Chapter 12 #2
He looks me up and down, unapologetic.
“Aye, but you’ve always been worth the wait.”
I roll my eyes, but my pulse betrays me. Kosh steps closer. Not too close. Just close enough for me to catch his cologne.
Rich.
Dark.
Dangerous.
And suddenly memories flood in—late nights, closed curtains, his face buried between my thighs, promises whispered against my skin.
“You know the whole city is watching, right?” I murmur.
“Good,” he says simply, flashing that grin.
“Kosh… I prefer to be low-key.”
“I know.”
He shrugs.
“But I didn’t come here to hide.”
Kosh reaches for my hand slowly, like he’s reclaiming something that never stopped being his.
“You look tired,” he says softly.
“I am.”
“Then let me carry that weight tonight.”
He pauses.
“And a few days after that.”
The words knock the air out of my lungs. For the first time in weeks… I want to let him. I slide into the passenger seat of his Maybach. Outside, whispers scatter like bees as the car pulls away.
Smooth.
Silent.
And just like that—I become the city’s favorite conversation again.
Seen in Teflon Hills with a man who isn’t Chauncey. The Maybach hums up the ramp of the Black Square like it owns the concrete.
Inside, the air smells like cedar and old money. Kosh rests his thumb on my knee.
Quiet.
Steady.
Claiming without asking.
We finally pull up to the Ruby Bleu Hotel. Kosh swipes a keycard, and the elevator opens straight into the penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame Teflon Hills like a painting. City lights pulse below us like a heartbeat.
For a second…I forget to breathe.
“Aye, Rhy,” Kosh says softly. “You still with me?”
“Barely,” I admit.
He smiles—not cocky, just warm.
“You always did look good standing in places you weren’t supposed to.”
“Who says I’m not supposed to?”
“Every jealous soul in this damn city,” he murmurs, brushing a loose curl off my cheek. “And I don’t give a fuck about any of them.”
The tension between us stretches tight.
Weeks of distance sit between us like a third presence in the room.
Watching.
Waiting.
Kosh leans closer—not to kiss me yet. Just to whisper.
“You look tired of being strong.”
His voice drops.
“Let me take some of that pressure off you.”
Something inside me cracks. I needed that. My shoulders loosen. My chest sinks just enough to breathe again. His arms close around me slowly, deliberately—not to claim me… just to hold me up.
And I let him. Down on the curb, two familiar faces sit in a rose-gold Infiniti with the windows cracked.
Rendi.
Lee-Lee.
Two hoes Chauncey used to deal with. I catch them staring.
I smile at their raggedy asses.
“That’s her,” Rendi hisses, phone already raised. “That’s Rhy. And that ain’t Chauncey. I’m dropping the dime on this bitch.”
Lee-Lee squints through the windshield. “Damn… she really outside with another nigga.” Her voice drops. “Chauncey gonna lose his damn mind.”
She smirks.
“And hopefully he comes back to me.”
They snap photo after photo. Kosh’s hand on my back. My head tipped toward him. My laugh spills out like I forgot the whole world exists.
Fuck them hoes.
I know those pictures will hit Instagram stories in about three minutes. Then the group chats. The elevator doors slide shut behind us like the world just got locked out.
Kosh tosses the keycard on the console and pulls off his hoodie. City lights spill across his chest like liquid gold. He moves differently.
Confident.
Quiet.
Like he already knows what he wants. And he’s decided it’s me.
I drift toward the windows. The skyline flickers beneath me like static.
“This view is insane.”
“You should see it from my side,” he says behind me.
I turn.
And he’s closer than he was a second ago. Not touching. But the air between us is trembling.
“Rhy.”
Just my name.
Low.
Steady.
Reverent.
“Kosh.”
“You’ve been running so long,” he murmurs. “You don’t even realize you’re tired.”
He’s right.
I’ve been sprinting through heartbreak, wearing strength like armor… bleeding underneath it. And somehow, he sees it. Kosh reaches for my hand like it might spook and fly away.
His thumb traces my palm slowly.
Memorizing me.
“You don’t have to be strong in here,” he whispers.
That’s all it takes. The last piece of my defense cracks. I press my forehead into his chest. He smells like cedar and danger… like memories I swore I buried. His arms slide around my waist, grounding me.
“Rhy…” he breathes into my hair.
“You feel like mine.”
Then he kisses me.
Slow.
Deep.
Unhurried.
Like he’s savoring something he’s been craving for years. My body arches toward him like it remembers this language by heart. He kisses me like he’s making a promise.
I kiss him as I might believe it. His hands explore—first careful…then reckless. The couch catches us halfway across the room. We fall into it like we’ve been falling toward each other for years.
Clothes disappear like secrets. Each touch loosens another shred of the old me. Every kiss stitches something new in its place.
And for the first time in weeks…I’m not Mrs. Benyeir.
Not Chauncey’s wife.
Just Rhy. Just a woman being wanted. The city hums quietly beyond the windows. Inside the suite, everything is still. Kosh’s sheets wrap around my legs like white silk vines.
