The Edge of Midnight

by Beverly Jenkins

Myk nodded. “Let me go up and see her a minute, then I’ll be ready to ride.”

  Once he was gone, Drake shook his head. “He is so far gone.”

  Gee agreed. “Tell me about it.”

  Upstairs, Myk’s soft knock on her door brought no response, so he went on in, moving quietly just in case she was already asleep. She wasn’t. The bed was empty. In fact, he didn’t see her anywhere in the shadow-filled room. Then the sound of lapping water floated to his ears. She was in the tub. Closing the door noiselessly, he quietly crossed the carpeted floor to the partially opened door that led to the attached bathroom. He looked in. The sight of her nude and sitting on the edge of the black marble tub dangling her toes in the water made him so hard it became difficult to breathe. Looking his fill, he realized he’d been a fool to turn down her offer back at the center. No brother in his right mind would take cooking over this. If he ever got her in the back of the limo again, all bets were off. Were Drake and Gee right? Was he really falling for a chocolate-nippled beauty with soft brown skin, flaring hips, and a riot of tempting hair between her gorgeous thighs? As he continued to feast his eyes, he couldn’t answer the question, nor did he care that Drake was waiting for him downstairs. All Myk wanted to do was slowly tumble her into the bubble-filled tub and show her his own version of home cooking; take those dark nipples into his mouth and tease them until she moaned for more; much more—part her thighs and…

  He dragged his mind back to saner territory. He had more serious matters to apply his mind to, and Sarita, as luscious as she was, couldn’t be on the list tonight.

  But the male in him refused to walk away, so he stole back over to the bedroom door and pretended to have just entered. “Sarita?” he called out. “Where are you?”

  The sound of Chandler’s voice made Sarita slide quickly into the tub and drop below the fluffy bubbles covering the scented water’s surface. “I’m in the tub, Chandler. Go away.”

  He came on in anyway but stopped near the entrance. “My…” was all he said.

  “Why can’t you ever do what you’re told,” she scolded to hide her reaction to his tone and his eyes.

  After seeing her nude, Myk found the sight of her hiding in the bubbles just as erotic. “I’ll be gone in a minute.”

  The way he was looking her over made Sarita swear the temperature of the water was rising. “Can I help you?”

  He reached behind him and closed the door. “Don’t want you to lose your heat,” he said softly.

  Losing the heat in the room was the least of her problems, Sarita thought to herself while trying to pretend calm. The closer he walked to the tub, the farther down she retreated. When she couldn’t submerge herself any lower, he hunkered down on the edge of the black marble and looked at her across the distance. If only he were old and ugly, she found herself thinking, maybe she could deal with him better.

  “Drake and I are going out. Gee’s going to stay with you until we get back.”

  Up close, Myk could smell the heady scents she’d put in the water. He reached out and lifted a finger full of bubbles, then softly blew the foam in her direction.

  The sensual gesture, coupled with the maleness in his gaze, made Sarita’s throat go dry and her nipples harden.

  “Enjoy your bath,” he whispered. Straightening, he turned and walked out.

  Thirteen

  When Walter McGhee came downstairs the next morning, he found Sarita already up and cooking. The sun was just throwing off the covers, but the kitchen smelled wonderful. “Good morning, my sister.”

  She grinned. “Morning, my brother. Did you spend the night?”

  “Yep, got a space up in the attic Myk lets me call my own when I need it. Hizzoner stayed over, too. What’s cooking?”

  “Breakfast. There’s coffee, biscuits—”

  “Biscuits? From a can right?”

  “No,” she responded in a tone that suggested he should know better. “Biscuits. Scrambled eggs in that bowl over there. Sausage, grits, and bacon.”

  His eyes relayed his excitement. “Can I start?”

  She laughed. “Dig in.”

  “Thank you!” he gushed, and grabbed a plate.

  In the meantime Sarita placed generous portions of everything she’d cooked on a plate, then placed the plate on a tray. She added silverware, a large cup of coffee, and a glass of orange juice.

  When Gee saw the tray’s setup, he asked, “What, you don’t like my company?”

