Chapter 24 #3
They stayed out there until the temperature dropped and her teeth started chattering. Then he helped her up, dusted off her skirt, and walked her back to the villa with his arm around her shoulders.
“Tomorrow, I want to ride the horses at sunrise,” she said.
“No,” he said, setting her on the bed.
“Why?” she pouted, “I’ve never been on a horse.”
He smacked his lips, and she laughed. “Bullshit.”
“I’ve never been on a real horse,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“I know, baby, but the doc advises against it. I barely got her to agree that you could fly.” He pulled his shirt over his head, and she tried very hard to focus on his face. “This is your baby moon, and I need my babies to be alive and well when we leave.”
“Ohh, that’s why you’ve been talking to Dr. Khalifa behind my back.”
“You’re not gonna get trampled on my watch.” He came back to her, hands settling on her waist. “So yes.”
“That’s so sweet, baby. I guess I’ll allow it.”
He leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. “I got you, Ken. Always.”
“I love you.”
The words were out before she could stop them, but she would never tire of telling him.
His hands tightened on her waist, and he pulled back enough to look at her.
“Repeat that for me.”
Her heart was hammering, but she didn’t take it back. “I love you, Rolani.”
Relief and joy flooded his body, evident in his face. “I love you too, Kennedi.”
Then he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back, and neither of them said anything else for a very long time because their mouths and hands were occupied roaming, teasing, and pleasing.
She lost track of how many orgasms he’d blessed her with.
The shower. The bed. Against the window.
He didn’t stop until he got a cramp in his thigh. She was in love.
Kennedi woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of Rolani on the phone, his voice a low rumble from the deck. The morning light filtered through the massive windows, painting everything gold. She stretched, feeling deliciously sore in all the right places, and grabbed his t-shirt from the floor.
“Nah, tell Tony his ass better handle that,” she heard him saying. “I’m ghost till Monday... Yeah, with Ken... Nigga, mind your business.”
She padded out in his T-shirt, the hem hitting mid-thigh, her belly pushing the front up just enough to show more than she realized. She found him in basketball shorts, no shirt, with the morning sun hitting all that brown skin and ink.
He ended the call when he saw her. His eyes moved slowly and came back up. “Come here.”
She walked to him, and he pulled her between his legs, hands finding her waist.
“Sleep good?”
“Yeah, until somebody’s loud ass woke me up.”
“My bad. Tony talking about some bullshit that could’ve waited.” He kissed her stomach through the shirt.
“What are we doing today?”
“I saw your face last night, so we gon go feed the horses in an hour. I can’t have my baby disappointed.”
“I’m a little sad I don’t get to ride, though.”
“Next time. When you’re not carrying my son.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Should I be nervous to feed the horse?”
“Nah, I got you. Plus, your horse is as old as dirt. She ain’t moving faster than you can handle.”
“Oh, so you got me on the geriatric horse?”
“Safety first, baby.” He laughed when she swatted him. “Go shower. I ordered breakfast.”
“Together?”
“If we shower together, we’re missing those horses.”
Twenty minutes later, she emerged in boyfriend jeans and a tank top to find him setting up breakfast on the deck— it was a full spread. They ate quickly and headed out to the stables.
At the stables, their guide—an older Black woman named Ms. Diane—took one look at them and shook her head, smiling.
“Newlyweds?”
“Not yet,” Rolani said at the same time.
Ms. Diane’s smile widened. “Mmhmm. Well, this here is Buttercup. Gentle as they come. She loves apples.”
She handed Kennedi a bucket of cut apples and carrots. Kennedi approached the horse carefully, holding out an apple slice on her flat palm the way Ms. Diane showed her.
“Hey, Buttercup. We’re gonna be friends, right? You’re not gonna bite my fingers off in front of my man?”
“She won’t bite,” Ms. Diane assured her. “Keep your palm flat.”
Buttercup’s soft lips brushed her hand, taking the apple, and Kennedi let out a surprised laugh.
“Oh! That tickles.”
“Look at you,” Rolani said, already pulling out his phone. “You a natural.”
“Boy, stop. I’m just feeding her.”
“And looking fine as hell doing it.” He snapped the picture before she could protest. “That’s my new wallpaper. All of that right there.”
“All of what?” Kennedi cut her eyes at him.
“You know what.” His grin was slow.
“Nasty ass. Ms. Diane is right there.”
Ms. Diane laughed. “Baby, I've been married forty years. Ain’t nothing I ain’t heard.”
