CHAPTER 17
I always stress over tests . I know this stuff. I know it! However, as soon as I sit down to take the test, I freak out and just sit there staring at the computer. I’ve never been great at test-taking. I’m more of a hands-on kind of person. And I kinda hate studying.
I rub my eyes and sigh before looking at my notebook again. Coming to Grindstone Café to study after work was supposed to help me stay awake and focused, but I’m getting more frustrated by the second. It doesn’t help that there’s a guy sitting at the table in front of mine staring over here like I’m supposed to be flattered by his attention.
I’m not.
I’m so tired of men bothering me when I’m just trying to mind my business. The number of times I have to turn down number requests, or answer you got a man , or can I get your Insta questions is appalling. Then there are others who stare, like this one.
“Ugh,” I grunt to myself. “Just don’t look up, Zimyra.”
I glance at my notes and read in a quiet tone, “Chinoiserie is a style of design that mimics East Asian art.”
I repeat this several times and then move on to the next word.
“Dimmable is when a lightbulb’s brightness is adjustable.”
That one is pretty much common sense. I read over it anyway before going to the more difficult vocabulary.
I take a sip of coffee, strategically ignoring this guy staring at me. I glance over at the order counter just so he can know I’m not interested in him. I end up doing a double take. Axel is standing at the counter placing an order.
What the heck?
I shake my head, battling the smile that tried to make an appearance on my face. Is this a coincidence? I made sure Axel stayed busy today so I didn’t have to do too much talking while staring into his entrancing eyes. I even left before he and Mauricio could give me the maintenance report for the day. I just figured they’d give it to me in the morning.
I take another sip of coffee and look up, catching Axel’s gaze. I’m not going to lie – it’s a lot better than this man who’s been ogling me for the last half hour. Still, I hope Axel takes his food and goes on his way. I don’t have time to answer his questions today.
After he pays, he heads in my direction and once he reaches my table, he sits down, directly across from me like I invited him. Summoned him, even. I know I have pretty eyes, but I don’t think they’re that powerful.
“Hi,” he says.
“What are you doing here, Axel?”
“I said, hi ,” he repeats, then flashes an amazing white smile that makes my heart skip a beat.
“Hi. What are you doing here, Axel?”
“Mauricio told me this was a nice little café, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”
I say, “Well, I’m busy studying, so I don’t have time to talk.”
“You expect me to sit here and not say a word to you?”
I look up from my notes. “Yes, or you can sit at another table.”
“Or I could help you study.”
I glare at him while considering his offer. It wouldn’t be so bad to have a study partner. It would help me stay awake at least.
I hand him my notebook and say, “Okay. Read the definitions of these words and I have to tell you what the word is.”
“Easy enough,” he says, taking a bite of his sandwich. “You have beautiful handwriting, by the way,” he says, his words barely audible since he has a mouth full of food.
“Thanks, now focus. This is very important.”
“Okay. I got you. Uh…what do you call a series of windows above eye level?”
“Um…you had to start with a hard one.”
He eats while I rack my brain, searching for the answer.
I ask, “Is it clerestory?”
“It is. I ain’t never seen this word before…looks like somebody was trying to write the word cholesterol and got all turned around.”
I chuckle and say, “It sort of sounds like cholesterol, too.”
After eating another bite, he asks, “What is the style of simplistic modernism called?”
“Oh, I know this one!” I say. “It’s bouclé.”
“Nope. Try again.”
“Don’t play with me, Axel.”
“I’m not. That’s not the definition you have down here for that.”
“Okay, then read the definition for bouclé.”
“It says…uh…here it is. It’s a heavy textile with looped yarn—”
“Oh, crap! That’s right. Okay, then it’s Bauhaus.”
“Correct.” He takes a bite of his sandwich – a massive one this time. I know I shouldn’t, but I watch him chew. The way his mouth moves is so effortless. And then he licks his lips…
Good grief.
“This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.”
“What is? The test?”
“Yes.”
And avoiding you.
“That’s the purpose of studying, correct?”
“But I’ve been studying. I’m going to fail this test and derail my hopes and dreams.”
“You’re not going to fail, Zimyra.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I know. I’ve seen what you do at the job. This is nothing. Stop doubting yourself.”
