Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
On Talking Terms
A n hour passed, and Nadia went from fighting back tears to holding her belly as laughter seized her body, shook her hard, and wouldn’t let go.
“Len, stop!” She dabbed at her eyes with her knuckle, ridding herself of the waterworks of mirth. “Joseph wasn’t like that.”
“The hell he wasn’t. He was a player. I’m not hatin’ on him because in a way, back then, so was I. I wasn’t a big cheater, ya know, but I moved on fast. Real fast. I felt like spice was the variety of life.” Joseph was another guy they’d worked with back in the day at The Red Rooster.
“Someone said he has like four ex-wives.” She snickered as she reached for her glass of wine from the coffee table.
“Five ex-wives. He’s currently remarried again, last I heard, but that was a year ago. He was completely anti-marriage, but did it over and over. Said he wasn’t going for it again, but of course, that obviously was a lie. He also said that his last ex-wife gave him the only food that reduces sex drive.”
“And what food was that?”
“Wedding cake.”
She tossed a couch pillow at him. It bounced off the side of his head and they both erupted in laughter. He snatched the pillow from the floor, tucked it under his arm and stared at her. Across from him, she sat with her leg tucked beneath her and her second glass of wine half gone. Every time his gaze met hers, her heart flipped in reaction.
“My aunt used to say, ‘I spent a lotta time child proofin’ my house, but y’all bastards keep managing to get back in.”
He burst out laughing. “That was a pretty random thing to say.” He slipped his arm behind his head and leaned back against the couch, a lazy sexiness in his gaze.
“It was I guess… Oh, I know what made me think of my Aunt Dee Dee!” She snapped her fingers. “The bit about the weddin’ cake. She made weddin’ cakes for folks. She was good at it, too. They were so pretty. Just like her.” Images of her Aunt Dee Dee entered her mind. Oh, how she missed her. And her delicious cakes, too. “She was my mama’s sister. The youngest.” They drew quiet.
“Nadia.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands. She noted his set face and fixed eyes. “I want to tell you that, uh, I’ve been through some things, too. It ain’t been just you.”
“Of course you have. You’re human. I never thought that you hadn’t.” She debated on calling off work for the whole night as she got more and more comfortable sitting there with this beautiful man in her living room .
“You don’t know the real deal, though. I kept it from you. Didn’t want to talk about it back then. I want to talk to you about it now though, ’cause I need you to understand that one day, you’re going to my life partner. My wife. Because of that, I need to come clean. Be an open book. That’s not in my nature, but I’m steppin’ out on faith that what I’m feeling and thinking is right.” He spoke without a hint of immodesty. It sounded as if he were merely stating a fact, in the humblest way possible. His gaze swept over her.
“Your wife? Lennox, stop it. I see that whole wedding cake thing and talking about Jacob had messed with your mind. We haven’t even—”
“You’re scared.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are. You’re scared of commitment, not because you don’t want to be tied down, but because being tied down leads to vulnerability, and people get hurt when they’re close and exclusive.” He spoke like some therapist, and she was on his couch. He cocked his head to the side, then linked his fingers together. “That’s why dancing is so easy for you.”
“Dancing is easy for me because I’m good at it, and I get paid well for it.”
“That’s just what you tell yourself. You get to have the attention you want from men, with no strings attached. They can’t kiss you, hug you, or fuck you. When they see a woman like you, most men want to do all three. You’re beautiful, and out of many men’s leagues based on looks alone. Out of most men’s leagues if you include how damn smart you are. Naw, the average Joe can’t have you… They ju st have to sit there and watch. Horny. Dicks hard. Pockets empty. You win. You’re in control. Just how you like it.”
“You think you know everything. You don’t.” She covered the words with a big smile, perhaps wanting to soften the blow. She was met with an even bigger smile as he looked straight through her.
“Let me tell you something about me, then I’ll get back to the topic. You see these hands?” He held up his fingers, then made double fists. “My hands are deadly, baby. I can knock a motherfucker out cold with just one hit. I caught a case. My father and grandfather managed to get it buried. Money talks. I was young back then. My father got involved. My grandfather knew some people. Pulled some strings. I should’ve been doin’ a bid.”
“You beat someone up. So what?” She took another sip of her wine.
“…I killed a motherfucker.”
