Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sin
Ambush
“This is the last time I’m letting you use my car,” I speak into my phone’s speaker and then send the voice note to Adonis.
“You better have put a full tank of gas in my car,” I add.
My phone rings and his name pops up. I answer with an angry swipe of my finger. “Where are you? I’ve been waiting forever,” I snap at him.
“I’m five minutes late, curb princess.”
Confused, I forget I’m annoyed and raise my eyebrow. “What the hell is a curb princess?”
“Someone who acts like having to stand on the curb for a few minutes is the same as being part of a chain gang. AKA, you.”
I try to keep my scowl on but it’s impossible. “Why is that so accurate, though?” I concede with a laugh. “The eleventh commandment is thou shall not keep Sin Sackey waiting.”
“And we love you for it. Don’t change.”
His words are an affirmation I didn’t know I needed. “You people get on my nerves, but you’re not all bad. How long until you get here?”
“Less than ten minutes. Go shopping.”
I turn and scan the shopping strip and start toward the Nordstrom Rack. “Did you pick up the flowers?” I ask.
“Was I supposed to?”
I stop walking and groan. “Yes. Never mind, we can stop on the way home. Just hurry and get here.” I hang up without saying goodbye. That boy is so irritating.
“Sin.” The voice comes from beside me, and in my periphery, I see the figure of a man and scream before I realize that it’s Kwame.
“You almost gave me a heart attack.” I press my palm against my chest and take a deep breath to try and slow my racing heart down. I lean against the storefront window of the Five Below. “What are you doing here?”
He takes a step toward me but doesn’t step into my personal space like he did last time I saw him. “I drove to your parents’ place and Adonis said you’d be here waiting for him so I drove here instead.”
I’m going to kill my brother.
“What’s up?” Even though there’s a flutter of excitement in my chest that he’s here, there’s more trepidation. I wasn’t prepared to talk to him.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m not. I’ve been busy.” I cross my arms.
“Jesus, Sin,” he speaks under his breath through barely moving lips.
His eyes narrow and he closes the distance between us.
I scurry back and away from him but run into the glass-paned storefront.
He places a hand on either side of my head, caging me against the door.
I look back and forth between the barrier of his arms and then up at his face.
“The other night…at my house.” His voice is barely above a whisper but the images his words conjure—of his body, his dick, his face, my name, that groan—make an unholy ruckus that starts in the valley of my thighs and spreads.
I shake my head and say, “I don’t want to talk about the other night.”
“You’re acting like you don’t want to talk to me at all, Arsinoé.
” The furrow between his thick raven brows is so strong, they nearly touch.
My fingertips prickle with the urge to smooth away his frustration the way I have dozens of times before.
But with everything so uncertain, I don’t dare touch him.
I clasp my hands together in front of me. “That’s not true. There just…isn’t much to say,” I lie through my teeth.
His eyebrows shoot up and he takes a small step back. “Oh, really? You don’t have questions?”
Too many to list. “I mean…I guess. But I’m not asking. You have your reasons and they aren’t any of my business. I’m sorry I interrupted. We’re fine.”
“Are you going to pretend you didn’t run when you saw me on Tuesday?” His lips are only a few inches away and my legs are turning into Jell-O.
I close my eyes and count to five, willing my heart to be still before I open them again and meet his probing gaze straight on. “I wasn’t running from you. I was late. Can you please step back?” I ask, my voice clipped.
He rolls his eyes but does what I ask.
Barely.
I can still smell him…subtle, spicy, and safe. Mine.
I wish.
“I came all this way so I could talk to you, Sin.”
“What is there to talk about? I’m sorry I interrupted. I’m sorry I watched.”
I break eye contact and look straight ahead so my eyes are level with his Adam’s apple.
I love his neck. I look down at the ground .
“So you weren’t hurt? Jealous?”
“Of course not.”
He’s silent for a beat, and I look up again to find him watching me with an unreadable expression.
“I swear, it’s all good. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, Kwame. I really, really don’t.” I reiterate, this time holding his gaze.
He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak and then presses his lips together. “How could getting closer ruin it?” He lets out a long breath and swallows hard. “For me, the closer we get, the better it feels.” He steps toward me, and my stomach does a flip.
My phone buzzes with an alert. I glance at my watch and have never been so happy to see my brother’s name in my life. “Adonis is almost here. I have to go.”
“Sin. Come on.” He runs to get in front of me and stops me in my tracks, puts one hand on my shoulder and uses the other to capture my chin and turn my face up to his. His dark brown eyes are so familiar I wish I could stop wondering what’s really behind them.
“Who is she?” I ask and get some satisfaction from his wince.
“It was a hook-up between old friends who were blowing off steam.”
“Then why not me?” The words are out before I even realize I am thinking them. I clamp hand over my mouth and shake my head. “I didn’t mean that.” I close my eyes and wish the ground would swallow me whole.
He crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his head to one side. “No take backs,” he winks.
To my horror, hot tears fall from the corner of my eyes, and a sob escapes my quivering lips before I manage to press them together.
He brushes them away with the pads of his thumbs. “Are you crying?”
“No.” I jerk back from his touch and brush my damp cheeks dry.
His calm demeanor makes me keenly aware of how rattled I am. I feel like I’m standing naked in front of him. Vulnerable and lacking.
“I’m so sorry you saw that.”
My eyes snap up to his, blazing with indignation and ready to tell him to take his respect and shove it, but I can see the turmoil in his eyes, and even in the grips of my humiliation, I’m very aware that this entire thing was self-inflicted.