  Sarita was confused.

  “The tray. Are you going to eat somewhere else?”

  Finally understanding, Sarita said, “No, this isn’t for me. It’s Chandler’s.”

  Gee stared. “You’re taking him breakfast on a tray?”

  “I—promised to cook for him.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since none of your business. You just eat. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  As she left the kitchen, she didn’t see Walter’s knowing smile.

  At the foot of the stairs, Sarita realized she had no idea where his room was. She was just about to go back and ask Walter for directions, when she saw the sleepy-looking Drake come to the top of the stairs. He descended saying, “Good morning, lovely sister-in-law. I’m assuming that food is for my dragon brother and not for me.”

  Sarita enjoyed the mayor’s lively humor. “You’re right, but I don’t know where his room is.”

  “Left at the top of the stairs. Follow the hall and take a right. You’ll see the dragons on the doors.”

  “Thanks.”

  Going up, she called back to Drake, “There’s breakfast in the kitchen, or at least there was when Walter started eating.”

  Drake took off at a run.

  Gathering her courage, Sarita knocked on the massive double doors. They were made from a dark, glowing cherrywood, and each section had a large twisting dragon carved into the face.

  She knocked again, harder. Nothing. She debated for a moment as to whether to go on in, then decided, why not. He was always walking in on her; maybe she’d give him a taste of his own medicine. Balancing the tray she turned the polished brass knob and stepped inside.

  Silence reverberated around her. Reaching back she quietly closed the door. It looked to be a sitting room, and it was twice the size of her bedroom on the other side of the house. Floor-to-ceiling drapes ran the length of one wall but were closed against the early-morning light. Small tea candles flickering inside black metal wall sconces gave the room a soft glow. Once her eyes adjusted to the shadows, the oriental theme could be seen in the lush rugs on the polished wood floor, the low-slung, black-lacquered benches upholstered in a fine red velvet, and in the design and colors of the love seats, chests, and chairs positioned about the space.

  Since Sarita had yet to see Chandler or anything resembling a bed, she assumed his bedroom was somewhere close. Common sense and a rapidly beating heart told her to put the tray down and leave, but she couldn’t. The interior drew her as if she’d just entered the den of some mythical beast, and she had to find his lair. With that in mind, she quietly crossed the room and let instinct guide her steps.

  Through a carved archway on the far side of the room, she found the mythical beast awake, fresh from his morning shower, and nude. Sarita whirled around so fast, she almost lost the tray, but her movements weren’t fast enough to stop the image of him muscular, tall, and mahogany beautiful from being seared into her brain. Against the shadows, he’d resembled an African god of the dawn.

  A smiling and yes, delighted Myk tossed aside the towel he’d been using to dry his hair. He didn’t cover himself however. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning. Are you dressed yet?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Will you put something on, please.”

  It was a wail worthy of a romance novel virgin, so Myk, still smiling, reached over and dragged on a black silk robe. “You can turn around now.”

  Sarita did, and was glad to see he hadn’t lied to her. The memory o
f his nakedness hovered on the edges of her consciousness, haunting her. “I—brought you breakfast.”

  “Thanks.” He took the tray from her shaking hands and set it on a low table before the fireplace. Unlike the cold, silent grate in the outer room, this one was aglow with flames.

  The bed dominated the room however. It was a magnificent four-poster made of wood so dark, it glowed black in the firelight. Flowing panels of black silk enclosed the bed. They were tied back, but Sarita could see the dragons embroidered on them in gold and red. The veiling gave the bed a mysterious sensuality that made Sarita imagine what it might be like to lie within all that silk while he made love to her.

  Realizing he was watching her, she forced her attention away from the bed and back to him. “I should get back downstairs.”

  “You aren’t going to join me?” he asked from over by the food.

  “Your brother and Walter are waiting…”

  “They’re big boys. They can take care of themselves for an hour or two.”

  “An hour or two?” Her eyes flew to the bed.

  “Just a figure of speech, relax.”

