Chapter 3 #2
She rose slowly, then hesitated for a moment. She hadn’t lied earlier about what made this night seem wild, even if it felt tame compared to Caliph’s sexual proclivities. Essentially, they really were strangers. She didn’t even know where he lived. This was stupid and reckless.
Caliph held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
“Why?” Even as she asked the question, she handed it over.
“Who’s your best friend?”
“Beth.”
He turned it on and clicked on her list of contacts before handing it back to her. “Send a text to Beth. Tell her where you’re going and give her my address.”
“Okay.” Apparently Jennifer wasn’t the only one with common sense.
Caliph read her concerns and he’d found a way to alleviate the fear.
She tapped out the address he gave, promising to check in, and then she hit send.
No doubt Beth would be beating on her apartment door first thing tomorrow morning, excitedly demanding details and a complete recap of the evening.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded.
“You still wanna come home with me?”
She smiled and released a long, slow breath. “So damn much.”
Caliph stopped by the bar to make sure Sassy had a ride home.
They’d decided to leave her car at Midnight Ink and ride to the club together.
He assured her that her car would be fine at the tattoo shop overnight, so he drove her to his house.
The trip was surprisingly relaxing as they talked about anything and everything—her family, his work at the shop, their mutual love of jazz.
When they reached his house, Caliph turned the car off, but neither of them bothered to get out. They just kept talking.
Though they’d only known each other a short time, Jennifer felt like she’d shared more of herself with Caliph in just one evening than she had with Marcus during the last few years of their marriage.
Finally, Caliph glanced at his phone, his eyebrows rising. “Damn. Where did that time go?” Nearly two hours had passed, but to Jennifer it felt like the blink of an eye.
“I have no idea, but Caliph…” Her nervousness had evaporated somewhere in the midst of their long talk, and now, when faced with the prospect of going inside, she felt nothing but overwhelming desire and need.
He’d said her expressions gave her away. Apparently he hadn’t lied. Caliph’s eyes darkened with honest-to-God hunger. It took her breath away. No one had ever looked at her with such unbridled lust.
“I don’t think I’m going to make it inside,” she whispered, assaulted by an arousal so painful and beautiful she wasn’t sure she could walk without coming.
“Oh fuck yeah.” Caliph was out of the car and opening her door between one blink of the eye and the next.
He reached down to help her out, wrapping her in his huge embrace.
She recalled building a tent as a child, tying the corners of a big blanket to the four posts of her bed.
She’d huddle beneath it in the darkness, soaking up the warmth and security of her snug hiding spot.
Caliph’s hug reminded her of that place, bringing back sensations of being safe and happy.
Neither of them spoke when he loosened his grip, taking her hand to lead her into his small house.
It reminded her of the man—simple, straightforward.
His yard was neatly trimmed, the porch clean, freshly painted.
When he opened the door and turned on the light, she admired the cozy warmth of his home.
Family portraits covered the wall of his living room.
“Want a tour?” he offered.
She shook her head. There would be time for that later. Maybe. “No.” She let that one word tell him exactly what she wanted.
Caliph tightened his grip on her hand and tugged her down a narrow hallway and straight into his bedroom.
“Take off your clothes.”
The quick demand would have freaked out old Jennifer, but the woman Caliph was helping her discover was beyond modesty.
She unbuttoned her blouse, shrugging it over her shoulders without hesitance.
Caliph didn’t join her in disrobing. Instead he ate her alive with his eyes, and amazingly, he appeared to like what he saw.
Marcus had pointed out the fact that she’d let herself go, that she’d gained a few pounds, as yet another reason he’d wanted out.
She shoved that memory away. The bastard had no place here tonight.
She wasn’t going to let him cast his miserable shadow on one minute of this.
Jennifer toed off her shoes, then unzipped her skirt. Her actions slowed. Despite her attempts to hold on to her newfound confidence, she found it wavering.
Caliph stepped closer. “You’re beautiful. Perfect. Take off the skirt.”
She reacted without thought—as the skirt, her panties, and even her bra fell away with ease—until she stood before him completely naked. Jennifer resisted the urge to close her eyes, to hide before she could see his response. She wasn’t thin and she sure as hell wasn’t young.
“Turn around,” Caliph demanded.
