So many regrets.
I should never have let myself get so excited after our fantastic first date kiss that I texted all about it to my two best friends. But to be fair, I really had thought Rhys and me were headed somewhere spectacular in bed.
Hell, he’d mauled me in the doorway of my apartment on our second date, when he saw me all dressed up for dinner and a play at the Fox. We’d ended up arriving over twenty minutes late for our reservation at the Grand Tavern by David Burke. I was pretty sure Rhys had to slip the maître d a few bills to get us seated and even more bills to the waiter to put a rush on things, so we’d be out of there in time to catch Cabaret.
Afterward, he’d walked me all the way to my apartment door. Real Gentleman. But there was nothing polite about the way he kissed me. We’d made out so long in the hallway, I could feel him against me, hard and heavy, and totally ready to do something good girls weren’t supposed to on a second date.
But I was okay with not being good. Usually, I made guys wait until at least the fifth date, which meant I ghosted most of them before we could seal the deal.
But after sharing another wonderful dinner filled with banter and droll laughter and sitting in a dark theatre for two and a half hours with his hand on my knee, I was more than ready. I didn’t want to make Rhys wait like a good boy. And if that made me a bad girl, I didn’t care.
“Let’s take this inside,” I’d suggested when we finally came up for air.
Only to have him pull back and answer, “Not yet, love.”
Not yet…I’d been so ready, so turned on I could barely process his words. But yes, that’s what he’d said. Not yet.
“Do you have tomorrow free?” he asked. “We could go see Logan. I hear dark Wolverine is quite good.”
“As good as dark Batman, dark Daredevil, and dark Avenger squad?” I’d asked, grudgingly coming out of my rejection sulk.
A smile tugged at his lips. “Even better.”
“I dunno, Iron Fist still has me in my feelings. Such a disappointment.”
“Please, Cynda will you come out with me? I promise not to disappoint you.” He dipped his head to hit me with a pleading look. Like he really did want to see me again. Bad. And as cool and sarcastic as I was trying to be, it felt like my heart was doing back handsprings in my chest.
I’d given in, and he’d kissed me on the cheek before saying a quiet good night and disappearing down the hall as he pulled out his phone to order an Uber.
Okay, I could live with not yet, I’d decided. Yes, I’d been revved up and ready to go but I’d been doing pretty okay with my vibrator before The Fine Prince came along. What was one more night?
Except it hadn’t been one more night. Our shift schedules had synced up weirdly often and whenever we both had a night off, he asked me out. On the third date, he had his hand all the way up underneath my sweater before he said not yet. On the fourth date, we’d been grinding on each other like teenagers against the wall next to my door. I’d been this close to coming when he pulled the brakes with another not yet.
Surely on the fifth date, I’d told myself. But nope.
Another not yet. In fact, he’d dropped me off at the door of my building instead of walking me upstairs.
“I prefer to be a gentleman, and I know I won’t be able to if I escort you up to your flat.”
“I’m okay with that,” I’d assured him. “More than okay. I would have been okay with it three dates back. Please, come upstairs.”
His eyes had heated at my invitation, but then he’d took a step back and said, “Not yet.”
Sigh.
We also hadn’t consummated anything on the sixth date. Or the seventh. If anything, we’d kissed less. He’d begun greeting me with pecks instead of full kisses. And on the sixth and seventh dates, he’d kissed me on the cheek when we parted.
If not for the constant stream of texts he’d been sending me throughout the day and the fact that he’d invited me out for breakfast, lunch, or dinner literally whenever we both had the time, I’d think we were cooling off.
“It sounds like a Victorian romance novel. Tense and really slow,” Billie said when I was done with my sad tale.
“I know, right?” Gina agreed. “But I think I saw an episode of Sex and the City where the exact same thing happened with one of the guys Carrie was dating. Is that the one she ended up with in the end?”
“No,” Billie and I answered in unison.
“I should just dump him, right?” I asked them. “I’m confused and that’s not a good relationship look.”
“Also the end of your month’s coming up,” Gina said under her breath.
“What?” I demanded.
“Nothing!” she answered. “I’m just wondering why you haven’t dumped him yet if you’re so frustrated. I remember that surgeon you let go because he filed his nails in front of you. You’re not exactly patient when it comes to this stuff.”
I paused, not sure how to answer that. Mainly because she was right.
Any other guy who frustrated me this bad would have been ghosted by now. But here I was with plans to meet Rhys the next morning for a full morning date. I’d convinced him to let me give him a driving lesson, and then we were planning to eat at Chase Park Plaza for brunch.
I mean, the food there was delicious. But that’s not enough of an excuse for putting up with his confusing as hell behavior.
“I guess I don’t want to dump him yet,” I realized out loud.
“Ding! Ding! Ding!” Gina exclaimed like we were on a game show. “You like this guy and it’s obvious he likes you—who wouldn’t? If he’s The Fine Prince, you’re The Fairest Princess in the land.”
“Doesn’t fair mean White?” Billie asked, wrinkling her face. Unlike Gina, we’re both darker than a paper bag.
“I don’t know, Billie,” Gina answered, obviously irritated. “I’m just trying to get Cynda not to dump another guy before he’s even had a chance.”