  Easier said than done. Whether by design or not, his robed manner oozed seduction. The shimmering light from the fireplace and the low glow from the wall sconces above the bed added to the lush exotic atmosphere.

  She watched him remove the tops she’d placed over the dishes to keep them warm.

  “Will you stay?” he asked.

  She wanted to. Trying to ignore his allure was becoming an exercise in futility. “I should get ready to go to the center.”

  “You’ll have time. Have you eaten?”

  The lie almost left her lips, but she forced it back and told the truth, “No, I haven’t.”

  “Good, then come and join me.”

  Sarita knew they were going to share more than the meal; it was in his eyes. The anticipation of the certainty made her nipples tighten and her lips part. “I only brought one plate.”

  “We’ll share. Looks like there’s more than enough food, too.” Smiling inwardly at her hesitant manner, Myk unloaded the bounty from the tray. The piping hot biscuits running with butter made his mouth water. The idea that she’d boldy entered his domain to bring him the food she’d promised made his mouth water for her, too. Finding her standing there when he stepped out of the shower a moment ago had aroused him instantly. He was still thick and hard. “Come sit…”

  She walked over and took a seat beside him on the love seat. She told herself she had no reason to be so nervous, after all, she’d experienced his touch and kisses before, but that was the problem; she knew how magical this man could be.

  “Here…” His voice brought her back to the present and the fork he was directing toward her mouth. She accepted the small sampling of egg and sausage without thought. He slid the implement out very slowly, and while she chewed, his dark eyes glowed with approval. The sensuality of his actions made her heart do flip-flops and the gates to her core swell with awakening desire. He raised the fork to her lips again, tempting her with the well-seasoned grits. When he eased the tines out, she swallowed, then delicately licked the corner of her mouth.

  Myk appeared to be calm and in control, but his manhood knew better. That she’d actually let him feed her this way made his blood roar. To stop himself from easing her back against the love seat and feeding on something more substantial, he reached instead for a biscuit. Breaking it open, he tore away a small portion and held it out. She ate it from his hands, then shocked him by darting her tongue against his finger as she moved back.

  Through the haze of desire, Myk husked out, “You keep that up, and I’ll be sampling more than your biscuits, little girl.” But unable to stop himself, Myk leaned in and kissed her gently, fully. Her eyes closed, and he pressed her deeper into the love seat. He moved a hand to the porcelain-fine curve of her jaw. The skin felt like silk. “Better run before I find out how you taste with jelly….”

  “I dare you…” she challenged huskily, her eyes hot.

  He pulled back for a moment. “Playful, are you?”

  “With the right man,” she whispered in response.

  Myk’s senses flared, and he pulled her onto his lap. He leaned in, and with tiny lazy licks of his tongue seduced the corner of the mouth. “Then come play with me….”

  Small shots of lightning exploded through Sarita’s blood, but before the thunder could subside, he transferred his attention to the other corner of her mouth, making her lips part invitingly.

  “Gorgeous…” She heard him breathe, then he kissed her so masterfully, her whole world reeled.

  Myk fed sweetly, taking his time. With any other woman, he would’ve simply stripped away her black sweat suit and helped himself to the treasure, but Sarita he wanted to unveil slowly, languidly. He wanted to spend days arousing her, days kissing her, and days making her moan.

  Sarita tasted the fullness of his lips, felt the strength of his desire beneath her hips, and wanted him closer. Raising her hand, she gently took hold of the back of his neck, letting him feel her need.

  He eased down the zipper on the jacket of her sweats, then ran his hands over the loose silky camisole she was wearing underneath. He was delighted to find her braless and even more so when her warm breast trembled in his adoring hand. He had just enough light to see her face as his finger played and dallied. He watched her eyes close in response to the slow, deliberate manipulations, then he leaned in to to savor her mouth. As he slid kisses down her throat, he slipped down the top her camisole, then lowered his head and bit each nipple gently, making her suck in a shaky breath, increasing her agitation and elongating the stacked-up sighs of pleasure in her throat.

