Chapter 2 #2
A smile tugged at my lips as visions of our long ass drive from LA to ATL popped into my mind. “Even if I don’t help you drive?”
She rolled her eyes. “I already know you’re not. And I wouldn’t want you to because you can’t drive.”
I gaped. “What? I drive.”
“To the corner market. And only because you don’t want to lug the groceries home on foot.”
“I drive to work,” I argued.
“Because you have a company car and it would look bad if you didn’t.”
“Whatever,” I grumbled. “You love to point out my flaws.”
She shrugged. “That’s what little sisters do.”
“I know you fuckin’ lying.” My parents decided to have back-to-back babies. Me, Zara, and Zeke, all in short order. “You’re only thirteen months younger than me.”
“Still younger, though. That’s what Zeke always told me.”
My stomach sank. It had been years since my brother died and I still missed him every single day. “I wonder what he would say to me right now.”
“I already know. He would tell you to stop obsessing about Rick and pull yourself together.”
The thought of my brother giving me the business for crying over any nigga made me smile. “You’re right. He didn’t believe in giving that type of energy to another person.”
“Maybe I should channel him to get you through this.”
“Don’t try it,” I warned. “I need you to be my sister.”
“I’m always that.”
Sighing, I asked, “When did you get here?”
She glanced at her watch. “About two hours ago.”
“Where are the kids?”
“At home with their daddy.”
Giggling, I said, “I’m surprised he didn’t come with you.”
“He wanted to, but I didn’t trust him not to end up in jail for dragging Rick’s ass across his campaign headquarters desk. It’s already been hard enough convincing him not to call him.”
“That’s why he’s my brother for real.”
“He loves you. We all do.”
“I love you, too.” I sucked in a deep breath. “And I’m gonna get myself together.”
“Maybe you should have sex,” she suggested with a wicked gleam.
“Really?”
“I mean, that’s what you told me. Sex is good for you.”
“That was when I thought I’d seen my last new dick.”
She cracked up. “Girl, you’re silly. Anyway, we’re going to Duke’s wedding. Hook up with a random groomsman.”
My mouth fell open. “Are you crazy? Duke’s groomsmen are all married or soon-to-be married. X is my brother-in-law, Dex has a pregnant wife, and Tristan is with Sasha. The only single one is Asa.”
“True, but if not a groomsman, a friend. Duke knows everybody. I’ll ask X what he thinks.”
“You better not,” I commanded. “It’s not even necessary because I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are,” she said. “I bought your ticket.”
“Zara, why? I’m in no shape to party. Besides, I have that surgery coming up, my job is hounding me for deliverables, I don’t want to answer any questions about Rick. It’s just not a good time.”
“You know you can’t do Duke like that. Or Demi. You already turned her bridesmaid proposal down.”
As much as I hated to admit it, Zara was right. Demi Strong was one of my very best friends. When she lived in Cali full-time, we spent a lot of time together. I was happy that she’d found true love with her friend, my friend, Duke.
“Fine, I’ll go.” I couldn’t not show up for Demi’s big day, especially since she handled my divorce while she was planning the wedding. “But I’m in and out. No rehearsal dinner, no wedding brunch the next day. The wedding and reception are all I can handle right now.”
“Okay, I understand.”
I pointed at her. “And I’m not looking for a hookup either.”
She raised her arms in surrender. “Okay,” she repeated. “No sex for Rissa.” Her stomach growled. “Uh oh.”
I glanced at her curiously. “When is the last time you ate?”
“About two hours ago.”
“You’re so greedy,” I said, shaking my head. “Always hungry.”
“And I would eat if you had any food in the fridge. I already checked.”
“Well, let’s get you fed. I have food at the new place, but let’s have tacos.”
“Yum.”
I grabbed my stuff and followed her to the front door. Turning, I scanned the room again. It felt like a visual representation of my life. Empty and full of hard feelings. And it was high time to leave everything—the past, the future I thought we would have, and Rick—behind.