She crossed her legs and set her glass down, then crossed her arms, too. The room turned suddenly colder. “Why’d you do that?”
“Because I was paid to do it. It was a job. I had been approached and asked to do it, and I, at the time, was angry enough to accept the challenge. I had been itchin’ to hurt someone anyway, Nadia, so it was the right place and time. I had no self-control back then. I did some other shit, too… but that’s the incident that landed me in big trouble.”
“Was this durin’ the time I knew you? Like, before or after?”
“Right before. That’s one of the reasons I was workin’ there. To get out of the spotlight. Start over. I was an angry young man, Nadia. Mad at the world. I was mad that my mother was gone. Mad at God. I was mad at my father for other shit that would take too long to explain right now. I just wanted to fight the whole world.”
“Who asked you to do this?”
“Some rich kid needed help. He paid me a lot, and I did it. I only got caught because his dumb ass was bragging about it later. He got confronted by the police all that time later after I did the kill-for-hire job, and sang like a bird. Threw me all the way under the damn bus. At least that’s what the police told my father.”
“Damn… like, how did you feel about doing something like that?”
“I didn’t feel anything at all. As sick as it sounds, it was like a relief. I wanted to murder something. Make somethin’ bleed. The guy I killed I found out wasn’t a good person no way, but that still didn’t make it right for me to do it. The relief was short-lived, too. I needed some healing, and that wasn’t the way to go about it. It took me years to get right in my head, and in my heart. Normal therapy didn’t work, so, I started reading. I started workin’ on myself. I found a couple of people that could help me. That could relate. Someone to talk to, that had walked in my shoes. God gave me these hands, Nadia. I’m strong, but the Devil made me use ’em. That made me weak. I can use them to hurt people real fuckin’ bad, or I can use them to help. Like bodybuilding, and building things. Or giving a hug, maybe helping someone up when they fall. Or maybe, offer some healin’ by touchin’ a woman in just the right way.”
She looked at his big hands… his nails were cut evenly, hi s knuckles large, and the tops of his hands were covered with veins and old scars.
“These hands had the honor of touching one of the most precious jewels I’ve ever seen. You.” Her cheeks warmed. “I wasn’t even supposed to touch you that night while you danced on that stage, but you let me. I saw how you quickly waved the security guard away when he tried to approach as I put my hands around you while you were performing. You gave up control and handed it over to me… because you want to trust me. With all that I am, even confessing to you the terrible thing I did, you still trust me, ’cause after all these years, you know my heart.”
She hung her head. “I am scared. A lot has happened. I don’t trust men, and I barely trust myself when it comes to y’all.” It was hard to let the words come out. To let him hear them with all the disappointment and pain bubbling forth within her. She turned away from his scrutiny, feeling judged and loved all at once.
“It’s okay to admit that you’re scared, Nadia. Shit, I didn’t put much thought into settling down, either, until I decided to grow the hell up. What solidified it though was when I saw you again. I told you I literally asked God for help, then saw you less than twenty-four hours later. I don’t look a gift woman in the mouth… Ain’t nothin’ else I can do with you ’cept make you mine. The writing is on the wall, and the signs all point straight to heaven. Ain’t your middle name Heaven?” She nodded, surprised he remembered that. “Well then, ain’t nowhere else to go but up.”
“Lennox, you’ve made your intentions clear. I think it’s also clear that I’m interested now. I’m entertaining you after all, but I have some questions for you.”
“Ask me anything you want.”
“…This open book of yours. What’s in chapter one?” She hugged herself a bit tighter.
“Chapter one would be my parents. They’re the genesis. My father’s side of the family was considered basically White trash back in the 1940s. That all changed once my grandfather was about twenty-three years old, and got some land. He was smart, self-educated. A business tycoon. He worked under some important people. Learned a thing or two, and applied it to building his own company. That company grew into other ones. Those were legit businesses, until they weren’t anymore.” His eyes darkened and narrowed. “Grandpa Wilde built an empire and married beautiful women to hang on his arm like trophies. Had a bunch of children with most of them.
“My father is the product of one of those marriages, and he’s wealthy because of him. My father was selected to help run the business because he has a head for numbers, and knows how to keep his mouth shut. He’s loyal to a fault.”
“You’ve never been asked to join the business?”