  Sarita couldn’t have left his lap if she’d wanted to; the feel of his circling tongue, the sweet, wicked sucking of his warm mouth set off a fever in her flesh that burned her everywhere. Because of his expert loving, her nipples were hard and damp, her core hot and alive. She felt ready to burst. For the first time in her life she wanted to bare herself completely and totally for a man so he could teach her every sensual secret there was to know about the heat between a man and a woman.

  The relentless throbbing of Myk’s manhood demanded he take her over to the bed and finish their unfinished business once and for all, but he didn’t want to move. The scents and tastes of her were plunging him into a whirlwind of sensations so powerful his hands were moving over like a man reading Braille. Having her on his lap with her breasts bare and pleading, while his hands slowly mapped the outside curve of her hip, had him sensually rooted to the spot.

  Besides, he reminded himself that he wanted to go slowly. He wanted to relish her, savor her; prolong each and every touch of his lips, every sweep of his hands, every taste of her skin. He felt compelled to memorize the porcelain weight of her breasts, the curve of her jaw, the line of her throat; the way she sighed when he bit her nipples; the smells and heat of her hair. She was like a rare wine or a fine imported cigar. No, he would not rush this. She was too beautiful for this first time to be quick and unmemorable.

  Raising his head, he recaptured her lips, then slipped his tongue into the honeyed cavern. When her tongue met his, he groaned his delight and joined her in a sweet duet. He moved his hand over her sweats-covered thighs, then slowly in between.

  Sarita arched with the pleasure and wantonly parted her legs for more; she had no shame; she was as hot as a teenager in the backseat of a car. He rewarded her by intensifying the delicious touches. She moaned like the celibate woman she was.

  “Let’s take these off…” he whispered in a voice as hot as his exploring hand. He was referring to her sweats. She lifted her hips, and he gently dragged them down and off. The jacket came next.

  Sitting on his lap in nothing but her navy blue bikini and matching camisole, she raised her lips to his and melted into him without a thought, returning his hot kisses, responding to the wanderings of his magical hands, demanding he give her more, and he did. He plied h
er until she melted back against him, her will gone.

  Myk had no idea she’d be so uninhibited, so passionate. His semicelibate wife with her jewel-hard nipples and honey-filled thighs made his need flare like the Fourth of July. Spurred on by the sight of her arched and rising sensually to the melody he was playing at the gates of her soul, he eased the panel of her panties aside and ran his finger over lush wet flesh.

  It was too much for Sarita. She climaxed, screaming his name. She didn’t care if folks heard her downtown; the orgasm was glorious. It buffeted her like a tiny boat tossed about on a stormy sea.

  Then a phone rang; insistent; jarring; interrupting.

  “Dammit!” he growled angrily.

  “Let it ring,” she whispered. Still in the throes of her climax, she kissed him, hoping to distract him so the moment wouldn’t be lost; so they could continue.

  The ringing persisted.

  He sighed and eased back. Lifting her, he gently set her aside. “Don’t move.”

  Sarita sighed with frustration.

  Myk picked up the cellular phone on the stand by the bed, and barked, “What?!”

  Sarita waited, her body pulsing with the desire he’d unleashed. She hoped the caller would be quick.

  Myk looked her way, then covered the phone’s face with his hand. “This shouldn’t be but a minute.”

  Turning back, he spoke into the phone, “Okay. Fax me the drawings. I’ll compare them to what I have on my disk and fax them right back.”

  Still talking, he disappeared through an alcove on the far side of the room, and Sarita was left alone. She gave him ten minutes. When he didn’t return, she pulled on her sweats, zipped the jacket, and left.

  When Myk came downstairs forty-five minutes later, the house was empty. He was mad at Sarita for not waiting; mad at his engineer for a call that could have waited for later, but most of all he was mad at himself for not treating Sarita with more care. The call he’d promised would only take a few minutes had taken almost forty; not a problem for most of the women in his past. They would’ve waited for him to return until hell froze over, but he kept forgetting Sarita was different. He was neither her sun nor her moon; she didn’t care about his money or how important he considered himself to be. She’d come to him offering him nothing but her spirited, beautiful self, and he’d chosen to answer the phone instead.