Three
Ace
When we made it to Kema’s door, she mumbled the PIN for me to put into the keypad. I punched the numbers in, waited for the lock to click, then pushed the door open and carried her inside.
Kema was thick, but a nigga was in the gym for a reason. Lifting her ass was easy. What wasn’t easy was pretending I wasn’t enjoying having her wrapped around me. She opened her eyes and tapped my chest. “You can put me down.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, Ace.”
I lowered her until her feet touched the floor. Kema immediately kicked off her shoes and sighed. “Thank God.”
I closed and locked the door behind us while she walked further into the apartment. I’d never been inside her place before. I’d dropped her off once or twice when she left the bar, but she’d always been sober enough to get herself inside.
Tonight was different. I followed her toward the kitchen and immediately regretted it. Because Kema walked in front of me. And that ass… Jesus Christ.
My eyes dropped before I could stop them. I watched her wide hips swaying with every step she took. Shit all I could hear in my head was “in those jeans baby girl tell me is there any more room for me.”
I’d never seen a pair of jeans fit anybody as perfectly as her jeans fit her. I was wondering if they were custom to fit her thick ass. Niggas noticed a lot of things and I noticed how most women had that lil gap in the back in their jeans. Kema didn’t have that.
While I was staring at her ass, Kema suddenly turned around and looked over her shoulder. She caught me. I didn’t even pretend that I wasn’t looking. A slow little smirk spread across her face. “You want some water, Mr. Ace?”
See. That was that shit. I nodded and swallowed because I didn’t trust myself to say anything. She knew exactly what she was doing now. Had to.
Kema opened the refrigerator, bent over and pulled out two bottles of water. She handed me one before taking a long drink from hers. “ Are you hungry?”
“Nah. Not really.”
She gave me a look. That had me wondering if I said the wrong thing. “What?”
“Nothing, you just barely ate at the bar.”
“I ate.”
“You ate three wings.”
“Damn you was counting?”
“I just happen to notice things.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Apparently.”
I twisted the cap off my water as she went back into the refrigerator. “What you doing?”
“Making a sandwich.”
“Do you want something”
"Nah."
Kema pulled the bread, bacon, ham, turkey, tomatoes, cheese, mayo, and mustard out before setting everything on the counter. “You sure you don’t want one?”
I looked at the food. “Make me one.”
“See? Greedy ass said you didn't want one.”
“You did offer twice.”
“That was before you irritated me.”
“Too late now. Seeing all that a nigga is hungry.”
She rolled her eyes but grabbed two plates.
I leaned against the opposite counter and watched her.
Kema had sobered up considerably since we’d left the bar.
Her words weren’t running together anymore.
Her eyes were clearer. She was still moving slower than usual, but the woman standing in front of me now wasn’t the same one who had damn near fallen asleep in my truck.
Good. Because my thoughts weren’t getting any cleaner.
“So,” I said, “this what you do?”
“What?”
“Get drunk and make sandwiches?”
She looked over her shoulder. “First of all, I’m not drunk anymore.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your address?”
She rattled it off.
“Birthday?”
“February twenty-second.”
“Who’s the president?”
She stared at me. “Don’t piss me off.”
I laughed. “See? Sober.”
“Exactly.”
She finished making the sandwiches and slid my plate across the island. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We sat across from each other. For a few minutes, neither of us said much. We just ate. And for some reason, that felt stranger than everything else we’d done tonight.
I’d been around Kema more times than I could count. Cookouts. Birthdays. Football games. Parties. Double dates when Kel was still pretending he knew how to act. But I’d never sat across from her at damn near two in the morning in her kitchen.
I liked it more than I should’ve. She took another bite before pointing at me. “You’re staring again.”
I didn’t bother denying it. “So?”
“So why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you keep looking at me?”
“I can’t look at you?”
“Not like that.”
I sat back. “Like what?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I did. But I wanted to hear her say it. “I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Nope.”
She put her sandwich down. “You keep looking at me like…”
“Like?”
She paused. I smiled. “Exactly.”
Her eyes rolled. “You’re annoying.”
“You’ve told me that already.”
“And I’m going to keep telling you.” She picked her sandwich back up, and I took another bite of mine. Then she asked, “You really think I’m beautiful?”
That caught me off guard. We hadn't even talked about that since we were in the car. I put my sandwich down. “Yeah I do.”
She looked at me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“How long?”
My eyebrows pulled together. “How long what?”
“How long have you thought I was beautiful?”