A strange look came over the man’s face, followed by a twisted smirk and a dark chuckle.
“Oh, he’s asked, baby. He’s demanded, too. In fact, Old man Wilde, good ol’ Grandpa, has put me between a rock and a hard place. If he can’t have me, nobody can.”
“What? Is he threatening you? Your own grandfather?”
“Oh, yes, but that’s a long story. I promise to get into that later. For now, let’s stick to Chapter one.” She nodded in understanding. “Onto my mother. The woman who brought me into this world… Aaliyah Abdallah.”
“Hold on, that name sounds Muslim.”
“Yeah. My mother was Lebanese. She is Sunni.”
“Really? I never knew that.” She looked at him curiously now.
“I know. Most people didn’t know.”
“Now that I look at you, yeah, I can see that. Your skin is tan all year long.” He laughed at that, but she was serious. “You look like you could have some Indian or Middle Eastern in you. Yeah, I can definitely see that. I never thought much of it when we were younger. Just thought you were fine as hell. Why did you never tell me that your mother was Muslim? My uncle is, too.”
“It wasn’t somethin’ I was tryna hide—it just wasn’t relevant. Not only that, but I also kept details about my mother away from most people, friend or not. She was a very private person, and raised me and my sister to not discuss anything about her with outsiders, unless it was completely necessary.”
“Was she paranoid or just secretive?”
“Neither. She was trying to protect herself and her children. She’d been disowned by her family after she married my father, and she didn’t want any information about herself getting back to them if it was in a negative light. Honor and reputation were very important to her family, and even though she was the type of person to think for herself and do her own thing, she still wanted the approval of her family. She wanted them to be proud of her. She always wanted to prove them wrong about their reservations regarding her choices and actions, so she guarded information carefully. Her marrying my father really pissed them off, but she was determined to prove that her marriage was good.”
“Oh, wow. So was she disowned because your father is White? Wait, is Lebanese White, too? Excuse my ignorance, baby, I just—”
“No, it’s fine. It depends on who you ask, but America, to my mother, is one of the few countries that is hung up on complexions and race. My mother explained that it was never really talked about like that in Lebanon. For all intents and purposes, my mother’s ethnicity is Middle Eastern. Her race, by most people, would be considered White, but when asked, she always said Arab or Mediterranean. She never, ever considered herself White, and to my recollection, never claimed to be.”
“What did she look like, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Her skin was olive. She had jet black hair and was mistaken usually for bein’ Italian, sometimes Latina. Her eyes were a grayish green color. A little darker than mine. She didn’t look White, in my opinion, but because she was Muslim, and there’s a lotta anti-Muslim feelings ’round here, some folks don’t see her as American, either, even though she got her citizenship long before she got married to my father.” Nadia nodded in understanding. “Anyway, nah. My mother’s family didn’t get mad because my father was White. It was because he was Christian. They wanted her to marry a well-educated, financially secure Muslim man. Funny thing though, Nadia… She kept a lot from them when she moved from Lebanon to America on her ow n. Like the fact that she worked as an escort before I was born. I told you about that. “Yeah, and I know what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking?”
“How did I find out if my mother was so private?” He was right. She was thinking just that. “Well, let’s just say a family member made sure that I knew, and it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart.”
“Do you know why she did it? Or was no reason given?”
“She was havin’ money problems, and her family didn’t want her to move here in the first place, so she couldn’t ask them for help. She was about to be evicted from her apartment. Her family was very traditional, and to them, she should have kept her ass in Lebanon, marry a Muslim Lebanese man by the time she was eighteen or nineteen, and have a bunch of children. Instead, she wanted to study abroad and go to college. Be a doctor, like one of her brothers. A friend of hers told her she could make money by escorting so she could pay for school. She was desperate so she did it, and because of her beauty and exotic looks, the clients came fast. Pun intended.” He smiled sadly.
“That’s the same thing I did…I was trying to re-enroll in law school after I dropped out due to my bad grades and emotional issues, and I needed money to get back in. It just never worked out that way. Is that why you weren’t as judgmental as I thought you’d be when I told you that I danced and do OnlyFans?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I would have reacted any different, either way. As far as my mother is concerned, unlike you, she was ashamed about her past. It’s not something she wanted discussed. She’d done it for a short time, less than a year, but it still happened. If that kind of information got to the wrong people, and to her family, her life would have been in danger. She’d literally be killed.”