I smile and take a deep breath after he gives me a confidence boost. “Okay, read another one, please.”
He wipes his mouth with a napkin and asks, “What do you call a light fixture that’s fastened to the wall for support?”
He takes another bite and throws fries in his mouth.
How is it that I just ate and I’m hungry again all of a sudden? Oh, I know. It’s not food that I want. It’s—
“Zimyra?”
“Huh?” I say after coming out of a trance with his mouth.
A smile grows on his face. He asks, “What’s up?”
I shake my head and say, “Nothing. Um…I—um…”
And now I can’t find my voice. That, coupled with the fact that he caught me staring at his mouth has my cheeks red.
“Did you hear what I asked you?”
“I think so.”
A slow, sneaky smile spreads across his face. “Let me read it again just in case. What do you call a light fixture that is fastened to the wall for support?”
“Oh. That’s a sconce.”
“Good. Next—what is a—?”
He stops the question abruptly.
I glance up at him.
He asks, “Are you paying attention this time?”
“I was paying attention the last time, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, sure you were...”
I feel a wave of heat spread through my body. Ugh…snap out of it, girl.
“What do you call the recessed area within a wall or a room?”
“A niche.”
He frowns as he looks over my notes and says, “I thought that was called a nook. Are you sure you wrote this one down correctly?”
“Gimmie my notebook,” I say, snatching it off the table. I read over more words – upholstery, settee, patina and—
“Zimyra?”
“Yes?” I answer, purposely not looking at him because he’s already overwhelmed my senses with his fineness. My cheeks can’t get any redder and my heart can’t race any faster.
He says, “Would it be wrong of me to say I like spending time with you?”
My goodness. I was wrong. I know my cheeks are redder, and my heart is beating so fast, so loud, he should be able to hear it.
I want to smile, but I don’t. I keep a straight face and say, “Yes, it would be very wrong.”
“Why’s that, Sunflower?”
“Because this—it’s—it’s not—”
“You’re trying to find an excuse not to like me. You’ve been doing it for some time, and I think you need to stop.”
My right brow raises like I have no control over my expressions. Still hiding my amusement and embarrassment, I ask, “Who are you talking to like that?”
“I’m talking to you, Zimyra St. Claire. How about this? Tell me you don’t like spending time with me. I dare you.”
Now, I’m really on the verge of smiling. I hold my notebook in front of my face so he can’t see me. He takes it from my grasp and places it on his lap.
“Seriously?”
“Tell me.”
I close my eyes and try to summon some inner strength, but I have nothing. I say, “I don’t like spending time with you.”
“You’re smiling,” he says.
I blow a breath and look away from him to collect my thoughts before turning to him again. I say, “I cannot risk losing my job over you.”
“Wow.”
“That’s not a diss, Axel. It’s the truth. I have an office to run.”
“I’m not preventing you from doing that.”
“It’s a conflict of interest. I can’t have you slacking on the job or thinking you can get away with certain things because you’re cool with the boss. Not happening.”
“I could be the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“Or the worst,” I counter.
“Or the best ,” he re-counters.
I send him a challenging stare and ask, “Can I have my notebook back, please?”
He hands it to me, our eyes never losing contact.
“Thanks.” I fold it closed and ask, “How far do you stay from here?”
“I’m near downtown.”
“Oh, okay. That’s not far at all.”
“No, it’s not. Question—”
“Please…no more questions…” I say.
“Why did you lock up the office early today? I didn’t have a chance to give you the report.”
“Do you have it on you?”
“It’s in my car.”
“Okay, then just give it to me after you’re done eating. I’m going to be here for a while.”
“You come here to study?”
“Yes. I can’t stay focused at home. I usually don’t have any distractions here.”
A grin settles in the corner of his mouth. “My bad.”
I take a sip of coffee and look up to, once again, being greeted by his mesmerizing eyes.
“As comfortable as your place is, I can’t see it.”
“It’s probably a little too comfortable. If I was there lying on the sofa with my notebook, I’d be asleep.”
“Tell you what—I’m almost finished eating. Let’s test that theory.”
“Let’s not. I cannot stay up late.”