I knew exactly where this conversation was going, and I probably should’ve stopped it. Instead, I leaned forward to look at her and give her my eyes. “Honesty, since I met you.”
Her face changed just slightly. “What?”
I shrugged, "you asked.”
“I know what I asked. I just…” She paused. “Since you met me?”
“Yep.”
“But I was with Markel.”
“I had eyes while you were with Markel.”
“Ace.”
“What?”
“You know what I mean.”
I did. I rubbed my hand over my beard. “Kema, thinking you fine and acting on it are two different things.”
“So you wanted me?”
There it was. Straight to it. I looked at her for a long second. I could’ve lied. Probably would’ve been smarter. But I’d already spent four years pretending this woman didn’t do anything to me. I was tired of lying to myself. “Yeah.”
Her lips parted. I continued before she could misunderstand me. “But you were Kel’s woman.”
“So?”
“So there wasn’t shit for me to do about it.”
“Did you hate seeing us together?”
I laughed. “Why you asking questions you don’t want the answers to?”
“Maybe I want the answers.”
I stared at her. She stared right back. “Yeah,” I finally admitted. “Sometimes.” Her eyes widened. “But that was my problem,” I added. “Not yours. Not his. Mine. So I kept that shit to myself.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“I would’ve never known.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
She looked down at her plate, then back at me. “And now?”
I knew exactly what she meant. Still made her say it. “Now what?”
“I’m not his woman anymore.”
“No.”
“So what’s stopping you now?”
My jaw tightened. This woman was playing with fire. “Kema.”
“What?”
“You need to stop.”
“Why?”
“Because you know why.”
“I don’t.”
“Yes, the fuck you do.”
She stood, and I watched her walk around the island. “Kema.”
She stopped in front of me. “What?”
“You’ve been drinking.”
“I’ve also had food, water, and enough time to know exactly what I’m doing.”
I stood to put even less space between us. She had to tilt her head back to look at me. “Still don’t make this a good idea.”
“I didn’t ask if it was a good idea.”
My eyes dropped to her lips, then immediately came back to hers. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Start something you’re gonna regret tomorrow.”
Her expression softened. “Who said I would?”
“I’m saying it.”
“You regret wanting me?”
“No.” My answer came too fast. But it was honest. And Kema noticed. Her hand came up and rested against my chest. I caught her wrist. Not hard. Just enough to stop her. “Kema.”
“What?”
“Don’t.”
Instead of pulling away, she stepped closer. Then kissed me. For one second, I forgot every damn reason I wasn’t supposed to kiss her back. My hand went to her waist. Her fingers curled into my shirt.
I’d thought about this before. More times than I’d ever admit.
I thought about what her lips would feel like.
What she’d taste like. What she’d feel like pressed against me instead of standing across a room beside somebody else.
Now I knew. And that was exactly why I forced myself to pull away. “Kema.”
Her breathing was heavy and so was mine. I kept my hand on her waist but put enough space between us to look at her. “We not doing this because you had a few drinks and you’re horny all of a sudden.”
Her eyebrows pulled together. “I’m sober.”
“You’ve been drinking.”
“And I’ve been sitting here talking to you for damn near an hour.”
“That don’t mean—”
“I know where I am and what I’m about to do.” I went quiet. She stepped closer again. “This isn’t an accident, Ace. I won’t regret it tomorrow.”
My eyes searched hers. She wasn’t slurring. Wasn’t swaying. Wasn’t looking through me. She was looking directly at me. Then she said the one thing I needed to hear. “I’m sober.” Her hand slid back onto my chest. “And I want you.”
Fuck. Every ounce of restraint I’d been holding onto snapped.
I kissed her with pure hunger. This time, I didn’t pull away.
Kema’s arms wrapped around my neck as mine went around her waist. I lifted her, and she gasped against my mouth.
Her legs instinctively wrapped around me.
And just like earlier, carrying her wasn’t a problem.
I crossed the few steps to the kitchen island and lowered her onto the counter.
She looked up at me. And her lips were swollen from kissing me.
For four years, I’d told myself this woman was off-limits.
For four years, I’d watched her walk into rooms on another man’s arm and reminded myself that wanting something didn’t make it mine.
I’d respected that. Even when I hated it.
But Kema wasn’t Markel’s woman anymore. She was sitting on her kitchen counter with her hands gripping my shirt, looking at me like she wanted the exact same thing I’d spent years trying not to want. I brushed my thumb along her cheek. “One more time.”
Her eyebrows pulled together. “What?”
“Tell me you want this.”
She didn’t hesitate. “I want you, Ace.”