CHAPTER FIFTY
NAJEE
Najee stilled the second the door opened.
Not because he wasn’t expecting her. But because of what she looked like.
White thigh-high socks stretched up her thick thighs, stopping right where the soft flesh curved.
The gray babydoll nightgown she had on barely did its job.
It was soft, sheer, and left almost nothing to the imagination.
Her hair was pinned up lazily in a claw clip, a few strands slipping loose around her face.
But somehow it wasn’t the outfit that got him.
It was the glasses. Oversized tortoiseshell frames.
The exact pair he remembered complimenting the first time he had ever been in her home.
Najee didn’t move, and for a second, neither did she.
They just stood there in the doorway, staring.
All Najee could focus on was her neck. The soft, warm slope of it—and how easy it would be to wrap his hand around it, pull her close, and kiss her there.
His eyes moved over her once, before settling somewhere safer—because his first instinct wasn’t helpful right now.
Rain dripped from his hair down the side of his face.
His clothes clung to him, damp from the storm, chest rising a little harder than normal.
He knew showing up this late was a gamble.
He knew shit could go left. And there was a real possibility that she might not even open the door.
But turning around? That was never really an option.
Not once she texted him and he felt that shift.
Najee stayed at the dinner longer than he needed to.
Forty-five minutes longer. And as much as he wanted to dip, Irish exit style, he still needed to keep up appearances and remain respectful.
The drive from King of Prussia had been brutal.
Freezing rain slammed the windshield, wind shoved against the truck like it was trying to turn him back.
At one point it got so bad he had to pull over, sitting there with his hands on the wheel, phone dead.
And of course, out of all nights, he was in the Porsche.
The one car he barely drove, and never kept a charger in.
So now it was just him, and the decision he’d already made.
Najee finally lifted his eyes to hers, dark and steady.
“You inviting me in,” he said, voice low and rough from the cold, “or we just gone stand here?” Jackie hesitated for half a second, then stepped back and opened the door wider.
He wasn’t drenched, but the rain still clung to him, darkening the shoulders of his all-black suit.
The second he crossed the threshold, she moved close.
Her hands went to his coat, sliding it off his shoulders with quiet focus.
“Hold on,” she murmured, not quite looking at him.
Najee’s eyes stayed locked on her. Because from behind, that little nightgown wasn’t playing fair.
The soft fabric shifted with every step she took, giving him a quick, dangerous flash of yellow lace peeking underneath.
And when she walked away to hang the coat, the short nightgown rode up just enough for him to see the way the lace was getting swallowed by the curve of her ass with every movement.
His jaw tightened. He dragged his gaze back up before it could linger too long.
But the image was already burned in. She disappeared for a second, then came back holding a heather gray Norf Starr sweatshirt.
It was soft and worn-in, like it had been loved for a while.
“Monty gave this to my big son one of the last times he was here,” she said, holding it out. “You a little taller, but it’ll fit.”
Najee didn’t take the sweatshirt right away.
His eyes stayed on her, steady and unreadable, as he reached up and started unbuttoning his damp shirt.
Slow. Deliberate. One button at a time. He didn’t miss the way her eyes flicked down to his chest. Didn’t miss how fast she caught herself and looked away.
Instead, she started doing that fast-talking shit she did when she was nervous or lying.
“I know it’s a little chilly in here,” she said, her voice pitched a little higher than normal.
“The heater’s been acting up again, but upstairs still got some heat—”
“Is Max here?” Najee cut through her rambling, calm but direct.
Jackie’s head snapped toward him, lips forming that familiar little pout.
“You think I’d open my door this late if my baby was here?
” she shot back, attitude laced through every word.
Najee kept working on the buttons, unfazed.
“First of all, he ain’t a baby. He a young man,” he said evenly.
“Second, I’m just making sure.” By the time his shirt hung open, revealing the white tank underneath, Jackie was doing everything she could not to stare.
She reached for his jacket instead. “I can throw that in the dryer for you,” she offered quickly.
Najee shook his head. “This Tom Ford. It don’t go in the dryer.
My love” He folded the jacket with care, then did the same with the oxford shirt, precise and unhurried, before handing them both to her.Jackie stared at him for a second, then rolled her eyes.
“You too bougie.” Najee almost laughed, but he held it.
He watched as she carried the pieces over to the closet.
She didn’t rush or toss them aside. She took her time, grabbing hangers, smoothing the jacket out carefully, then doing the same with the shirt, adjusting both until they hung just right.
Najee’s gaze stayed on her the whole time taking her in fully.
Her short nightgown rode up when she reached for the hangers, but that wasn’t the only thing he admired.
It was how was doing the task. There was something thoughtful in her movements that didn’t match the nervous energy she was putting off.
Najee took in the space while she finished in the closet.
Jackie’s place felt the same as he remembered, cozy, lived-in, and eclectic in a way that didn’t try too hard.
