by Mignon Mykel
“No problem? You happen to look in the mirror yet, though?”
“Nah, but I feel fine, and they told me all is well. I’m not too worried about it.”
Her eyes travel over my face, down to my chest to where my hand is curled in a fist, zeroing in on my cut-up knuckles. I attempt to turn them away from her, not wanting her to worry about me but rather focus on herself.
“How’s your knee doing? Need any help, you know, getting to wherever you were going?”
She bites down on the corner of her lip, weighing her options with considerate thought, before responding with, “I think I can get around okay, although, I wouldn’t mind you walking with me. You know, for moral support.”
She fights back a smile as the paramedic tosses the remaining supplies into his bag.
He coughs slightly, muttering, “Do it.”
I glance over at him before looking back at her. A knowing smirk lines her eyes as she shrugs as if saying, “Well, are you going to listen to him?”
“You didn’t have to ask.”
The medic chuckles, lifting his bag off the ground and says, “Good, because if you weren’t going to take her up on it, I sure as hell was.”
He turns his attention back to her to give some instructions. “Now, just take it easy. If you experience any swelling, elevate it with some ice. It’ll be tender for a few days, but you’ll be back to normal in no time at all, I’m sure.”
She smiles, her eyes flashing to me, before thanking him. They clear out the lobby area, leaving us alone for the first time since we met.
Refocusing my attention to her, I hold my hand out to help her stand again.
“You know, we didn’t even get to introduce ourselves properly. I’m Colson.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Sydney.” She gives me an impish grin.
“Sydney,” I repeat, letting her name roll off my tongue. I like it; it suits her. “Nice to meet you, Sydney.”
“Thank you for walking me up to my place.”
“You know, it’s not very safe to offer a stranger the opportunity to walk you to your door.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call you a stranger. You did just practically save my life.”
She smiles at me as I hold my arm out to her. Without hesitation, she loops her arm through mine, using me as a crutch to help her. Her other hand grips the strap of her purse, where the other end dangles from the side, the leather end frayed from where it was ripped.
It takes a little time, but we make it to the elevator.
“What floor are you on?”
“Fourteen.”
“Same here.” I grin as she leans against the railing opposite me as I push the button for the fourteenth floor and wait as the doors close behind us. The moment they shut, it’s as if all the oxygen is sucked from the small space, and I’m left with nowhere to go, nowhere to turn. The slight smirk lining her lips has me rooted in place.
I’m not sure what type of woman I expected Sydney to be, I guess I’d need more time with her to truly be the judge of it, but I half expected her to avoid my gaze the entire ride up to our floor.
That’s not what I got, though. She used every second of time that ticked by to let her eyes drink me in, and I loved watching her get her fill.
Her beauty, her confidence, even with her broken purse sitting at her feet, her mascara smeared from her tears, her hair a little disheveled, she doesn’t hold back.
She doesn’t even try to disguise her thoughts or feelings, and there’s something incredibly sexy about a woman this confident and sure of herself.
When we reach our floor, the elevator dings, and we step out into the small lobby area. I hold the door open for her as she collects her purse and limps out.
“Which apartment is yours?” I ask.
“1B.”
“You’re not too far from me.” She smiles sheepishly. “I’m new to the building, well, Miami, too. I’m in 4B, just at the end of the hall.”
All of the apartments ending in B are down our hallway, which means she’s just a few doors down from where I am. By the looks of it, I’ll be making many trips past her place, seeing as I’ll have to pass by her apartment to get to mine.
She slips the key into her lock and pushes the door open, taking her heels from me, dropping them inside her doorway.
Standing in the hall, she peers up at me, and a weird feeling comes over me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this feels like the end of a date, only we hardly got any time together, and I still don’t want it to end.
“If you need anything, well, you know where to find me now. If you have a cat that needs saving, any fires to put out,” I mutter, clearing my throat when I realize how that actually sounds coming out of my mouth.
Why don’t you just come right out and say, I’ll come rescue your pussy cat and put out the fire for you, I think to myself.
Insert foot into mouth.
She clearly picks up on where my mind went with that comment, chuckling lightly and shaking her head.
“You’re a real superhero. You know that?”
“I guess I am.” I laugh. When I throw in the wink at the end, she covers her mouth to hide her smile, threatening to split her face in two.
“I owe you one. Once I’m all healed, and we’re both feeling better, how about we do dinner or drinks?”
“Deal.”
“Great. Have a good night, Batman!”
She takes the last step into her apartment before flashing me a small wave.
“To the Batmobile!” I shout playfully.
I can hear her laughing as the door springs shut behind her.
2
Sydney
Gripping the bottle of wine and the bag of takeout in my hand, I let out a deep breath reaching my fist out to knock on the door.
Am I really making the first move right now?
I am. What the hell is wrong with me?
Before I have a chance to flee down the hall, the lock on the door clicks, and the door swings open. I’m face-to-face with those dimples and that cheeky smirk, and I’m left wondering why I was questioning this decision to begin with.