“Seven dates is a lot of chances,” Billie pointed out, as practical as Gina is dreamy.
“You know it is,” I agreed. Then I asked Gina. “Have you ever gone on seven dates with someone who didn’t want to have sex with you?”
“No,” Gina admitted, her voice gloomy. “But he didn’t say he didn’t want to have sex with you. Just not yet.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I don’t care how fine he is or funny he is or how much I like hanging out with him. If he not yets me one more time, I’m done.”
“You might also try having a healthy and open conversation about how the both of you are feeling,” Billie suggested. “I read an interesting article that stated…”
“Bye, Billie,” I said before she could start dropping statistics.
“Hit us up on the group text to let us know how it goes!” Gina called out before I hung up.
“No, don’t, Rhys! Watch out! Watch out! Watch out!”
I nearly lost my coffee and my life when Rhys turned left onto a one-way street going right.
Somehow I held on to both though.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Rhys said, a few minutes and several angry horn blasts from other drivers later when we pulled into a parking lot safe from the oncoming traffic. His expression was half-wry, half-apologetic. Like, he was sorry for nearly crashing my Honda Civic, but really wasn’t this all my fault for letting him drive it in the first place.
I instinctively raised my hand to my neck to measure my pulse rate as I conceded, “I know you told me, and I should have listened. I thought it would be easier. You being a doctor and all.”
“Human anatomy makes sense. The way you’ve constructed your traffic rules does not. It’s all the other way around in England, you know.”
“Yeah, you’ve told me that, like each time you tried to turn into oncoming traffic.”
Rhys glared. “You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m not. I swear I’m not,” I answered, trying but failing to suppress a snicker.
“Yes, you are
, and I’m going to make you pay for that.”
A new tension popped up between us. Electric and crackling.
“Oh yeah, how?” I asked, my voice husky.
“Well first, I’m going to grab you around the neck like this.” He curled his hand around the back of my neck. “Then I’m going to apply a very forceful pressure.”
Doing just that he pulled me closer until our lips were almost touching but not quite.
“Now what?” I asked, my heart beating hopeful.
He pushed his lips into mine, invading and taking at the same time. As usual the fire was instantaneous. Hot desire licked through my body.
I didn’t just kiss him back, I pressed my whole body into his, wanting more, demanding more. Needing more.
This was why I’d continued dating him for over a month, I realized as we kissed.
No, we weren’t on the same page sexually, but our chemistry was off the charts.
And the truth was that if he told me this car was where First Sex was finally going to go down, right here in the alley where anybody, including a policeman, could walk by and see, I wasn’t sure my answer would be no.
Not sure at all.
But then he broke off the kiss and expelled a long breath. “Right then, I’ll let you drive to brunch.”
And he didn’t give me a chance to answer before climbing out of the car to go around.
My whole body crumpled over for a few moments, completely deflated. But really, I had nobody to blame but myself. I’d been letting him not yet me for over a month. Now here I was again, frustrated as a big dog after trying to teach this ridiculously hot fool how to drive.
I heaved myself out of the car with a sigh and crossed in front of the hood as Rhys went around the back.
“Right, now that the question of teaching me to drive is settled, why don’t we turn our minds to eating,” he suggested as he slipped back into the passenger seat. “It’s too early for our original reservation, but there’s a little French restaurant called Brassiere by Niche just a few blocks down from my flat. They might not be too busy to let us in.”
Without answering I reverse out of the alley and easily blend into traffic, this time going the right way. A few minutes later we stop in front of the luxury apartment with views of Forest Park on one side and the rest of the Central West End on the other. Unlike my typical four-story brick apartment in the Grove, Rhys’s building is sleek and so high, I can’t see the top of it from inside the car. I had come to know the sight of it well after picking him up and dropping him off for a few of our dates. But he’d never invited me up to see where he lived.
“No, love, the restaurant is a few blocks down,” he said when I put the car into park. “This is my flat.”
I killed the engine and answered, “Get out.”
“So you prefer to walk?” he asked into my resentful silence.
“Get out,” I repeated, staring straight ahead.
“What about brunch?” he asked. “I was rather looking forward to that.”
“No brunch. The only thing I’m serving up is a huge ol’ plate of we’re done here. So please get out of my car.”
Rhys didn’t move. “Is this about the kiss in the alley?”
“No, it’s about all the kisses, Dr. Prince,” I answered, throwing up my hands. “It’s about all the things we haven’t done because you’re too busy playing mind games with me.”
“I’m not…” He let out a harsh breath. “I’m not playing mind games with you.”
“Then why won’t you just fuck me already?” I asked, nearly yelling.
“Because I want you to understand,” he answered, his voice almost as angry as mine.
“Understand what?” I demanded.
“That you like me. Even without the sex. The sex will make it even more wonderful. The things I want to do to you, Cynda.”
He raised a hand, stretching it toward me, but then yanked it back at the last moment. “But I can’t…I can’t have you ghosting me because you don’t like my flat or my subscription to The Economist.”