Not much had changed. A couple empty wine coolers sat on the side table.
There were a few throw pillows were scattered across the floor like she’d had company earlier.
His eyes moved slowly over everything, but the place itself wasn’t what held his attention.
It was her. The way she moved around the living room now—straightening pillows that didn’t need straightening, picking things up and putting them back down.
Like staying busy would keep some distance between them.
Najee could feel the energy coming off her, anxious, tight and restless.
She was nervous in a way she wasn’t about to admit out loud.
“Sit down,” she said finally, motioning toward the couch like she was trying to put some space between them.
Najee didn’t let her get far. His hand came out, wrapping gently but firmly around her arm, stopping her mid-step.
“You sit down too,” he said low, voice calm but leaving no room for argument.
She tried to play it off at first, a small shift like she could keep moving.
“I’m good, I was just—” This time he looked at her and whatever resistance she had left stilled.
The room went quiet except for the rain tapping against the windows and low thunder rolling outside.
Jackie swallowed. “I thought you wasn’t coming,” she said, softer now. “I was just about to go to bed.”
Najee’s mouth twitched. “So you ain’t wear them socks for me?
” She held his gaze for a second, then looked away.
“No. I wore them for me.” she said unconvincingly.
Najee leaned back just enough to take her in again, slower this time.
His eyes traced the white thigh-high socks stretched over her thick thighs, the short babydoll dress barely covering the yellow lace underneath.
“Jackie…” he said, quieter now. The way he said her name made her look back at him.
“Anything I say I’m gonna do…” He let the pause sit for a moment.
“I do.” She didn’t respond right away. She just looked at him, like she was deciding how much she was really ready to give.
Then she spoke. “I know I told you on text already… I’m sorry,” she said, quieter now.
“But I wanted to explain what I’m actually sorry for. ”
Her eyes met his.
“I’m not sorry I accepted the ride from Cash or that I spent the night at his house.”
“At the time, I thought—”
“Jackie.” He cut her off, calm and even. His hand came up to the side of her neck, resting there gently but firmly enough to keep her attention on him. His delivery wasn’t harsh or impatient, just certain enough for her to understand. “You don’t gotta explain why you did it,” he said, voice low.
“I can figure that part out. You were in a tough spot, and he was there.” He paused for a second.
“I believe you when you say nothing happened.” He felt the small shift in her body, the way some of the tension eased.
“My issue was the lying,” he continued, his thumb brushing lightly along her neck.
“Even if it was just by omission. That’s what got me.
” Her gaze dropped. “But I get that too,” he added.
“I understand why you did it.” Najee let that sit for a moment before he kept going.
“I could’ve handled it better on my end as well ,” he admitted. “I was in my feelings. I ain’t like hearing you spent the night with another man or seeing you drive his whip.” He met her eyes again. “But that’s on me.” He paused, then spoke again. “I didn’t make myself clear from the jump.”
The room felt quieter now. Heavier, but not tense.
“Let me fix that right now,” he said. Her breath caught slightly.
“I want you, Jackie. All of you. And everything that comes with you, the good, the bad, all that.” His hand stayed at her waist, steady.
“But it only works if you let me in. You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle.
You gotta talk to me.” Jackie stayed quiet for a long moment.
Then her shoulders dropped just a little.
That small surrender told him everything.
He patted his thigh lightly. “Come here.” This time she didn’t hesitate.
She straddled him slow, settling into his lap with a warmth that made his jaw tighten.
Najee exhaled through his nose, trying to keep his control.
“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath. His hand slid back to her neck as he rested his forehead against hers. “Talk to me,” he said, voice low. “Tell me what you thinking.” She hesitated, then started.
“Najee… I come with a lot. And—” He cut her off mid-sentence, locking eyes with her. His grip on her neck stayed gentle but steady as he leaned in and kissed her, slow and deep, right between her words. She softened instantly, a small whimper slipping out before she could catch it.
“I know,” he murmured against her lips, kissing her again. “And I want it.” Another kiss, slower this time, pulling a deeper sound from her throat. “The good.” Kiss. “The bad.” Kiss. “The ugly.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes heavy.
“I’m equipped for all that, Jackie. I meant what I said. “I want everything you come with.”
She didn’t say another word. She leaned in to kiss him before adjusting herself on his lap.
Najee felt himself hardening beneath her, his dick pressing up against the heat between her legs.
He could see her erect nipples pushing against the thin fabric of the nightgown.
She was turned on. Really turned on. And she knew exactly what she was doing to him.
Jackie started subtly grinding against him, slow, sensual rolls of her hips that had his jaw tightening as he fought to stay in control.
“Jackie…” he breathed, voice rough. His hands gripped her waist. “Can I have you?” he asked, voice low and strained, almost pleading. “All of you? “She looked down at him, eyes heavy, lips parted.
She nodded.
“Yes.”