“Sydney.” He grins.
“Colson.” I have to bite down on my lower lip to prevent my smile from splitting my face in half. What is it about him that sends my mind and my nerves into a frenzy?
Holding up the bottle of wine, I manage to regain some sense of composure and spit out the words I was meaning to say that brought me to his door.
“I know you just flew in, and it’s been a crazy day, but I was hoping I could thank you with dinner. Chinese. Wine. You in?”
“Did you just say Chinese?” His mouth falls open. For a second, I worry he might have a history with Chinese food, swearing it off for the rest of his life, concern etched on my face watching him press his hand against his stomach.
“Yeah, sesame chicken and egg rolls. China House is one of the best restaurants in Miami. You said you were new to the area. You have to try it.”
“Well, I’m not about to say no to a beautiful woman feeding me the best Chinese in Miami.”
He takes a step back, holding the door open for me to pass through. He wasn’t lying when he said he just moved here.
“You’ll have to forgive me for how my place looks right now. It’s a little messy.”
He gives a self-deprecating laugh, reaching his hand up, motioning to the boxes stacked against the wall of the living room. He runs his hand over the back of his neck, causing the muscles in his arm to flex.
“You’re good. I just moved in last week, finally got all my stuff unpacked over the weekend. I’m starting a new job on Monday, so I knew I wouldn’t have the time. Not to mention, I didn’t want to be left without anything to wear.”
Colson’s eyes flash to me, down to my denim shorts and white cotton t-shirt tied at my waist. Something tells me he was picturing what I might look like when I show up to work, or with nothing on at all. His eyes connect with mine, desire flash
ing over his face. We can both feel the heat simmering under the surface.
He clears his throat, changing the subject. “Well, let’s see what we can find to dish up our food.”
Realization hits that both of us were just thinking the same thing as he chuckles, turning his head toward the kitchen.
“Yeah… let’s.”
I didn’t bother with wearing shoes since he lives just a few doors down the hall. My feet pad across the hardwood floors, through the entryway to the bar lining the kitchen.
He comes around the bar, standing next to me with two plates, silverware, and two wine glasses. Immediately, I reach for my wine glass and waste no time to pop the cork, pouring a heavy glass.
“Sorry… I still feel like my nerves are fried from earlier.”
Never mind the fact just being around him erupts butterflies in my stomach and the warm zap through my body when his arm brushes mine is unlike anything I’ve felt in a very long time.
For the last four years, I’ve been laser-focused on my school. Growing up, I had a hard childhood, but it’s why I’ll let nothing or no one hold me back from my end goal. I’d spent most of my teenage years living in a sports family. Basketball had become one of my passions since the very first time my dad brought me with him to practice.
I’ve kept most of my relationships strictly in the friend zone, not wanting to take my eyes off the end goal. I guess I’ve chosen to keep things surface level, not wanting to open up at the risk of getting hurt as I have in the past.
We both take a seat at the bar, dishing out our plates of food. The conversation flows easily. I take in the relaxed smile on Colson’s face, his dark eyelashes and warm caramel eyes flash over at me while he talks about his recent trip back to Colorado to see his family, and we bond over our decision to move to Miami for our careers.
He makes a comment about how it’s been a while since he’s seen the ocean, and I make a mental note to drag him with me down to the beach when things settle down over the next couple weeks.
Colson pours himself a glass of wine, but it isn’t until I reach for the bottle to pour myself a second glass, I notice he still hasn’t touched his. Swirling the wine in my glass, I take a drink, feeling the effects hit me.
“I want to say thank you again for today.” I pause, reaching my hand out to grab onto his forearm. He turns slightly in his seat, enough to face me. “The officer called earlier to follow up and let me know they arrested him. I guess they found a gun on him. Just hearing that, I know things could’ve gone much worse.”
“Whoa, hey.”
Colson must sense the darkness of my thoughts. He reaches for my hand, tightening around his forearm. He gently slips his hand in mine, stepping down from the barstool, pulling me out of my seat with him. Without hesitation or questioning, he wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his warm body.
“Don’t think like that, okay? You can’t let yourself think about the shoulda, coulda, woulda. Alright? What matters is you’re here, you’re okay. We both are.”
The warmth of his body mixed with his clean scent washes over me, helping ease the tension eating away at my nerves.
Who is this man? There’s something so mysterious about him, yet calming at the same time. The way he appeared out of thin air, helping protect me from what happened today. It’s both intoxicating how I feel when I’m near him, yet terrifying at the same time. Now, here I am, in his arms, and there’s not a rational thought in my mind that’s able to convince me this isn’t exactly where I’m supposed to be.
He leans back, gripping my face in both of his hands, turning me toward him.
“I was never going to let anything happen to you.”
My eyes meet his, and we stand in place for God only knows how long. I reach my hand up, grabbing onto his wrist, holding on for dear life.
When his eyes flash to where my hand is now covering his, before looking back to me, I wonder for a second if he feels the pull between us, too. My tongue slips out of my mouth, wetting my lips, capturing his attention.
