Chapter 8 #4
"Just know that you can always talk to me about anything, baby," she assured.
"I'd never treat you like anything less than my partner.
You have all of me, you gotta trust me like I trust you.
I have never held anything back from you," she told him honestly.
"Promise me you'll give me the same respect and consideration as I give you. "
"You got that," Monroe said, snatching his eyes away from her gaze.
Something he'd never done before. It had hurt him to lie to Promise, but the truth scared the shit out of him, and the uncertainty ate him alive. "Let me hop in the shower real quick. Nigga really just wanna be close to you. Is that a'ight?"
Promise nodded, climbing back into his bed, grabbing her journal again.
What the hell is he keeping from me?
That was the next sentence she wrote into her journal.
She hated those words almost as much as she hated the feeling that had inspired them.
The question sat there staring back at her like an accusation she wasn't ready to make.
She hated it. Hated that the thought had even crossed her mind.
Monroe had never given her a reason to doubt him before, which was exactly why this whole situation felt so foreign.
Their relationship had never been built on secrets.
It had never required her to question where she stood in his life or wonder if he was withholding pieces of himself from her.
Monroe had always been transparent, and when he wasn't talking, she could usually read him well enough to understand what was on his mind. This felt different.
Maybe I'm overthinking. Maybe he's telling the truth. Am I letting one bad night make me question everything?
The new sentences she wrote looked better.
Safer to believe, because Monroe had never given her a reason to doubt him in the past. She just couldn’t shake the feeling like something was off.
She went back and forth internally because the same weight she felt the other night when they got into it had come back.
It was like the more she tried to convince herself, the less convincing it sounded.
Something in her soul was warning her, but for the life of her, she couldn't tap into what the hell was going on with her man.
The feeling was foreign, but she dismissed it because she had nothing to support it beyond intuition.
The thing that bothered Promise wasn't necessarily what Monroe had said. It was everything he hadn't.
For the first time since she'd known him, his words and his energy weren't aligned.
Monroe had looked her in her eyes and given her an answer, but his soul hadn't stood behind it.
She'd felt the hesitation. Seen it in the way he avoided holding her gaze for too long.
Heard it in the slight shift in his tone.
They were small things…things most people would've overlooked, but Promise wasn't most people.
She paid attention to the people she loved.
She always had. But, for the first time since Monroe entered her life, she found herself questioning him, and that realization scared her more than anything else.
As Monroe stood beneath the stream of hot water cascading from the showerhead, he welcomed the burn against his skin.
Normally, a shower helped him reset. It gave him a chance to wash away the residue of the day before stepping back into whatever responsibilities waited on the other side of the bathroom door.
Tonight, however, the soap that he'd lathered in his washcloth wasn't strong enough to scrub away the lingering guilt clinging to him after he’d lied to Promise.
It wasn't him...Wasn't them, but this situation had brought feelings to the surface he thought were buried.
And, for the first time in a long time, Monroe felt disconnected from himself, and it bothered him.
Promise had become the one person in the world that could balance him out, and keep him sane at a time losing his shit would be admissible.
She had a way of reaching the parts of him nobody else could touch.
Somehow, whenever life became too loud, she quieted it.
Whenever chaos threatened to consume him, she became his peace.
Yet, he'd miscounted the cost of his deception, when telling the truth was, and would forever be free.
He'd looked directly into her eyes and lied, and the shit was blowing him.
The merging thoughts on how to get ahead of this shit before it blew up had him feeling anxious as he submerged his head under the high-pressure of the shower head.
The water rained over him as he slid his hands down the front of his face.
His mother had betrayed him in ways he still struggled to fully comprehend.
Every revelation felt like another brick being dropped onto his shoulders, and no matter how hard he tried to make sense of it, nothing fit together the way it should.
He was tired, but it wasn’t physical. His soul was overwhelmed, but he got himself together as soap slid off his body and into the drain.
I just need one hour to not think about none of this shit, Monroe thought, stepping out of the shower.
One hour where he could simply just be who he was before black and white turned grey.
He shut the water off and stepped out of the shower.
Steam lingered in the bathroom as he grabbed the towel that hung on a hook across from the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and made his way back into the bedroom.
The moment he walked through the doorway, his entire body relaxed.
Promise was immediately captivated the instant she looked up from her journal.
Monroe was effortlessly sexy as fuck. Everything about him had to be specially handcrafted by the Most High for her personal indulgence, because there was no way she was ever walking away from her blessing.
As she bore into Monroe's eyes, she saw their future, and an eternity that made her forget about all the uncertainty she had entertained just moments before he reentered the room.
One look made her heart remember the safety and protection she always felt in his presence.
This was his favorite version of Promise.
She was Real. Comfortable. Authentic…And she made his chest loosen.
Everything about Promise felt safe. She was everything he needed and more.
He’d never forgive himself if he fumbled her.
He just needed time to be on his side because it wasn’t just himself that needed to be considered.
Promise, on the other hand, didn't care who Monroe was in the streets; who he was when he was with her was all she gave a damn about.
“The hell you over there scribblin’ in that journal?” He asked, giving her his signature smirk.
“Don’t let all that worry you, my man. You got more important things to tend to right now,” Promise said, quickly closing her journal and stood.
She pulled the cover back, and immediately walked into his space. Promise grabbed the towel that hung around his waist, and smoothly dried his body.
Reaching forward, Monroe gently grabbed her hand before she could turn around to get his lounging clothes. Without a word, he slid her cream tank top over her head, releasing her perfect D-cup titties, then moved his hands lower.
“Lay back and feed me my pussy, Doll. I need that shit right now,” Monroe commanded, leading her back to his bed.
Promise’s entire body trembled with anticipation because Monroe’s head game was out of this world, and by the look in his eyes, she could tell he was about to devour her in the best way.
She leaned back, lifting slightly as Monroe gently tugged her spandex shorts over her hips and past her ankles.
Kneeling in front of Promise as she spread her thighs, he took a moment to admire the way her pussy opened up and greeted him.
Her scent was so fucking tantalizing, his dick, and every other sensory nerve ending heightened as he kissed her lower lips.