Rolani grabbed an apple slice and fed Thunder—a bigger, more spirited horse in the next stall—with annoying ease. The horse nuzzled his hand like they were old friends.
“Of course, you get the one named Thunder.”
“He knows real when he sees it.”
“You and this horse bonding over ego. That’s cute.”
Ms. Diane offered to let them walk Buttercup around the paddock, and they spent the next hour brushing her coat, feeding her treats, and wandering the grounds while the sun climbed higher.
Rolani stayed close, his hand finding the small of her back, her shoulder, her hand—always touching her like he couldn’t help it.
“You having fun?” he asked as they stopped by the fence, watching the other horses graze in the distance.
“Yeah.” She leaned into him. “This is perfect. Thank you for figuring out a way to make it work.”
“That’s my job, baby. Make it work for you.”
When they finally said goodbye to Buttercup, Kennedi’s cheeks hurt from smiling.
“What’s next?”
“I figured we’d be a little tired so I scheduled couple’s massages. I thought of everything.”
Back at the villa, they showered, and she came out to find him on the deck, rolling a blunt.
“Really?”
“We on vacation.” He patted his lap. “Come here.”
She curled into him, watching him roll the blunt with practiced hands.
“I fed a horse today. I’m basically a whole different person.”
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “You still you. The relaxed version.”
“I like the relaxed version.”
“Me too.” He kissed her temple. “But I like all your versions.”
She went quiet, letting the weight of his arm around her and the peace of the moment mellow her out.
And maybe he needed it too. He’d spent so long rooted in Coupeville, tied down by loyalty and family, letting grief keep his world small because it felt safer that way. But sitting here with her, watching her eyes light up at the horizon, he felt it… that quiet pull to want more again.
Different cultures. Different foods. Different experiences.
She made him want to live again.
They sat there until it was time for massages, her asking random questions. “Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses?”
“Baby, what kinda question is that?” He laughed. “You loopy off this fresh air.”
“Answer the question, Rolani.”
“The duck,” he said finally. “I could take one big duck.”
“You sure? Ducks are mean.”
“Baby, I’m from the Southside. I done seen meaner shit.”
“Be prepared for me to call PETA on you when you do decide to box a duck.”
“That’s fucked up,” he said, shaking his head.
She laughed until her stomach hurt, clutching her side as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
Rolani sat back, watching her with that soft, unguarded expression that made her feel lighter than she ever had with anyone else.
She was starting to understand the hype of having a person.
Her person. And hers happened to be fine as hell, sharp-minded, unexpectedly kind, and a little reckless in all the ways that kept her on her toes.
“What?” she asked when she finally caught him staring.
“Nothing.” His voice lowered. “I always enjoy my time with you.”
Her lips curved, stomach fluttering. “I enjoy my time with you too. You’ve quickly became my best friend.”
His eyes darkened, and before she could process it, he leaned forward, grabbing the back of her neck and kissing her. It wasn’t tender; his mouth devoured hers, hot and hungry. His hand slipped under her robe, sliding between her thighs with a confidence that had her gasping into his mouth.
When his finger pushed inside her, she inhaled sharply, clinging to him as her lips stayed tangled with his. The kiss was so deep, so intense, her head spun. She swore she was seeing stars…until a sharp knock rattled the door behind them.
“Nooo,” she whined.
Rolani leaned back, breathing heavy, his bottom lip caught between those gold teeth.
The sight alone made her shudder, thighs instinctively clamping around his forearm.
Another series of taps hit the door, and with maddening calm, he slipped his glistening fingers from between her legs and slid them into his mouth.
He sucked them clean while staring her down.
“You gon’ get the door, Ken?” he asked, his tone all tease and temptation.
Truth was, he wanted to send whoever it was away.
He could rub her down, work her muscles loose, ease her tension better than any stranger.
But he held back, knowing she deserved every ounce of pleasure he’d planned for her this weekend.
She laughed, cheeks flushed, a little embarrassed by how easily he unraveled her. “You will finish that later, understood?”
His grin was wicked. “I got you, baby.”
The knock came again, firmer this time, and Kennedi finally straightened her robe before opening the door.
Two massage therapists stepped inside, both Black women dressed in crisp linen uniforms with the luxury ranch’s gold-stitched crest on their pockets.
They greeted Kennedi warmly, professional but cool, and the room instantly settled in the calm that follows Black women wherever they show up.