“Killed? But why?”
He sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment. “You don’t understand it because these are very different cultural customs, Nadia. This ain’t Texas. Like I said, she came from a strict, traditional family, and she was always looked at as a trouble maker because she insisted on doing her own thing, but up until that point, nothing she did was worthy of her being burned at the stake. Escorting though?” He sucked his teeth. “That’s a guaranteed scarlet letter. A woman’s virtue is everything to my Lebanese side of the family. Virginity. Purity until marriage, and definitely not sleeping with rich men for money and gifts, no matter the reason. Her family would be judged and there’d also be consequences, like them being shunned in their community.”
“But death?! I mean, yes, I’ve heard of this sort of thing, I’m not stupid, but it seems so extreme. I bet the same rules aren’t applied for men that sleep around.”
“I don’t know, you’re probably right, but what I do know is that if this information got out, it would cause such high humiliation, the family would be snubbed and possibly no longer allowed to even worship with their friends and neighbors. Because of that shame, what could have taken place was a mercy killing because of an Islamic belief called Zina.”
“What’s that about? Zina?”
“There are four categories, but they all have to do with lust, or physical intimacy—extramarital affairs, fornication, homosexuality, and another talks about premarital sex. It differentiates all of them. Lust is considered the catalyst for Zina, and unfortunately, the women carry the burden. Even if a woman is raped, in some of the old republics, she is blamed for it. Like, questions come up asking what she was doing out that time of night, or what was she wearing to entice the man, things like that. Men are believed to be unable to control themselves, so women are urged to take precautions to not tempt them to lust.”
Nadia shook her head in disgust.
“I hate that your mother went through that. I hate that all women shoulder that burden because quite honestly, this ain’t just some Lebanese thing. They do that same shit here in the USA! Supposed to be Christians, though.” She rolled her eyes. “As soon as someone comes out on the news claimin’ to be raped, women and men wanna ask, ‘Well, why she wait so long?’ or, ‘Look what she had on, she fast.’”
She was sure he could sense how personal this was to her—a story that didn’t bear repeating in her personal experience.
“You’re right. All of that is true, Nadia.” He ran his hand over his face and exhaled loudly. “If my mother’s family found out about her being an escort, according to how my mother explained it, they’d feel compelled to get rid of her. We’re talking complete termination of life. Like that would somehow right the wrong. So because of all of this, Nadia, we all made sure to never discuss it.”
“Okay, I get it now. Enough of that. I’ll get mad all over again. Tell me more about your parents.”
“After my parents got together, and my mother got married against their wishes to my father, they stopped talking to her because he was Christian, like I explained. But then they came around towards the end of her life.”
“What caused the switch?”
“Well, she had me and my sister. We were gettin’ older and they never met us. She was living nicely. Big, beautiful home. My mother always said she wanted for nothing. My mother apparently would send them pictures. Much to their pleasure, she was still Sunni. Still practicing her Muslim religion. She was a good mother, too… A damn good mother. A loving, beautiful person…” He hung his head, clasped his hands and swallowed.
“How’d she pass away?” He ran slightly trembling fingers over his gorgeous crown of dark hair. “Hold on, baby. Here I come.” She got up from the couch, crossed the room, and sat next to him. Placing her hand in his, she intertwined their fingers. His shoulders slumped as he cried softly. “Take your time.”
“Aneurysm. It was sudden. No one knew she had it. She didn’t suffer with high blood pressure that we were aware of.” He shrugged, blinked his tears away, then ran his thumb along her palm, deep in thought for a few moments. “To this day, we’re not a hundred percent sure of how this happened, but it did, and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. ”
“Can I see a picture of her? You got it on you?”
He nodded, grabbed his cellphone, and scrolled through his camera roll. She saw flashes of pictures of cars, exercise equipment, some screenshots of what appeared to be typical X-rated materials such as a close-up of some titties, and some silly memes.
After a minute or two, he handed her his phone. “Here’s a few of her. You can look through them.”
