Chapter 8
eight
BABY, I’M SCARED OF YOU
LARISSA
“How much longer?”
“Ten minutes.” Asa reentered the room, setting the baby monitor on the kitchen counter. He approached me, increasing the speed and the incline on the treadmill.
“Ten?” I gripped the rails as I jogged at a brisk pace. “I thought it was five?”
“Nah, baby.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very. Watch your form. Straighten that back, keep your head up, and pick those feet up.”
I glared at Asa. For the past two weeks, he’d pushed me to the brink of collapsing with my workouts.
He lured me in with a beginner’s walk on the treadmill. Thirty minutes at a steady pace. Then, he added on a strength circuit—two rounds, twenty minutes of torture. By the end of that session, my legs felt like Jell-O. Incline walking nearly took me out, but intervals were the devil.
“This. Is. Some. Bullshit,” I breathed, running for my life. “We should’ve just taken Ezra on a walk at the park.”
He smacked my ass. “And let you take the easy way out?”
I blew out a burst of air. “I’m not a paying client.”
“Oh, you’re going to pay me.”
Smirking, I continued my run. “How many minutes left again?”
“Eight.” He clapped his hands. “Come on, baby. You’re in the home stretch.”
“Oh my God,” I gasped. “You’re killing me.”
“You’re doing good.”
“My leg . . .”
“Push through it,” he said.
One, two, three . . . eight . . . twelve. I kept losing count. What made me think I could count each minute out? I shook my mind free of the shooting pain in my calf.
“I’m telling you,”—I shot him a sideways glance—“I think your watch is broken.”
Ignoring me, he announced, “Six minutes.”
Then that muthafucka increased the incline. Again. “Five percent. Are you crazy?”
“Rissa, you’re doing it. You got this.”
I wanted to believe him. Really, I did. But the way my leg hurt made it nearly impossible. “Don’t you ever let your clients stop early for good behavior?”
“Never.”
Rolling my eyes, I grumbled, “Whatever.”
“Two more rounds,” he informed me, increasing the speed.
“I thought we agreed that I couldn’t die on a treadmill.”
He chuckled. “You’re not going to die, baby.” He reduced the speed to two-point-five miles per hour. “Trust me.”
“I don’t think I do,” I whispered. “My throat hurts.”
“Because you talk too much.”
“When I get done, I’m gonna hurt you.”
“If you can catch me.”
Moaning, I muttered a string of curses when he, yet again, increased my speed. This time to four-point-two miles per hour. “Really?” He put me at a six percent incline. “You’re a demon.”
“Two more minutes.”
“I don’t think I’m going to talk to you for the rest of the day.” I caught him checking my ass out. “Nah, nigga, you ain’t getting that either.”
He slowed me down, then lowered the incline. “You say that now.”
“I mean that shit.”
“We’ll see. Cool down.”
I slowed my pace to an easy walk and eventually stopped.
“Good girl.” He gripped my butt, squeezed the cheek, then smacked it again. “You did it.”
I collapsed on the rubber mat. “Lord, please. I promise I won’t scream your name during sex anymore if you turn my internal temperature down.”
I was on fire, burning up with the heat of a thousand suns. My cute workout pants felt like a noose on my legs. Patting my hair, I cringed at my thick roots. “Dude, I can’t keep sweating my silk press out.”
“You asked me to help you,” he said. He sounded far away, like he was underwater. “I promise you’ll feel differently in one month.”
“I can’t believe you get paid to torture people.”
I heard the ice machine on the refrigerator. “It’s not that bad.”
“To you,” I argued. “You can do this shit in your sleep.”
“I love it.” Footsteps echoed off the tile until they stopped right next to me. “You good?”
Cracking one eye open, I asked, “What do you think?”
He shook the huge bowl of ice in his hand. “Take that shirt off.”
I raised a curious brow. “For what? I told you I’m closed for business.”