Since entering the room, she’d noticed the change in his demeanor. Her gentle giant had disappeared, replaced by this commanding, sexy-as-sin man. Every order he issued sent shivers of excitement down her spine.
Jennifer spun a half turn, then paused, letting him look his fill. Facing away from him gave her the freedom to relax, to stop working overtime to shield her expressions. She scrunched her eyes closed tightly and prayed.
Please don’t let him be disgusted like Marcus. Please.
She jerked slightly when Caliph’s hands landed on her shoulders. “Dammit, Jen. Stop that.”
Her eyelids flew open and that was when she noticed the mirror in front of her. So much for playing it cool.
She captured his gaze in the reflection, forced herself to face what she’d been afraid to see.
“What were you thinking about?”
She didn’t bother to lie. “Marcus. He didn’t care for my looks.”
His fingers stroked her shoulders, drawing circles on her skin. “He doesn’t have any place here. He was an idiot and a fool. His loss. My gain.”
She smiled, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat, fighting to hold back the tears threatening to fall. God. She’d told him she was broken. Falling apart and crying like a baby in his arms would only drive that point home.
She wouldn’t do it. Jennifer took a deep breath, then turned around to face him. “Do I get to see you naked?”
He cupped her cheeks and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Their first kiss. Like everything about him, it washed away her preconceived notions of how a man who looked like Caliph would kiss. It was soft and warm, nothing scary or rough.
“Go sit on the bed.”
More commands. When she considered their conversations—few though there had been—she realized almost everything he’d ever asked of her had been worded as a demand, rather than a request. And yet that didn’t bother her.
Didn’t send her hackles up like it would whenever Marcus tried to tell her what to do.
In fact, Caliph’s orders made her hot, made her melt inside. She walked over to his bed, sitting on the edge to watch as he treated her to her own private striptease.
Once Caliph removed his shirt, Jennifer was able to finally see the whole picture of his tattoos, rather than the half peeks she’d glimpsed at the shop and tonight.
“Wow,” she whispered, rising from the bed.
She walked over, compelled to add touch to sight.
She ran her fingers over every beautiful work of art on his chest, his arms. Stepping around him, she stroked the large tree that covered his back, her eyes discovering the clever way he’d incorporated the names of his brothers and sisters into the branches and leaves.
It reinforced what she’d learned at the jazz club earlier.
Family was very important to him. That thought touched her.
Her grandmother had always told her when she was younger to look at how a man treated his mother because that offered a clue about how he would treat his wife.
Figures that pearl of wisdom reappeared now—two decades too late.
Marcus barely spoke to his mother. Then she considered what a shame it was that Caliph didn’t believe in marriage.
Given his undeniable love for his mother, she suspected he’d shower a wife in adoration.
“You’ve gone quiet back there.” Caliph’s deep voice drew her from her thoughts.
“Just admiring the artwork. It’s amazing.”
He turned to look at her, smiling. “I was worried it might be a bit too much for you.”
She shook her head. For old Jennifer, yeah. The image of so much ink would have intimidated and freaked her out a bit. Triggered all those stupid stereotypes she suddenly hated. Now she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything more beautiful. “Not at all.”
“Good. Then I’m going for broke.” He slid off his shoes, unzipped his jeans and dropped them to the floor. Caliph went commando.
Her gaze drifted lower. Her subconscious acknowledged the tats on his legs, but Caliph’s fully erect cock overshadowed them.
“Whoa.”
Caliph chuckled, taking her hand and wrapping it around his thick girth. He kept his grip on hers as he guided her strokes along his hard flesh.
“How long has it been?”
She searched for an answer, trying to calculate months…and then years. Finally, she said, “Too long.”
“Don’t move.” He stepped away from her, quickly pulling a drop cloth from under his bed. She watched as he stripped away the soft comforter, replacing it with the cloth.
“Are we painting or something?” she asked.
He looked over his shoulder at her and winked. “Oh yeah. Art class is about to begin.” He returned to her and kissed her briefly once more.
“Go lie on the bed. On your back.”
Moment of truth. Thank God.
She assumed the position, expecting Caliph to join her, to crawl over her body and give her exactly what she’d been longing for.
Instead, he walked away from the bed, dragging a box from the closet.