She gently took the phone from his grasp, then began sliding her finger along the screen. One after the other, she saw many pictures of a gorgeous woman with long dark hair, bright greenish gray eyes that she obviously passed down to her son, and a lovely smile. In some of the photos she was in what appeared to be their home garden—gloves on her hands and a sunhat. In other photos, she may have been on vacation. Airports. Monuments, shrines, and statues. In another photo, she was in her doctor attire, seemingly at work. One picture made her pause. Lennox’s mother was with who she presumed was his father, who was tall, thin, and handsome, smiling proudly as he stood beside her. There were also two children: Lennox at perhaps age eleven or twelve, and a little girl with big light brown eyes and thick dark hair, who she surmised was his little sister.
“Y’all look happy.”
“We were.” He reached over and abruptly took the phone from her. That was the end of an era.
They sat in silence, looking at the same stain on her rug. She regretted not turning on any music. All she could hear was his breathing, and her heartbeat that throbbed in her ears. Perhaps he could hear her heartbeat, too.
“I understand now,” she finally said, running her palm along her upper thigh. “You lost your best friend.”
He nodded, another sullen smile across his beautiful face. “She liked you.”
She turned to him curiously. “She liked me? I never met your mother.”
“I had a dream. This is going to sound ridiculous. Strange. Nevermind. I don’t want to scare you or freak you out.”
“No, go ahead. I’m listening.”
“In the dream, my mother was still alive when you and I were workin’ together. It was so realistic. Anyway, one day, my car was actin’ up, so she came up to the restaurant to drive me home. That happened in real life a few times, you know, my car acting up, so it made sense in the dream, too. Well, in the dream, you were still inside The Red Rooster. She sat there in the parking lot and watched us interacting as I clocked out apparently. That was kind of, what’s the word?”
“Symbolic?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Symbolic, because it’s like a mom looking over her kid. Anyway, I got in the car, and she said, ‘ You like that Black girl .’ Then, she’d start driving. That’s exactly somethin’ my mother would say. So, in the dream, I remember I said yeah, you were my friend. She said, ‘No, you like her more than just a friend.’” I didn’t deny it in the dream, and if she were to stand in front of me at that time, I would not have denied it to her, either. She told me you seemed like a real nice young lady, and she felt like we’d be good together. She said, as she was driving, that she’d heard us talking on the phone when I was home sometimes, too.”
“That’s symbolic, too. Like she can hear you without seeing you.”
“…Yeah. You’re right. Is this bothering you? Making you uncomfortable? I’ll stop talking about it if it is. I know some people don’t believe in stuff like this, and that’s fine.” His watery, sad, beautiful eyes captured her soul as he looked deeply at her.
“Nope. Not even a little bit. I like hearing it.”
“Okay…Like I said, it was just so damn realistic. My mom and I would talk like that when she was still alive. I could tell her anything. It was like… like she was sending me a message in that dream. This dream was old though, not recent. I had it before you even moved back into town, but I never forgot it.”
The shock of this discovery hit her full force. Her spirit fluttered and heated within her core at his words. Lennox was many things, but a liar wasn’t one of them…
“It’s like she was tellin’ me you were the one.” He sniffed, dabbed at his eyes. “I forgot about the dream until recently. My mother didn’t like most of my ex-girlfriends, but I think even in heaven, she knew I loved you before I even did.” He pursed his lips, as if quelling emotion. “I miss my mama.” Another tear fell from his eye as his voice cracked. “She was too good for this world. God took her away. Think about her every day…Mothers know our hearts, Nadia. They always know.”
“They always know,” she repeated, squeezing his hand. His jaw tightened as he slowly turned towards her .
They drifted closer and closer to one another until their mouths met. His supple lips made her melt. Her pulse skittered as the soft wetness of his tongue joined hers. An enchanting shudder of want and need ran through her. His kiss was so slow… so warm… so sultry and sexy… She savored his flavor: traces of mint and sweet tea.
His skin smelled like ‘Fucking Fabulous,’ by Tom Ford, and a dash of vanilla. Her back slightly arched as he ran his big hands along it, up to her shoulders. He pulled her closer. Thick fingers parted her hair, gently massaged her scalp as he deepened their kiss. He was devastatingly erotic, dripping with swag. His kiss was insistent, yet somehow patient.