“It’s not late. We can get a couple of hours in.”
“Urgh.”
“Don’t say no when you know you want to say yes.”
I stand up and say, “Can you keep an eye on my notebook? I’ll be right back?”
“Sure.”
I get a refill on my coffee and then return to the table.
Axel has finished his food and has already gathered the trash. “You ready?” he asks.
“Yeah. Let’s go and get this over with.”
I step inside and flick on the lights. Axel has been here once before, so I don’t feel a certain way about him being in my home. In fact, I like him being here. It’s different – so not like me. I never invite men to my apartment. Something just hits different with him.
“Make yourself at home,” I tell him. “I’ll be right back.”
I go to my bedroom, close and lock the door, and then change quickly out of my work clothes. I slide into a pair of jogging pants and a big pink T-shirt then go back to the living room. I find him standing near the wall, staring at my little gallery of family photos.
“You have a nice collection of pictures here. I like how you organized them all. I’m sure you made this collage.”
“Yeah, I did. I go to thrift markets and find interesting pieces and turn them into frames.”
“Nice.”
I turn to the glossary page in my notebook and say, “Okay. Let’s get crackin’. We both have to work tomorrow. There’s no time to waste.”
I sit on the sofa and fold one leg beneath me. He sits as well – closer than I thought he would. My knee is touching his muscular thigh.
Lord have mercy…this man…
He takes the notebook and says. “Give me the definition of chaise. Even I know that one.”
“A chaise is basically a lounge chair.”
“Okay. What about enfilade—I think I pronounced that correctly?”
“Yeah. It’s a series of rooms connected via doorways.”
“Your notes say it’s common in castles and museums. I wonder why you even need to know that.”
I shrug. “It’s just the basics—just like we didn’t need to know how to dissect frogs in high school biology, but we did it, right?”
“True.”
He places my notebook on the coffee table and says, “You know this stuff.”
“I think I know it, but I don’t want to be overconfident. That’s when you make mistakes.”
“When is your test?”
“In a little over a week.”
He says, “Whenever I have a big event coming up in my life, I always take a moment to meditate.”
“And how do you go about doing that?”
“Let me show you.”
He stands, pushes my coffee table away from the sofa, and says, “We have to sit on the floor for this.”
“Okay.”
I unfold my legs, stand up to stretch, and then ease down to the floor where he’s already sitting.”
“Now, move into the same pose as I’m sitting. It’s called Sukhasana.”
“Wait—what? You know the names of poses and whatnot?”
“Don’t judge me. My father got me into this stuff during one of our—I mean one of his company’s retreats.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. We went to Bali for a week to destress, and they showed us all sorts of meditation techniques. You’re in luck because I’m about to pass my knowledge to you.”
I smile while keeping this information he shared with me in my back pocket. His father must be pretty well off for his company to be sending him on retreats and such. Maybe that’s who bought him that expensive watch.
“Okay, now that you’re in the right pose, close your eyes and—”
“Wait—let me turn to a meditation channel on YouTube.”
I reach for the remote on the coffee table. After turning the TV on, I pull up the YouTube app and quickly find one. The music already sounds relaxing. I get back into the pose.
Axel says, “Close your eyes, take a long, deep breath, then slowly release it on a five count.”
I follow through with his instructions and then repeat it several times. I say, “This feels good. It’s great, actually.”
I open my eyes when Axel doesn’t respond to me and he’s staring into my eyes. Was he staring at me all this time?
I say, “What are you doing? I thought you were meditating with me.”
“I was just making sure you were doing it right, but I got caught up thinking about how soft your face looks. I was tempted to touch it.”
“Don’t you dare.”
He smiles, then closes his eyes and takes a breath, and releases it slowly.
“So, I’m supposed to do this when I feel stressed.”
“Yes, or just when you need to focus. You can do it before studying, or if you’re doing anything else that requires a lot of mental exertion.”
“When do you do it?”
“After my workouts. I punish my body when I work out. After a hot shower, I meditate.”
“You don’t seem like the type. I’m finding out a lot about you.”
“You should keep doing that. I’m a really good guy.”
“If you say so yourself, huh?” I grin.