“That’s what you think.” He raked his gaze over me, lingering on my face, my lips, my breasts, and my . . . “Take your shirt off,” he repeated, his voice a low growl.
Sitting up, I peeled my shirt off. I couldn’t lie, when I’d bought this pink set, I knew it would elicit this response from him.
The long-sleeved crop top accentuated my breasts and the high-waisted, ruched, shorts sculpted my ass.
Real talk? We almost didn’t make it to the treadmill.
And I wouldn’t have been mad, but then he had to hold me accountable for the pact we made.
“The shorts,” he commanded softly.
Lifting my butt from the floor, I pushed them off.
Silence, then he dropped to his knees, grabbed an ice cube, and trailed it over my nipple.
I hissed, arching my back off the floor. The contrast between my hot body and that cold ice was almost orgasmic. It felt good.
He dragged the ice over my stomach, circling my belly button. As it melted, water drizzled down my skin, sending a delicious heat to my pussy.
“Asa,” I pleaded softly. My body was trembling with need for him, aching for his touch.
Groaning, he sucked the moisture off my stomach. “You still closed for business?” he teased.
As if they had a mind of their own, my legs fell open. I snapped them shut. “Maybe,” I teased.
He smirked, grabbing another piece of ice and gliding it lower, lower, until he reached the apex of my thighs. His free hand swept up my inner thigh, pushing my legs open again.
With his eyes locked on mine, he swiped his fingers over my core. I nearly came undone when he slid a finger over my slit. I sucked in a deep breath and waited for him to make his move.
He raised a brow. “Are you open for me?”
Unable to take it any longer, I nodded. “Only for you.”
“That’s what I thought.”
I wanted his fingers on me, coaxing me to an orgasm, but I got his mouth. His tongue lapped up the remaining water on my sensitive skin and he twisted me around.
The friction of the rubber against my skin stung a little, but I liked it. No, I loved that shit. The perfect mixture of pleasure and pain. But the way his eyes softened whenever they met mine flooded my body with warmth. He still looked at me like I was a goddess, a deity made for him to worship.
It was hot as fuck.
Another piece of ice, another trail of lust left in its wake. By the time he’d drenched me with the last piece, I was teetering on the edge. I thrust upward, signaling that I needed more. I needed him to touch me, to lick me, to kiss me . . . something to ease the ache in my body.
A slow smile spread across his lips. “Say please.”
I whimpered when his knuckles grazed the inside of my thigh, then he slid a finger into my . . . “Oh shit,” I hissed. “Please.”
“Please what?” he taunted.
“Make me come.” My whispered plea must’ve done the trick because he crooked that talented finger upward, hitting me in that spot. An orgasm ripped through me with force, shattering me into tiny little pieces of bliss.
Then his tongue was there, replacing his fingers, driving me to another orgasm. Tears pricked my eyes as I shuddered beneath him, helpless to stop what was happening to my body. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to stop feeling this way.
“Look at me.” He licked the corners of my mouth. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” I whispered. “I just want you.”
He wrapped his hand around my throat, squeezing slightly as he brushed his lips against mine.
With an urgency I had only felt with him, I tugged his shirt off and pushed his shorts down. He kicked them off and eased inside of me.
The slow way he fucked me felt deliberate, intentional.
Like he was communicating something more meaningful.
He’d always been a generous lover, but this was different.
Every touch, every stroke had a purpose.
There was something so perfect, so natural, between us.
Effortless, like we were meant to be this way with each other.
It felt so damn good.
He felt good.
We felt good.
Time stood still as we made love, and the rest of the world faded away. And when we came, we came together.
We lay in silence for a moment, legs entwined, heartbeats in sync, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
“I want to keep you forever,” Asa murmured against my ear.
My heart swelled at his soft admission. But my brain .
. . It battled for control over feelings that had spiraled out of control.
What we had become to each other was beautiful, a soul-deep connection built on respect, intense physical attraction, and genuine friendship.