Filled with a flood of desire, she broke their kiss, then reached for the hem of her t-shirt. Pulling it over her head, she exposed her sheer red bra. Lust in his eyes, he traced her face with a tender hand. His fingers drifted to her breasts to circle her nipple and make it harden to his touch. She briefly closed her eyes and waited in anticipation. She shuddered when he leaned in and sucked her breast over the fabric, his oral embrace soon becoming hard and fast. She placed her hand along his groin, her curiosity tearing her apart. She started at his balls and worked her way up. Shit, yes… he’s got a big one…Damn. It’s huge. His dick was hard as a rock. Long and thick.
The sounds of his working tongue along her nipple reminded her of a rabid animal. The heat and wetness of his mouth made her pussy pulse, and she hoped and prayed he’d remove her bra soon, and suck her breasts with no barriers between them. But then, as quickly as he began working her into a frenzy, he stopped cold.
“What’s wrong?”
He slowly lifted his head from her breasts and caressed her neck with a gentle hand, concern in his eyes as if he’d seen something in her that she’d been trying to hide, or keep at bay. She felt suddenly sick inside. Unwanted. Shunned. His eyes glowed with some energy she couldn’t understand, decipher, or read. It chilled her. Unnerved her to the bone.
“What’d I do wrong? You don’t want to have sex with me?”
He kissed her cheek, then ran his thumb slowly along her lower lip.
“You did absolutely nothin’ wrong. I definitely wanna have sex with you, baby. There’s nothin’ more that I’d rather do right now other than pick you up, throw your ass on your bed, and fuck your womb clear out the fucking frame.”
“But?”
“But you’re used to men not caring about your needs, and thinkin’ only about their own. You’re used to men not havin’ any self-control when it comes to you, so much so that they attack you in the rain, and cause you to have mental storms. PTSD. You’re used to being used for your body, and nobody givin’ a fuck about what’s in here.” He pointed to her head, then to her heart. “Well, I’m not like everybody else, Nadia, and I’m not what you’re used to.”
“But I—”
“I want you bad, Nadia. My body is on fire for you. I have had my share of wet dreams about you. My heart and my mind wants you, too. It took all of me to stop just now. But no matter how much I want to know what you taste like, and be buried deep inside of you, right here, right now, all night long, I know damn well that the timing isn’t right. When we make love, baby girl, it’s going to be something like you’ve never experienced. You’re not ready for this dick.”
“Boy, please!”
“I’m not playing, Nadia.” He gripped her chin, made her face him head on. “I’m serious. I’m not the type of man a woman just wants to fuck once, and leave alone. Because of our chemistry, our pasts, our friendship, and everything we have with one another, we’re going to be addicted to each other once we start a sexual relationship. We won’t be able to stop. Our connection is so strong, and that’s the last component to bring this all together. We can’t rush it. I need to know in my heart that the timing is right. Not for my protection, but for yours. I refuse to lose you, all because I couldn’t control myself. When we do get together, the universe is going to explode.”
She rolled her eyes, “But I am ready.”
“You’re close, but not quite there yet. This is a spiritual connection. You and I are serious– I know myself so well now because I’ve done the work to get to this point. It took a long time, but I got there. I know who I am as a man. I know what I stand for. I know what I’m going to put up with, and what the hell I’m not going to put up with. I love you! I loved you from the moment you cried on my shoulder by a big ass bag of flour in a little diner that most people barely knew the name of. And here’s the thing: I’m going to be the next man, and the last man to ever be inside those sugar walls. So I’m not worried, and you shouldn’t be, either. I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to. That’s a promise.” He caressed her chin, nothing but love in his eyes. “I’ve got over a decade of love and lust built up inside of me over you. This has to be handled carefully. I’ll know when you’re ready, honey, and when you are, when that day comes, you best believe I won’t hesitate. But today isn’t that day.”
He got up, slipped his phone in his pocket, and made his way to her door. She watched him, burning with anger and budding love. But she was rendered speechless. She wanted to curse him out, but she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He opened the front door and helped himself out, then closed it behind him, without a goodbye. She got up and watched him from her window. He walked towards his truck then disappeared out of sight.
How could she describe what she was feeling right then? Her emotions flipped and changed from one second to the next. She went back to the couch, still smelling him in the air, and smiled. A tear streaked her cheek, and then another. He had the self-control of a priest, and the sex drive of a beast. She’d been in the company of an alpha. Supreme big dick energy. She’d kissed a top dog. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. His bark was as big as his bite.
Lennox was the definition of a REAL man…