I keep waiting for the moment when he’ll put us both out of our misery, but as the seconds tick by and the sound of my beating heart vibrates through my ears, I start to question if it’s going to happen at all.
“I have enough wine in me right now, I could make the first move without a second thought, but that would be the second time tonight I was the one to act first.” I breathe harshly.
“Are you going to kiss me or what?”
That smirk is back, nearly taking my breath right out of me just before his lips crash into mine. I know this is what I want, I thought I was ready, but heaven help me. Nothing could’ve prepared me for what it’s like to be kissed by Colson.
He tangles his fingers in my hair, tilting my head back as his tongue traces the edge of my mouth, seeking entry. This is more than just a kiss. He has consumed me.
When our tongues connected, a heavy moan which escaped his mouth spurred me on. Gripping the front of his shirt, I run my palms over his chest, taking in the feel of his washboard abs. As much as I never want to stop kissing him, I know I can’t wait for the chance to feel his skin on mine.
Clenching the material in my hands, I pull back, taking in the desire glossing over his eyes. My fingers skate over the hem of his shirt, helping to shed the offensive material covering his body.
His jaw flexes, whipping his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere near the door.
“Praise Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus,” I whisper to myself, earning me a chuckle.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Now just seemed like a good time to say grace,” I clarify, my eyes dropping to his gym shorts and the not-so-subtle bulge forming before looking back up at him.
He smirks, pulling me back in and kissing me. This time he lets his hands rake down the edge of my hips, grabbing the back of my thighs, lifting me to wrap my legs around his waist.
Circling my arms around his neck, he carries me into the living room.
“Is your knee feeling better?”
“I forgot all about it.” I smile, holding the side of his face, kissing him as he guides us to his couch.
He holds my foot, careful as he takes a seat with me still in his arms. His thoughtfulness makes my heart swoon.
While I adjust my position to straddle him, his fingers glide up my thighs, clutching my hips in his hands.
Reaching for his battered hand, my fingers caress his swollen skin before pressing a soft kiss against his injury. He hisses, his face wincing as his hand clenches mine.
“Are you okay?”
He releases his hold before a smile spreads across his face. “I’m fine, I promise.”
My eyes narrow, smacking him on the shoulder. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m sorry.” He chuckles. “I swear, I’m fine. I couldn’t help myself.”
This time when I kiss his hand, he traces his finger along the curve of my lip before grabbing my head, kissing my mouth. His lips trace a path from my mouth to my neck, brushing over my collarbone.
“So soft,” he murmurs against me, and for a second, I wonder if he meant to speak those words out loud.
With my body flush against his and my arms wrapped around his neck, he moves me to lie on the couch. He leans over me, resuming the path his lips had made down the front of my chest.
His large hand splays over the front of my chest; his fingers brush over my nipple through my shirt. Even wearing a bra, each flick of his finger causes my nipple to bead through the material.
Tightening my legs around his waist, I grind into him, silently begging for him to quit teasing me. My body starts to quiver when his hands touch my bare skin.
He pulls back, watching my reaction as he reaches his hand out, slipping his fingers underneath my bra to rub over my nipples.
“Oh, God,” I moan, lifting my hips toward him. Desire burns low in my belly, aching to be touched where I desperately need him most.
His breath grows
heavy, each thrust of my hips rocking perfectly against where his dick strains against the front of his shorts.
He moves his hand down to the waist of my denim shorts, his fingers brushing along my stomach, as he glances up at me. When our eyes meet, I give him a look I hope begs for him to touch me as he says, “I’m going to give you what you want. Don’t worry.”
Biting his lower lip, he unbuttons my shorts and guides them over my hips, down my legs. I want to ask him about his, but when his fingers are back on me, I’m unable to think straight, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Oh my God, Colson,” I breathe harshly.
He pulls my panties to the side, brushing his finger over my swollen bud before using his other finger to enter me. My legs fall open, giving him better access. I reach my hand out toward him, needing to feel him, too. Slipping my hand beneath the waistband of his shorts, he lets out a deep hiss when my fingers brush over the head of his dick before wrapping around him.
He thrusts toward me, rolling his eyes closed as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of me, lightly teasing my clit. Each move causes my chest to heave, every breath struggling in and out of my body.
It dawns on me for a brief moment how easy it is to get lost in him, forgetting how we only just met a few hours ago, and now here I am hooking up with him on his couch.
“Hey,” he moans, leaning forward to kiss me. “Stay with me.”
He must’ve noticed my mind had drifted away from him. He pulls back long enough to lock eyes with me before kissing me again with more passion and fire than I’ve ever felt in all my life.
All thoughts and fears are pushed out of my mind because, in that very moment, there’s nowhere else I’d want to be.
3
Rush
Stepping off the elevator the next morning, I adjust my gym bag on my shoulder as I stroll through the lobby of the apartment building.
“Good morning, Mr. Rush,” Antonio greets me from behind the desk. His accent is thick, rolling off his tongue.