Present Day
Sinking into the tub, I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of my coconut milk bath.
Being someone who used to prefer showers over baths, I looked forward to a soak every now and then.
Especially after sex with Asa. If I wasn’t confident in my ability to suck a dick, I might’ve been a bit self-conscious.
Asa was young. He still thought all-night sex was a natural activity.
He didn’t worry about muscle pain, stiff legs, and a sore back because he was still in his thirties.
At forty years old, one false move and I could’ve been splayed out on the floor.
It was already bad enough that he liked to twist my body every way but loose.
Missionary? Nah. He wasn’t about that easy sex life.
And I loved it.
Really.
But my body rebelled against me every time. Today, I must’ve strained a hamstring because I couldn’t walk without a limp. Sex wounds had become a normal occurrence. So much so that I’d invested in a jar of Bengay and several boxes of Salonpas pain patches. Because yes, it was that bad.
And I’d thought I was going to teach him a thing or two? Shit, that man had me swinging. Literally. He had mastered that sex swing Paityn developed for her naughty toy line and had me screaming his name until I lost my voice.
Which led me to today.
I’d hurt him. Leaving him like that in the restaurant when Gemma came had shifted things between us.
Right now, I couldn’t say it was a good thing.
Of course, he claimed he was over it. Yes, he’d promptly gifted me with several back-to-back orgasms as he fucked me so long, so good, I forgot to not fall asleep.
Before Rick, I never cared much what a man thought about me. I’d never been shy in the bedroom. I liked to take control, I liked to dominate, and I liked to come. If a man couldn’t handle that, I found someone who could.
With Rick, I never had that problem because eight times out of ten, he made sure I was taken care of sexually. And I convinced myself that it was enough.
But Asa? That lil’ nigga knew how to work that thang. From the beginning, he’d let me know that he was down for whatever. And he wasn’t lying. And I was hooked. Like a backshot fiend looking for her next fix. Legs open whenever he walked into a room.
As a result, I’d asked myself the same question every single time I met him somewhere for a clandestine hookup.
What the fuck am I doing? Because there was no way that this was what I should be doing.
Sexing my best friend’s little brother? The Baby Boy of his family?
Nah. This shouldn’t be a thing. Never a thing.
It was only supposed to be one crazy night. A little orgasm or two to forget my troubles. I had an itch, and he scratched it. All night. Well, technically the whole weekend. Like he promised. I wasn’t supposed to still be sitting on his dick years later. In secret.
Somehow, I’d lost my common sense once he showed me what he was working with, and now I was obsessed. With his dick.
I’m lying.
With him.
I figured out the moment it was more than sex for me. The moment his smile made my day.
Last year, on our birthday—we shared the same day—he’d sen a text asking me to go to Oahu with him.
One of his clients was getting married and he needed a plus-one.
Reluctantly, I agreed. I told myself it was because I hadn’t been to Hawaii since Zara and X’s wedding.
But when I saw him at the airport, I knew it was just Asa.
While we were there, I would catch myself smiling for no reason, leaning into him when we walked along the beach, daydreaming about him during the wedding luau.
He spoiled me, too. Massages under the moon, breakfast in bed, little gifts every morning.
Asa was a gentleman in every way. With a voracious appetite for me.
And I latched on to that feeling because it had been so long since I felt cherished, worshipped.
This thing between us started as a fling and morphed into something complicated, something that could blow up in both of our faces. But I wasn’t sure I could walk away at this point.
Even now, I couldn’t stop thinking about his face right before he left to go to the hospital. He was worried. And I was too. Gemma was part of our extended “framily.” I’d known her as long as I’d known him.
In my mind, she would always be the cute, sometimes flaky, sometimes pensive girl who begged me to take her to the movies. But she was his best friend, closer to him than some of his siblings.
The concern in his eyes still haunted me, because he was unflappable. It was a “Young” thing. From Papa Stew down to Asa, they all carried themselves in the same way. They liked their space but showed up for each other.