Chapter 3 #2
“I’m still thinking about him, and I hate his arrogant ass.
He reminds me of Tauren, that manipulative bastard.
” Tauren was my ex, whom I found in bed with another woman in our shared apartment.
He was the reason I’d been apathetic toward love.
Already wary of charismatic and handsome men, I’d let down my guard and fallen in love with a man who only had ill intentions because he saw me as a challenge.
Once he conquered me, he was on to other women.
Saraj’s eyes grew sympathetic. He reached for my hand across the table and squeezed it before snatching my cell. “If you don’t call him, I will. We’re about to blow up, and Emme got a man. She’ll be fine. It’s Canaan Jackson. He’s about to upgrade you exponentially.”
I lunged across the table for my cell, knocking over the rest of my lemon drop martini. “Saraj, you better not call him.”
“I was just playing.” He tossed my cell back and used his napkin to blot the liquor.
“I’m starting to think you’re stalking me.” The rich timbre of his voice coursed through my veins like fire, and I trembled at his nearness. His heat. His masculine scent I could only describe as erotically Canaan.
Saraj looked up first, and the goofiest, giddiest smile slid across his face.
Canaan loomed above me, wearing the hell out of his impeccably tailored gray designer suit.
Genuine warmth and desire shone from his eyes, and before I could return his smile, my gaze skidded and came to a halt on the beautiful woman next to him.
His date scowled and placed a proprietary arm around his waist. Canaan’s face wrinkled in displeasure, and he tilted slightly away from his date.
“Seems like we’re meant to keep bumping into each other for some reason. First Jamaica. Now, here.”
“Appears so.” I gestured to Saraj. “This is Saraj. Saraj, this is Canaan. Someone I once knew in college.” I purposely withheld Saraj and my relationship. Canaan didn’t have to know I wasn’t on a date, and Saraj preferred men.
Saraj gladly offered his hand to a reluctant Canaan. “I follow you and believe this is your year to take it all the way.”
Canaan cracked a small smile. “Thank you for being a fan. I believe it is too.” His jaw tightened as he returned his attention to me. “Good seeing an old college mate again. Take care.”
I only nodded, and Canaan and his date thankfully moved to a table across the room from my view.
“Kensie, that man is freaking hot and only has eyes for you. He didn’t even bother to introduce his date.
” Saraj tilted his head and threatened, “If you don’t call that man, I’ll do it for you and embarrass you.
We need him. The optics of a young, Black billionaire, who’s a top gun on the racetrack, falling for a regular woman is what fairy tales and romances are made of.
Are you freaking kidding me? We are so about to get paid.
” Saraj glanced over Kensie’s shoulder, and his eyes widened. “He’s headed back this way.”
This time, Canaan didn’t acknowledge Saraj and addressed me directly. “I need a moment with you.” He strode away, confident that I would follow.
“Um . . . Think you better go. He’s serious, and I’m so for it. You better take a selfie or something.” Saraj clapped his hands in glee.
As much as I resented Canaan’s implicit and explicit expectation that I do as he bids, I pushed back my chair, threw my napkin on the table, and followed him, wary about entering the lion’s den.
And that I would relish his bite.
I resisted the urge to cross my arms like a petulant child as I walked behind Canaan, who took large, purposeful strides until he reached a guy wearing a suit, probably the manager.
He smiled and whispered something in his ear.
The manager frowned for a second, then guided us past men and women yelling orders and the delicious aroma of grilled steak and sautéed onions into a narrow, quieter, dimly lit hall that led to the back entrance.
He looked at Canaan. “No one uses this hall until the restaurant closes. You have your privacy.” The manager’s eyes twinkled as he nodded at me before returning to the kitchen.
Before I could ask Canaan what he wanted, he cupped the back of my head and swooped down to capture my lips in a stomach-churning, body-aching kiss.
Too stunned to protest, I leaned into him and opened my mouth to his insistent tongue.
His kiss demanded my all, and the raging need for him overwhelmed me.
I slipped my hand between his pants and under his tucked shirt to roam his taut belly, pecs, and then south, over his erection visible through his pants.
My exploration of his body turned Canaan on even more, and he stopped kissing me to ease himself down.
Alarmed, I tried to pull him back up. He only grinned, lifted my right leg on his shoulder, slipped my panties to the side, and licked and nibbled on my button until I clawed his shoulders and bit the inside of my jaw to muffle my moans.
As I slowly returned to reality, he rose above me and kissed me again.
I could taste myself on his lips. I gazed up at him, sure that I appeared to be a lovesick fly caught in his enraptured web.
He didn’t smile. Canaan’s eyes held no humor, only embers.
“When I reach out to a woman, I expect her to call. Now, go back to your date with me on your mind.” He looked down at himself to tuck his shirt and adjust his pants to hide his stiffness before walking away from me.
Realizing the window was closing to ask for his help, I hurriedly said, “Hey, I need a favor for Valentine’s Day.
I know it sounds insane, but can you pretend to be my boyfriend for a little while or take a selfie with me so I can post it on Valentine’s Day?
It’s strictly for promotional purposes only.
Can’t be a love guru without a man, right? ”
Canaan stopped long enough to remind me, “You have my number.”
“Well, he didn’t say no,” I murmured and then collapsed against the wall, wondering if I had the nerve to call him. And how could any woman survive loving a man like him?