He closes his eyes again and takes another breath.
“So, you said your dad owns a company. Does that mean you used to work for him?”
“Something like that.”
“And what about your mom?”
“She was a secretary—not with his company, though. She retired a few years ago. Honestly, she didn’t need to work. My father made more than enough to take care of us, but she wasn’t the kind of woman to sit around and let a man take care of her. She’s like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yeah. Independent—trying to act like you don’t need a man until one comes into your life and shows you that you need one.”
“I never said I didn’t need a man.”
“That’s the vibe you give off.”
“How so?”
“You know I’m feelin’ you—yet, you won’t give me the time of day.”
I chuckle. “You’re inside my home. My personal space. My sanctuary. Do you think I just invite anyone over here to my place?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Exactly. And , you stated to me that you weren’t the relationship kind.”
“And I meant that.”
“So, why do you think I should be the woman to give you the time of day when our goals are not aligned? I want to get married…eventually. You want none of that.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t say it was something you wanted either.”
“Yeah, well it’s not every day you meet a Sunflower who has a brilliant mind and a beautiful face to match.”
I shake my head. “I’m sure you’ve had your share of beautiful faces.”
He snickers. “I have.”
“And yet, you have no desire to settle down.”
“Have you considered that not all people are put on earth to be with somebody, Zimyra?”
“That’s a lonely life.”
“It’s not.”
“Lies,” I say. “Listen—when God made Adam, what happened? He told him to name the animals, and Adam saw the animals were in pairs, but he didn’t have a mate. He got lonely. He was perfect , and he was lonely.”
“Then Eve bit the freakin’ apple—”
“Nope!” I say laughing. “We’re not having that debate tonight. I need to make my point. You moved here from Connecticut alone, but you’re not alone right now, are you? I showed you where to hang out, and we’ve had dinner together—you’re at my apartment right now. It’s better being with someone than being alone.”
“Only if it’s the right someone.”
“I agree.” I stretch and yawn at the same time. I stand up and say, “Anywho, I think I’m going to shower and call it a night. Now that I’m good and relaxed, I have no more studying in me.”
Still sitting on the floor, he stretches out his hands towards me and says, “Help me up.”
Amused, I say, “I can’t help you get up. You’re six-five, two hundred and twenty pounds of muscle. You could toss me like a loose-leaf piece of paper.”
“Help me up, Zimyra.”
All-out laughing now, I ask, “What exactly do you want me to do? I’m not about to throw my back out.”
“Take my hand.”
“Ugh…” I grunt, rolling my eyes in the process. I reach for his hand. I don’t know why I attempted to pull like I was really going to do anything to help him up. He doesn’t even help himself. In fact, he doesn’t budge.
But I do.
He pulls me down to the floor, right onto his lap. I imagine that was the plan all along, judging by the darkening of his eyes and the firm intensity of his gaze. His arms close around me. My entire body trembles in his embrace. It’s been a long time since I felt a man’s arms wrapped around me like this. It’s overwhelming. Formidable. Intense. Unbearable. The sensation makes my heart swell. I welcome the feeling, yet I’m afraid of it. It’s agonizingly good – too good. I suppose that’s what happens when you deprive yourself of this kind of affection the way that I have. Now that I’m finally getting it, it’s making me lose my mind. Or maybe it’s just the power he possesses. He’s a player – a bad boy. I knew that when I first saw him. He doesn’t have a woman because he has many women.
His eyes glisten as they focus on my lips. Then they travel to my gaze and back to my lips again. He’s testing me – waiting for me to make the first move because he’s so freakin’ cocky like that. He knows the danger of his appeal and he knows that I know it, too. I can’t remember the last time I kissed anyone, but however long the streak was, it’s about to end tonight.
I lean forward and press my lips to his, feeling every cell in my body come alive the moment our lips touch. A spark of static electricity stings my lips, alerting me to how close I am to his face. I smell cedarwood, spice, and testosterone on his skin. I feel the warm exhales as he breathes heavily. I pull back, lick my lips, and look at him. That arrogant smirk falls from his face and is replaced by a serious, covetous gaze that speaks volumes. It says he knows he has me where he wants me, and he knows I want to be right here – where he wants me . His hungry orbs linger on my face, tracing every part of it, committing it to memory. When I feel his large hand cup the back of my head, I know I’m in trouble.