“You read The Economist?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s a credible, balanced, and intelligent source of news. Especially in comparison to the reality show you Americans call broadcast—no, no,” he cut off his explanation with a resolute shake of his head. “I will not let you pull me into yet another amusing but otherwise trivial aside. My point is, I don’t want to be another fellow on your list.”
“Why not?” I asked. “If I call it, you’ve got like half the nursing staff waiting for the rebound.”
“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But I like you. I enjoy your company and I would very much like to continue seeing you. However, I wasn’t sure that would happen without the anticipation of sex. You do have a reputation among my colleagues for being lovely and charming…until you decide the fellow isn’t worth it.”
Everything he’s saying is technically true. I competed in beauty pageants all my life and my mom raised me to be what she referred to as all woman: beautiful and fun and charming when I wanted to be. And the opposite of all those things when I was done.
But this didn’t feel like truth. It felt like an insult. “So you’re judging me for having standards?” I asked him. “For being picky about who I see?”
“The thing is, I don’t believe you are picky,” he answered quietly. “I think you’re scared. Scared of getting close. Scared of intimacy.”
“So now you’re trying to analyze me? Get in my head?” For reasons I can’t fully explain, my voice sounds desperate and my chest is tight with dread.
“No, Cynda, I’m not trying to analyze you. I’m trying to figure out how to keep you,” he suddenly roared, surprising us both.
But before I can read him for yelling at me, he raises a hand and says, “I’m sorry for shouting. It’s just that I like you. A lot. I can’t stop thinking about you, if we’re telling the truth. And as I said, I don’t want to be the bloke you ghosted for some silly reason that can really be summed up as fear.”
“Or dislike!” I pointed out.
Rhys folded his lips. And there came a few frustrated beats before he asked, “Then why are you trying to get rid of me now?”
Why?
Why?
There was the answer I wanted to give. I don’t do boyfriends. I’m a rolling stone. Don’t try to hold on to me because I’m sand through your fingers. Cynda—not Cinderella. Because when I leave, I stay gone. Fuck you and that glass slipper you’re trying to put on my foot.
But suddenly, my mouth just took over. Performing the steps. Doing what it took to resuscitate our dying relationship.
“My mom died,” I confessed, looking down at the steering wheel. “She died right before the Queen America pageant. And my dad got remarried too soon afterward to this woman who isn’t remotely my mom and isn’t right for him. So what did that say about their marriage? Like, did he even love her as much as I thought he did, or would just anybody have done?”
I released a harsh breath. “Anyway, ever since he remarried, I’ve been I don’t know…cold. Like I don’t have relationships, I watch them play out.”
I breathed out, then in, then out again. Then I did what I’d never done with a guy since my mother died. I changed my mind.
I turned to face him still taking long breaths out and quick breaths in. Maybe that’s why I felt like I was fixed to faint as I said, “But I like you, too, at least for now. And that’s probably only going to last for an itty-bitty while—the truth is, I don’t really do boyfriends. But I do…I do like you. And that scares the shit out of me.”
We stared at each other in the aftermath of my outburst. Both of us stunned.
“So you like me too,” he repeated. A slow grin spread across his face as if that thing I said about liking him was the only part of my confession he’d heard.
And of course, I answered like any self-respecting Black girl from Missouri would. “I mean, you all right.”
“Cynda?” he
said, his voice low and somber.
“What?” I asked back, my voice harsh and snide.
“Will you do me the honor of coming upstairs to my apartment? There’s something I’d like to show you there. It’s long and hard and dying to get inside of you.”
I stared at him, unable to believe his gall.
Then I let loose a smile anyway.
Because yeah…it was so on.
A few short minutes later we burst through the door of his studio apartment kissing. It was really nice by the way. Large and high up with a view overlooking Forest Park. The spacious, open concept layout made it feel more like a loft than a studio. And the furniture was spare but super modern and well made. No Ikea for The Fine Prince.
But these were all details I would clock later. My first sight of his apartment was a total blur on the way to the bed. We were so hot for each other that clothes went flying between kisses and we were both naked by the time my back hit the mattress.
And though I appreciated him reaching down for a little prime work after he got the condom on, I impatiently pushed his hand away from my core. “No foreplay. I’m ready.”
I’d been waiting so long, I was already plenty wet. And then he did that thing where he braces his hand on the bed’s backboard at the same time he thrust into me….
“Oh fuck!” I groaned, in that way women do, when the D turns out to be a long, thick surprise.
Then I got an even bigger surprise when he started taking me with rough, possessive strokes. As it turned out Rhys was a prince in the streets and a beast in the sheets. And the way he fucked left no room for anything but complete submission.
I was happy to succumb. Happy to receive his savage kisses as he pushed into me. Happy to wrap both my legs and arms around him when he dropped down and started claiming me even harder.
I would like to say I gave as good as I got. But the truth was I almost immediately lost all sense of orientation. There was no chance to be the hot nurse in bed with Rhys. No pulling out the tried and true moves or the husky, “You like that?” I gave guys when I could see they were clearly enjoying what I was doing.
No, sex with Rhys didn’t allow for sensual bon mots or even much breathing.
Cynda and the City Doctor: 50 Loving States, Missouri (QUARANTALES Book 1) Page 5
