m sure of what I see.”
And there he went again, making her feel things she didn’t ask for but had no way of controlling. Heavy continued, giving her a chance to collect herself. “It’s all good, though. I’m feeling you, too.”
Her deep, melanin-rich skin hid her blush but not the lift of her cheeks. Only a real man, confident in himself, would admit that so openly, Cyren thought to herself.
She shook her head, not bothering to acknowledge what he’d just said. “I should probably go back inside. My break is almost over.”
Heavy nodded, though neither of them moved right away. The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It felt reluctant like neither of them wanted to be the first person to end their little car date. Cyren finally turned toward him fully, giving him a soft smile.
“Thank you,” she said again. “For lunch and for checking on me.”
Heavy’s gaze held hers. “You ain’t gotta keep thanking me.”
“I know, but I want to. You deserve to be told you’re appreciated.”
Something unreadable flickered across his face before he reached over and brushed a crumb from the corner of her mouth with his thumb.
The simple gesture made her entire body still.
Cyren just blinked as he smirked and pushed his door open.
Dumbfounded, she touched where his thumb had just been, wishing it were his lips.
Heavy rounded the front of the truck, before she could sit in that thought too long, and opened her door. Cyren stared at him for a second. Still shocked, but genuinely impressed by his chivalry, she smiled. She was looking at him as if it were a rare thing. Unfortunately for her, it was.
“I see you ain’t touch that door,” he joked but was glad she listened.
“I told you I wouldn’t.”
Heavy smirked. “Good.”
Cyren placed her drink in his outstretched hand as she climbed out.
The moment her feet hit the pavement, she turned toward him with every intention to give a casual goodbye.
She should’ve known better. Heavy stepped into her space, pulling her into his chest. Cyren let out a soft gasp that quickly turned into a laugh as her free hand pressed against his chest to steady herself.
His arms wrapped around her waist, strong and secure, while his face nestled in the crook of her neck.
For a moment, she forgot they were standing in the parking lot of her job in broad daylight.
Her cheek rested against his chest as she inhaled his cologne for what felt like the hundredth time in twenty minutes.
Cyren giggled as he kissed her neck, squeezing her tighter.
“We’re in public, and you’re manhandling me like this,” she murmured.
Heavy quietly laughed above her, running his nose where his lips had been. “That was manhandling?”
“Yes,” Cyren let out breathlessly.
“Nah. This is me being nice.”
Cyren pulled back just enough to look at him and didn’t have enough time to register him softly smacking her ass and squeezing it. Not hard enough to disrespect her but just enough to make her choke on her own breath.
“Rashaun,” she sharply whispered, eyes widening.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “My fault.”
“You are not sorry.”
“You right.” He chuckled. “I ain’t. Just letting you know how it can get. But you know that.”
Cyren shook her head while trying not to smile but failing. “You were doing so good.”
“I’m still doing good. I didn’t stick my tongue down your throat like I wanted to.”
Her stomach flipped at the casual way he said it. Like they’d always been tongue-kissing one another. Like he wanted to. Like he was actively choosing not to. Somehow, that restraint felt sexier than if he had actually done it.
Heavy handed her drink back to her once she was steady again. “Go back in there before you be late.”
Cyren narrowed her eyes. “You are the distraction here.”
“And yet… you still smiling.”
She immediately tried to straighten her face, but it didn’t work.
Heavy laughed and gave her some space. “Have a good rest of your day.”
Cyren adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder and accepted that trying to play it cool was pointless now.
“You too. And thank you again.”
He shook his head. “A’ight, before you thank me one more time and make shit weird.”
Cyren burst into laughter. Heavy grinned at the sound like he’d been waiting to hear it every day since Friday.
Walking backward toward the building entrance, Cyren smiled. “Drive safe.”
“I will,” he let her know.
She finally turned toward the building, feeling his stare on her the entire walk back. Cyren told herself not to turn around and look, but that lasted all of three seconds. Homegirl couldn’t even make it to five.
Heavy was still standing by his truck, waiting until she was safely inside, with that same handsome smirk that continued to make her stomach tighten.
The smile that spread across her face felt entirely too earned for a man she was supposedly trying to slow down with.
Him pulling up on her was sweet and thoughtful in a way that she hadn’t been privy to experiencing in months from a man.
Hell, from anyone. If Heavy truly didn’t care, he was damn sure putting on an award-winning performance.