Axel recklessly drives his lips directly into mine. Our mouths crash together in the most devastating way, making my entire body tremble. He sucks my lips. Savors them. Toys with them. Claims them. He flicks his tongue across them.
And I let him.
He lets me bite his lip – not hard – just enough to tease. I drag my tongue across his lips, interchange our lips, and roll his bottom lip around in my mouth like candy. I pull my mouth from his and with my eyes closed, I hear myself moan as I rub my face against the wooly hair of his beard. It feels so good – gosh, it’s good. The little prickles against my skin awaken an intimate yearning that lies deep within me. I don’t stop until I feel his beard against every part of my face. I’ve been wanting to feel his face against mine like this since I realized how much I really liked him.
“Mmm…” I moan.
I’m out of my mind, reeling with need. This is what unchecked desire looks like. The flutters in my stomach are what the makings of a new relationship feels like. It’s the excitement of the possibility of something new. The butterflies. The anticipation. I’m supposed to be getting ready for bed, yet, I find myself moaning while Axel slips his tongue into my mouth. And how the heck did my arms wrap around his neck so effortlessly? When did my legs circle around his waist? This man done made me lose all of my common sense as he kissed me into submission.
He groans as he sucks my tongue into his mouth. My lips go next. All the while, his grip behind my head tightens, holding my mouth steady to his so he can do whatever he wants with it.
I pant my way through it. Moan my way through it. The meditation he taught me won’t work to keep me calm in this case. Deep breathing is out of the question, especially with his tongue inside my mouth.
I’ve never been kissed this way. It’s so thorough, so intimate – like he’s mine and I’m his, and we ain’t sharing no parts of ourselves with anyone else. But then my common sense kicks in just as this kiss is getting good. Just as I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, and hear more groans rumble from his throat. And then there’s that part of him that alerts me to his desire. He wants me.
Though obscured by temptation, my brain still works. The questions running through my mind are plentiful. Why am I kissing a man who has sworn off relationships? Who told me straight up he wasn’t the relationship type? And besides all that, he’s a man I work with. This is wrong on so many levels. I can’t be with him like this. I have my career to think about. I can’t have something like this derailing the path I carved for myself.
Yeah, I can’t do this. And, yes, I’m still convincing myself to release his lips as difficult as that is.
I pull back from him, watching him lick his lips. I say, “Ugh…yeah, you’re bad.”
He smiles. “ I’m bad? You kissed me.”
“Yeah, I shouldn’t have.” I stand up and say, “Alright, it’s time for you to go.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do mean that.”
“You’re kicking me out? After seducing me?”
“I’m not kicking you out, Axel—okay, well I am sort of, but we have work tomorrow, so…”
“Okay, Zimyra.”
He stands up and stretches, making no attempt to hide the bulge in the front of his pants. Then he heads for the door.
Reluctantly, I walk with him there and say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yep,” he says with dreamy eyes. “Goodnight, Zimyra.”
“Goodnight, Axel,” I say and close the door.
I grunt and chastise myself. “What the heck is wrong with you, Zimyra?”
I massage my temples as I pace the hallway. “Why, why, why did you kiss him? Ugh!”
I usually have more control than this. But Axel…
There’s just something about him that lowers my defenses.
I gasp internally.
Unbelievable .
I hop in the shower, hoping to dispel the sour feeling in my gut knowing that I crossed the line with him, but that feeling quickly dissipates and is replaced by longing and desire as I relive the way he kissed me. I close my eyes and replay the kiss – the way his face, his beard, felt next to my face. Oh, what a feeling. And then there’s the way he expertly kissed me like I was the only woman in the world. His hot tongue lapped mine effortlessly. The way the man uses his mouth should be punishable by law. He definitely knows how to kiss. My legs are still nervous from what he did to me. How am I supposed to make it through a full day of work with wobbly legs? Every time the kiss crosses my mind, or whenever I see him, I’ll probably lose the function of my limbs. I may just have to stay at my desk all day. I don’t see any other way to make it through.