It was almost transcendent, like we were existing on a different plane, at a different place and time.
It was unspoken. We didn’t need words to explain it.
And it was primal, instinctive in a way that only we understood.
It was also terrifying.
He brushed his lips over my forehead, my eyes, my nose, and finally, my mouth. “Tell me I can keep you.” He stared at me. His gaze seemed to reach beyond my walls to the parts of me that I kept hidden from the world to protect myself. “Tell me you’re mine.”
The urgency in his voice was palpable, sincere. And I tried. I really did try to tell him what he wanted to hear. Because I felt like I was his, I felt like he was mine. Yet, every time I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him how I truly felt, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
A flicker of disappointment crossed his face and I immediately felt him pull away. The sound of a faint cry filtered through the baby monitor.
Asa had managed to get Ezra on a schedule. Feedings, naps, play time . . . He’d even transitioned him from the master bedroom into the second bedroom.
Without another word, Asa stood up, tugged his shorts on, and walked out of the room.
I found them on the plush rug in the baby’s bedroom. Ezra was happily playing with the set of stacking blocks I’d bought him last week and Asa was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.
I joined them, brushing Ezra’s head before I situated myself next to Asa. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for?” he asked.
“For hurting you.”
“You didn’t hurt me.”
“Asa, I—”
“You told me what I needed to hear without saying a word.”
My stomach dropped. “No, that’s not true.”
“Chunk’s paternity has been established. Custody has been settled. It’s time for me to go home.”
Frowning, I sat up. I wouldn’t tell him that he couldn’t go, because I always wanted him to do what he needed to do for himself. For Ezra. “Why now? I thought you liked it here.”
“I need to work.”
“You have clients here,” I said. “You did a training session yesterday.”
“But my life is in Michigan. Gemma’s been gone for three months, and I’ve been slowly putting my life back together, trying to get Ezra to a place of normalcy. You’ve helped me with that, but my parents, my sisters . . . My support is there.”
He was right. Aside from Tyn, everyone he loved lived somewhere else.
Ann Arbor, Atlanta . . . I couldn’t fault him for wanting to be near his family.
Because a few months ago, I’d felt the same way.
Unsettled. Isolated. Alone. Stuck in a place of uncertainty.
Feeling like I wanted something different but not knowing what that something was.
“I thought you loved it here,” I said, in some sort of lame attempt to keep him with me.
“I love you.”
My eyes snapped toward him. “What?”
“Rissa, you have to know how I feel about you, how I’ve always felt.
It started as an innocent crush on my big sister’s best friend.
Then it became a dream deferred, something I never thought would come true, but something I could never let go of.
When I came to your hotel room, that was me touching the sun.
It was only supposed to be a moment in time.
Then, it became more than sex, more than a lil light thang. ”
Unable to help myself, I giggled.
“When Gemma died, as much as I didn’t want it to happen, I expected things to change between us. I’m someone’s daddy now. I’m my son’s world, the only parent he has left. I love you, but I’m not going to chase you. I’m not going to wait around for you to not be scared to love me.”
“Asa, I—”
He trailed a finger over my brow, down my cheek, over my lips.
“I get it. Rick broke your heart. I hate that muthafucka for that. And I love you enough to not hold it against you if you can’t give me what I want.
But this thing we got going on . . .”—He squeezed my hand—“is not enough for me. Not anymore.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ezra standing on wobbly legs. “Oh my God.”
Asa sat up.
I held an arm out, signaling for him to stay still. “Wait . . .”
Ezra took one step, then fell on his little butt.
Watching Asa scoop his son up and lift him over his head, telling Ezra that he was proud of him, I knew that I’d fucked up. But the moment I should’ve told my truth had passed.
“I have to call my mother,” Asa said, carrying Ezra out of the room, leaving me with my own thoughts.
I took a deep breath and fell back on the rug. Asa had placed his heart in my hands. Now, the only question was . . .
Can I hold it close, keep it safe, and give him mine in return?