Warm.
Soft.
My pulse finally begins to slow. He lies beside me, one arm behind his head, the other tracing slow circles on my thigh. Gold flashes from his wrist when the streetlights shift. There’s nothing rushed about him now.
Just calm.
Like he’s exactly where he meant to be. And for once… I feel weightless. No eyes watching. No expectations.
Just me.
Just Rhy.
He breaks the silence first.
“Damn,” he murmurs. “I almost forgot how it feels to breathe when you’re in the room.”
I laugh softly.
“You’ve always been too smooth.”
“Nah,” he says with a lazy smile. “Just honest.”
I turn onto my side and study him.
Sharp jaw.
Sleepy eyes.
That damn dimple he tries to hide. Trouble wrapped in tenderness. And it scares me how much I want to stay here.
“This was reckless,” I whisper.
“Maybe.”
He meets my eyes.
“But you needed something real.”
His thumb brushes my cheek.
“And you deserve something soft too.”
Something inside me aches. Because I don’t know if he’s right…or if I just want him to be.
“Tell me the truth,” he murmurs. “Did you think about me?”
I swallow.
“All the time.”
His smile spreads slowly.
“Good.”
He brushes his lips against my temple.
“I thought about you every damn day.”
The words sit heavy between us. Unspoken things floating in the air.
“I missed you.”
He kisses my temple again.
“Sleep,” he whispers.
And for the first time in weeks…I think I actually could.
Morning comes slow and quiet. Sunlight spills through the windows like it’s trying not to wake us. Kosh is still asleep, his arm draped over my waist, breathing deep and steady.
The whole suite smells like him. Cedar. Cologne. Sin. My phone buzzes across the nightstand.
Once.
Twice.
Then nonstop.
I groan, reaching for my phone, and squint at the screen. It’s Bianca.
With Aisha and Amirya on a three-way.
Lord.
I slide quietly out of bed, careful not to wake Kosh. The sheets wrap around me like an alibi as I answer.
“Hello?” My voice is sleep-rough.
Bianca doesn’t even let me breathe. “RHYYY! Bitch, what the fuck did you do?!”
Aisha shrieks through the speaker. “I know damn well that ain’t you in them pictures floating all over my timeline!”
“Oh, it’s me,” I say calmly. “Make no mistake. I knew those raggedy hoes couldn’t wait to post me. The only difference is—I’m not hiding.”
A beat.
“I’m outside.”
Amirya’s voice cuts through the noise, cool and observant.
“Rhy… you didn’t even flinch when the camera flash went off.”
I rub my forehead.
“Nope. And good morning to y’all too.”
“Don’t good-morning me,” Bianca snaps. “You broke the damn internet.”
“It’s not that deep,” I reply. “Chauncey’s been seen with plenty of bitches. The same people laughing then are suddenly gasping now?”
“Rhy,” Aisha groans, “you were grinning like that man paid your light bill and your soul bill.”
“He did,” I say simply. “Every time I fucked him, I gave him something to miss. That’s why he’s in my city right now—not giving a damn about the nigga I’m married to.”
“Who is he?” Amirya presses. “Because that was not Chauncey. That wasn’t even Chauncey-adjacent.”
“Kosh,” I say with a smile.
The line explodes.
“KOSH?!”
“From Texas?!”
“Yes.”
“Rhy, that man is fine!”
“He is, isn’t he?”
“Lord, have mercy on your fucking marriage!”
“We needed the Lord in that marriage years ago.”
Bianca cuts them off sharply. “Do y’all understand the chaos this is about to cause? The streets are in shambles. The group chats are on fire. Simmy is probably pacing holes in the floor right now?—”
“I told y’all,” I say quietly. “Chauncey and I are not together. That was made really clear when I left a year ago.”
“That’s cute,” Amirya replies dryly, “but tell that to the five hoes currently crying on Live.”
I blink.
“Crying?”
“Ugly crying,” Aisha confirms. “One of them said she had to pull over at a red light.”
“Kosh ain’t checking for nobody but me.”
Bianca sighs heavily. “Rhy… I love you.”
“I can’t tell.”
“Girl, you just soft-launched a whole damn disaster.”
I glance back at the bed.
Kosh shifts beneath the sheets, eyes half-open, smirking like he already knows what the internet is saying.
“Aye,” I whisper. “I gotta go. I’ve got a man to tend to.”
I hang up before they can protest. Maybe they’re right. Maybe this is reckless. Maybe it’s dangerous.
But right now?
I don’t give a fuck.
Kosh crooks his finger at me from the bed with that slow, sinful smile.
“Aye, Rhy… come here.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. The world might be burning somewhere below us.
But for a moment—I stop thinking.
He pulls me back into bed, wrapping his arms around my waist, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
“Why’d you sneak out of bed?” he murmurs.
“I didn’t want to wake you… And I didn’t want you hearing me pop off.”
“You good,” he says.
“Thank you.”
“I want a few days of your time,” he continues softly. “No interruptions.”
“Okay.”