Chapter 16
After dinner, I light a fire and, while waiting for Lexie to join me, queue up “Black Panther” on the TV.
The sound of hissing sap and the smell of birch fill the living room as she enters.
She’s changed from that smoke show of a top that clung to her body into a navy hoodie. It has the same effect—instant lust.
“I come baring gifts.” She dangles a bag of Skittles from her fingers.
She remembered that, too. No one’s ever made the effort to give me a date filled with my favorite things. “Scoring big points tonight, Blue.”
“I’m aiming for a five-star rating,” she quips, tossing the bag on the coffee table as she sinks onto the cushion next to me. “Your favorite meal and movie—I can’t miss.”
I could sit with her watching paint dry, and she wouldn’t miss. But eyeing the inches between us, I try being clever. “Some of the scenes are scary.”
“I’ll be okay. I don’t usually get scared at movies.”
“I was talking about me.”
That earns me a withering look that says she’s not amused, but the twitch of her lips gives her away.
The best, though, is that it works. Lexie slides over and tucks herself into my side, her legs curling beneath her.
I kick my feet up onto the ottoman and slip my arm around her shoulders, pressing her closer.
I breathe in her delicate scent; the faint mix of vanilla and lavender is like a refreshing breath of spring after a long, long winter.
“So this is the original?” she confirms when I aim the remote at the screen.
“Yep, the real deal.”
“What is it about this one?”
“Action, plot, character—it’s all there. Plus, it has some of the strongest female characters in any franchise. Okoye, Shuri, Nakia—they’re all badass in different ways. I think you’ll like them. And,” I add. “The cast is diverse. I dig some color in my heroes.”
“All great reasons.” She smiles. “Looking forward to it.”
I hit play, and the world of Wakanda bursts onto the screen in vibrant colors. I’ve seen it multiple times, so I’m most interested in Lexie’s reactions.
“Wow,” she gasps at the first waterfall fight. Illuminated by the glow of the television, the light catches the expressions in her eyes—riveted then startled as the scene unfolds.
“Just wait,” I murmur against the crown of her head, letting my fingers trace slow, deliberate patterns along the outside of her arm and the back of her neck.
She’d pulled her hair up in a cute, messy bun, giving me free access to that spot.
With every pass of my fingers against her nape, she shivers slightly, and her breath hitches.
It’s heaven and hell both at once. I’m hyperaware of her body against mine, the sounds of her shifting to get closer amplified over the movie.
It doesn’t help that as we share the bag of Skittles, she eats them slowly, slipping them into her mouth, one at a time.
I watch her drag out every bite, sucking off the candy coating before she chews and swallows.
It’s a maddening mind-fuck that has me ready to dive headfirst into an ice bath—or her.
By the time the credits roll, I’m pulled tighter than a guitar string.
“I get it now.” She looks up at me, her glasses slipping a bit down her nose, her voice filled with wonder. “It’s not just the action. It’s everything. The visuals, the strength, the culture—it was beautiful.”
“I’m glad you saw it that way.”
“You might’ve converted me. I’m up for the sequel.”
I smile and gently push her glasses back in place for her. “We could do it at my place. I’ll show you my studio.”
“I’d love that.” She unfolds her long legs and stands. “I’m going to get some wine. Do you want anything?”
Yeah, I want something. I want to peel off that baggie hoodie and taste every inch of her soft skin.
“Chaz?” she says, forcing my thoughts back in line. “Can I get you anything to drink? More wine?”
“Uh, no thanks.”
She disappears into the kitchen and returns with her glass half-full. “Are you up for playing a game of Scrabble?”
It’s an innocent question, but every word she speaks translates into something sexual in my mind. I’d gotten to touch her breasts the other night, but I hadn’t been able to see them clearly in the dark. Now, looking at her all covered up, I’m dying to know what color her nipples are.
“Chaz?” she prompts, narrowing her eyes at me.
I shift on the couch, thinking if I don’t get my shit together, I’m going to have to pull a pillow over my lap. “Yeah?”
“I asked if you wanted to play Scrabble. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” If having all the blood rush from my brain to my dick qualifies as fine.
“You don’t seem fine. Something’s obviously on your mind. Just tell me.”
“You sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure.”
I meet her eyes, letting my grin spread lazily. “I can’t stop imagining what your nipples look like.”
She softly gasps, and her cheeks flush pink.
“You asked,” I say with a shrug.
“I did,” she replies, not appearing offended. If anything, her surprise has morphed into curiosity. Leaning against the archway, her teeth bite into the corner of her plump bottom lip, rolling it inward. “What did you imagine?”
“Light, golden brown,” I say, dropping my voice. “Like two pieces of toffee. The hard kind, you just want to suck on.”
A visible shiver moves through her, and the air thickens.
“Am I right?”
In a bold move, she teases, “I guess you’ll have to find out.”
“Challenge accepted.”
“Meaning?” Her eyebrow arches.
“Care to make that Scrabble game more interesting?”