Why didn’t you stop when you saw me? I want to ask him so badly.
But that would leave room for him to ask why I didn’t walk away. I can’t answer him…because I honestly don’t know. “Why are you here now?”
His expression softens and he takes a step toward me. I should take a step back, but I don’t. “The same reason I come to your parents’ every Sunday.”
“For my mom’s jollof?” I peer up at him, perplexed.
“No, you, blind woman.” He chuckles and shakes his head.
The creases at the corners of his eyes make my stupid heart flutter and I wish we could go back to the space in time where the only thing we did together was laugh.
“I’d hoped it was obvious, but now that I’ve made such a mess of things I realize I should have just said it aloud.
I come for you. I’m here now, for you.” He’s closed the space between us and his breath tickles my eyelashes when he speaks.
I’m not slow, but the implication in his words doesn’t compute. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
Butterflies I haven’t felt in years burst to life inside me and warmth fills the places that only moments ago felt cold.
“Really?”
He cups my face in his warm, soft hands. “Really.”
It feels so good I can’t stop the moan that spills from deep in my soul.
I have so many questions to ask him, but I can’t remember a single one because his skin against mine feels like the answer to everything.
I nuzzle my face into his palm and let my eyes flutter closed. I can smell cognac and woodsmoke, and I lick my lips anticipating the press of his.
His hand slips around my waist and he draws me to him. “No relationship has ever been so easy as the one I have with you,” he murmurs and a shiver of anticipation runs through me.
He turns his eyes up and looks at me with an imploring expression. “I just don’t want to lose this family. Or you.”
“That’s not how family works, Kwame. You can’t lose what’s a part of you.
Over these last few months, that’s what you’ve become—part of us.
None of us know every single thing about each other.
So, unless you’re going to tell me you’re a nazi or serial killer, it’s all good.
” On impulse I lean up and wrap him in a hug.
He hugs me back and rests his cheek on top of my head. “Great. Thank you. I’m so glad you’re not mad at me anymore.”
I scoff, pull away, and cross my arms over my chest. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m still reeling from seeing you get your dick sucked.”
He groans and looks heavenward. “It was nothing.”
My incredulous bark of laughter is humorless. “Imagine you’d walked in on me with a man on his knees between my legs and then tell me again how it’s nothing.”
His eyes close for a second and his lips press together in a grimace. “Take all the time you need.”
I nod, relieved that this conversation is over. “Thank you. You’re coming for lunch tomorrow, right?”
“No. That’s why I came by today. I have plans. Long-standing commitment.”
“Seeing your secret family, are you?” I quip.
He groans. “Sin. It’s nothing like that.”
He looks so sad that I regret my terrible attempt at levity. “I’m just busting your chops, Kwame. I’m sorry.”
He waves away a bee that zips past us. “I deserve it, I guess. As long as you’re not running from me when you see me, I can handle anything.”
I flush at his reference to the morning in Farragut North. “I was really late. Your timing was terrible.”
“I’m working on that,” he says with a smile that reaches his eyes.
“Thank you,” I say.
He tilts his head slightly. “For what?”
“You came all this way to make things right.”
He shrugs. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” I confess and his smile deepens.
His big hand spans the small of my back and he yanks me flush against his hard, warm chest. He cups my cheek and tilts my face up to his.
Be still my heart. I’m obsessed with the way his eyes twinkle when he’s happy.
“I’m so glad I found you.” He presses a kiss to my cheek.
And then another.
The warmest, sweetest feeling spreads through my center. I can’t do anything but soak up his touch.
I wish I’d found him sooner.
I want to tell him that.
I start to… but he kisses the corner of my mouth and I forget how to speak.
When his impossibly soft lips make contact with mine, I don’t want to do anything but feel him and savor every second of this.
His lips, which have always been my favorite part of his face, live up to their promise. They're soft, malleable, tender, greedy.
God, what a man.
I sling an arm around his neck, and he cups my ass.
I’m sure I’d float away if he let me go.
He tastes like cognac and smells like the shea butter lotion my mother gifted him.
The squeak of brakes and the crunch of leaves under tires rips a tear into the haze of desire that bewitched me and made me act like a crazy woman.
I break our kiss and let go of his neck.
But he holds fast. “I could kiss you for hours,” he murmurs and presses his mouth to mine again, runs his tongue along my lower lip.
It takes herculean strength to tear my lips away from his. I tug his hands from around me and take a step back.
He grabs me by the waist and drags me back to him.
“Kwame!” I gasp and then laugh, leaning away from his descending mouth, I pull free again.
“We’re in public.” I admonish but bite my lip to hide my smile.
“I don’t care.” He shrugs his eyes heavy and focused on my mouth. “Get over here, girl.”
Thank God for discipline because it’s the only thing stopping me from obeying. “Well, I care. And we shouldn’t be kissing.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Yes. We absolutely should.”
“No. We’ve got unfinished business and we shouldn’t let our physical attraction cloud our judgment. You know…walk before we try to run.”
He opens his mouth, seems to think better of whatever he’s about to say and closes it again. “Okay. Fine. So when can I see you, again?”
“Can I have the week? Just to clear my head and some hurdles at work?”
He sighs in resignation but smiles. “Of course, Sin. Take your time.”
“Happy Labor Day, Kwame.”
“Yeah, you too.” His smile gets an A for effort.
“See you next week.” I wave and force myself to walk away.
Thank goodness the days of setting myself on fire to keep everyone else warm are behind me. I’d rather be alone than accept less or settle for less than what I need. But God, I hope Kwame can get his shit together.