10
It was only when I decided I was going to plan our next date that I realised what Uzezi had meant when he’d said he wanted what I wanted.
All the ideas I came up with that I thought he’d enjoy were things I coincidentally wanted and knew I’d also enjoy.
When he’d said he wanted to wine and dine and seduce me—the word still made me blush, despite myself—he’d genuinely been stating his desires, not just what he thought I wanted to hear.
With the shoe now on the other foot, I completely understood.
I was over at the guys’, a few minutes before Uzezi and I had to leave.
We were in the tiny kitchen pre-drinking, even though we weren’t going partying; I just thought the activity I had planned would be so much more fun with us a little ...
loosened up. Prince and Dayo were in the sitting room arguing over what might’ve been a video game; I couldn’t be bothered to pay attention.
I pretended not to notice the way Uzezi was staring at me.
God, having him look at me like that was such a rush.
I was resting against the only free counter in the kitchen, which meant, from this angle, I wouldn’t be seen from the sitting room.
But Uzezi, resting opposite me against the fridge, was in clear view of his housemates.
He was being so obvious. But I didn’t want to tell him to stop. Instead, I peered at him from underneath my lashes, licking the seam of my lips before I took another sip from my drink.
We’d had Studio earlier today, and to absolutely no one’s surprise, Bonnie and Harper, our tutors, decided to spring a surprise mini presentation on us.
And, also to absolutely no one’s surprise, I’d done terribly.
But after my talk with Uzezi yesterday, I hadn’t felt as awful as I usually did after I bombed a presentation.
And, even though it had apparently still been too stiff, too impassioned, and too brief, Bonnie had given me an actual compliment during our one-on-one session, saying that, although there wasn’t much to compare it to, that was probably the best presentation I’d ever given in my entire history at Architecture School.
The compliment had, not for the first time, had me doubting my doubts, so to speak.
Whenever I got yet another first, whenever I was praised on my meticulous portfolios, my unique and detailed designs, my aesthetically beautiful presentation sheets, along with the thorough research I put to my Tech and Humanities assignments, I began to question my discontent.
Did it really have anything to do with the degree itself?
Or was I simply being a scaredy-cat about the future, and this was the only reason I could think up for why I felt that way?
Don’t do that, I could imagine Uzezi saying. You’ve given this proper thought, haven’t you? Don’t go doubting your own gut, now.
I bit back a smile at the inner voice. I didn’t know what I was going to do.
Did I decide to quit this path that had been carefully planned out for me—to only stick it out until I graduated, then tell my father all the money he spent and stress he’d gone through was all for nothing?
Did I brainstorm some new career choices with Uzezi so I at least had a plan before then so my father wouldn’t be too upset, probably thinking I was planning on doing nothing with the rest of my life?
Or should I just stick to the entire seven-to-ten-year plan because what else was I going to do?
I mean, once I became an architect, as long as I was making enough money, I could manage, right?
Our parents’ firm was pretty successful back home; most of the jobs our fathers took on were government jobs, and the government didn’t pay chicken change.
Earning that kind of money would surely offset the discontent?
Surely, it’d inspire some kind of passion for the work itself, right?
It should at least inspire excitement for the next big paycheck, an excitement that would just have to be enough for me to be able to do it for the rest of my life.
No. Fuck. That sounded like a fucking nightmare. And I didn’t want to have that kind of relationship with money.
Uzezi snapped his fingers, thankfully bringing me out of my thoughts. “Bowling.”
My lips quirked. “No.”
His eyes narrowed. “Karaoke.”
“No. Stop guessing. You’re not going to guess.”
He eyed my outfit again, his gaze searing.
Fucking hell. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a wraparound dress with long, fitted sleeves and a low V-neck, exposing some ample cleavage.
The flowery pink and blue print matched my hair and new pale pink nails, my feet in short-heeled, black ankle boots.
The dress was cinched at my waist with a skirt that was supposed to be loose but clung to my generous hips and thighs like a second skin, the short train at the back stopping just below the back of my knees.
And where the wraparound of the skirt overlapped in the front, because of my thick frame, there was a ...
slit. A thigh-high slit. Just like the dress I’d worn on our last date.
Uzezi’s eyes bounced from my exposed thigh to my generous tits, to my face and hair, which I wore in a practical bun, then back down my body with lustful appreciation.
After telling him the dress code and that I would be wearing pink, Uzezi was wearing a simple, pale pink t-shirt that hugged every curve of his thick, powerful frame, the short sleeves practically straining against his big arms. His jeans, which were probably supposed to be loose-fitting, clung to his big thighs instead.
Christ, why was he so fucking hot? How was he so fucking hot?
His hair—which had previously been cut in a fade—was growing out, his beard full and lush, framing full, pale pink lips that I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing.
We hadn’t kissed since Saturday—since our last date. My lips—what felt like every inch of me—felt almost parched for his touch. His sensual touch. We touched all the time, even before we’d started this ... thing, but not like that. Not the way I now wanted and craved.
I couldn’t wait until the end of our date. I couldn’t wait until I could kiss him again. I practically wanted to climb him like a tree, and we hadn’t even gone out yet.
Uzezi’s lips parted. I held a hand up. “You’re not going to guess,” I repeated with a laugh. “And, as a matter of fact, I’m not going to let you. Don’t ruin the surprise, Uzi.”
He sighed dramatically. “Fine.”
My phone buzzed. “That must be the Uber,” I said, fumbling to bring my phone out of my handheld purse to confirm. “Yup,” I said, quickly finishing the rest of my drink in a big gulp. Uzezi took my cue, finishing his, too. My heart began to pound, though I tried not to show it on the outside.
“Shall we?” I said, nodding toward the door.
“We shall,” he responded, hooking his elbow casually around mine. “We’re off, guys,” he said as we walked through the sitting room to the front hallway.
“There’s going to be a house party at Felicia’s at ten tonight, by the way,” Prince called out. “If you guys finish your thing early, the rest of us are going to be there.”
“Oh.” I glanced at Uzezi, my heart pounding harder. That’d been one thing I hadn’t been able to plan for; it’d seem really fucking suspicious to ask our fellow housemates to give us some space after our “friend” date, so I’d just hoped me and Uzezi could be quiet when we got back.
And even though the thought of it had sent a wanton thrill of excitement rushing through my lower belly, having no one home was infinitely preferable.
I didn’t want to worry about anything else but what I wanted to do to Uzezi—and what he might want to do to me—after the date was over and we were saying our goodnights.
In fact, if I got this seduction thing right, this night was hopefully going to end up in an “explosion”, to use Uzezi’s phrasing.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Uzezi said, tugging on my arm. “See you later. And if we end up not making it to the party, have fun!”
“You both have fun, too,” Prince replied.
Uzezi grabbed his leather jacket, which was waiting on a hook in the small entrance hallway by the front door.
Something about the easy movement of him sliding his arms into the sleeves seemed so fucking sexy all of a sudden.
I made a small, hungry noise I thought he hadn’t heard, but when he glanced my way, he was smirking, one eyebrow ticked up. I pretended not to notice.
Outside, I confirmed from the license plate that the car parked out front was indeed our Uber, then rushed to pull the door open for him.
His grin was automatic, wide and pleased, and only slightly amused.
“What?” I said playfully as I took his hand to help him inside.
“Nothing,” he said, his lips still curved with silent laughter.
I hurried to the other side. His eyes immediately landed on my exposed thighs as I slid into the car. The slit in my dress had fallen even wider open as I’d sat, revealing my legs almost all the way up to my panties. I felt his gaze like a caress, helplessly repressing a shiver.
“All right?” the driver greeted. I’d texted him about our location being a surprise, so he didn’t confirm it out loud. Thank you, Kolapo.
“Yes, thank you,” I replied, and we began to move.
I glanced at Uzezi, suppressing another shiver at the sight of his dark, dark eyes.
If I’d thought his gaze had been searing back in the house, it was practically a brand on my skin now.
I’d thought he was being obvious, but he’d actually been holding back.
This fucking man. Jesus.
“Sorry this isn’t as fancy as a limo,” I said with a carefully careless shrug.
Uzezi saw right through that, of course. “You trying to show me up?”
“Shouldn’t I be?” I tried for playful, but knew I missed it by a mile.