by Linda Verji
She didn’t even know why she was crying – just that it felt like her heart was an overflowing dam of emotion and Nathan’s finding her in her situation had broken its banks. By the time they got to the apartment, she’d stopped crying but her eyes itched and her face felt swollen. She was sure that she looked a mess.
“Where are your shoes?” Nathan asked once he’d parked the car.
She gestured to the back seat. His smooth scent ruffled the air as he reached towards the back seat. It took him a while but finally he came up with a pair of sandals. He set them on the floor by her feet. While she put them on, he exited the car and strode towards the passenger side and opened the door.
When he held out his hand to help her out of the car, she shook her head. She didn’t want him to touch her because she knew she would break down even more. She’d already made enough of a fool of herself around him. It was only when she stepped out of the car and the cold stung at her thigh reminding her of her torn pants.
She’d never been so thankful to be dark skinned. If it wasn’t for it, Nathan would’ve seen her deep blush as even more embarrassment flushed over her skin. She grasped the torn seam in her fist, her arm bumping against Nathan’s body as they walked into the building. Though he kept close to her, he didn’t touch her. It was only when they stepped into the house that he finally he did.
“Come here.” He tugged her closer.
Her movement forward was reluctant but once her cheek was pressed against his chest and her arms linked around his waist, he felt like home. The tension and emotion she’d been holding in slowly drained and she sagged against him. He didn’t say anything or ask any questions. All he did was hold her in his arms, lending her his strength. His hands soothed over her head, her arms and her spine in comforting strokes.
“Wrap your arms around my neck,” he whispered against her hair. It was so easy to obey him. As soon as she did, he slid his hands under her ass and lifted her. She instinctively wound her legs around his waist as he walked them towards his bedroom. Once there, he set her on the floor before turning back the covers.
As soon as she was in bed, she curled up into fetal position and drew the covers to her neck. Bending down to her level, Nathan said, “I’ve got to lock up the house then I’ll be back, okay?”
She nodded.
He placed a kiss on her forehead before walking out of the room. She could hear the faint sounds of his movement outside the bedroom. They were like a lullaby to her and soon she drifted off.
It was dark when she woke up. Though her mind was hazy, she unconsciously shifted closer to arm that held her tight against a masculine body. It was only when she took a lazy breath in that she realized who she was lying next to. His scent teased her senses as did the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath her head and palm.
Languorously, she stretched against his body, her legs tangling with Nathan’s bare ones as her hand made a sweeping arch to rest on his stomach. Beneath her, he stirred restlessly and his arms tightened around her. She lifted her head slightly to see if he was awake. Despite the shadowy darkness in the room, she could still see his face. He was deep asleep.
For a while she watched him, mentally tracing his features and the lines of his body. Shadows and sleep were not enough to shroud his attractiveness. This was a man who could’ve had any woman he wanted. He didn’t need to pick up vagabonds like her.
So why had he?
Obviously he wasn’t after free sex because if he was he would’ve taken what she’d freely offered at dinner. Did he feel the intense connection between them or was he just being kind-hearted? Was his help just for tonight or would there be more nights of being held in his arms? Weren’t they breaking some kind of one-night stand code and would that be so bad? After Charlie was she even ready to consider another relationship?
The questions swirled around her like a thunderstorm that had no end-by date. The logical part of her brain wanted answers now. The emotional part just wanted her to enjoy Nathan taking care of tonight and let tomorrow take care of itself. She could’ve been in a car, squeezed in a driver’s seat and crying alone. Instead he was here, protecting her even in his sleep. She hadn’t even told him thank you.
She arched upwards and touched his lips with hers. It was a mistake because this time, his eyes fluttered open.
“Shakira?” he called in a deep, gravelly voice.
“I’m here. Shush,” she soothed, as she rubbed small circles on his abdomen. “Go to sleep.”
He took a deep breath before turning his head to brush his lips over her nose and then closed his heavy lids again. Soon he was asleep. It took a while to coax her thoughts back into their cage but eventually she fell asleep.
When next she woke up it was to an empty bed and the sun’s rays spilling into the room through the closed room. Yawning, she stretched her body across the bed. Paper crinkled beneath her arm on the pillow, drawing her attention. It was a note from Nathan.
Had to go to work. I’ll be back at around six. Make yourself at home.
It was odd making herself at home in her own home. Somehow it didn’t feel like hers. The mugs were in a different cupboard, the refrigerator was stocked with beer, there was now a coffee-maker… Nathan had only made a few subtle changes but they were enough to remind her that for now this was his place.
She stood by the counter, waiting for water to boil in the electric kettle so she could make a cup of hot cocoa. Her eyes searched the kitchen noting Nathan’s preferences and somehow ended up at the corner of the counter where a bunch of letters stood heaped one upon the other.
Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was instinct.
She picked them up. The top letters were marked in Nathan’s name but the fifth letter had her name, so did the sixth, and the seventh. Perplexed, Shakira shuffled through them one by one.
Why hadn’t Nathan said anything about having her mail? Many people had tried to get through to her. One letter even had her bank’s watermark. Was he hiding them? No. She quickly dismissed the idea. If he was they wouldn’t have been so openly displayed when he knew she was in the house. He’d probably just forgotten to tell her.
She was still shuffling through the letters when she came to an abrupt stop.
Her eyes widened as she stared at the envelope in her hands. Scrawled in a neat tight handwriting atop the white paper was his name.
Charles Welden.
She dropped the envelope like it was made of fire.
CHAPTER 10
“I vote we sprinkle holy water on it and then set it on fire,” London suggested.
“I don’t think it would burn if we poured water on it,” Shakira reasoned though she didn’t take her eyes off the object of their attention. It was now seated, comfortable as you please, in the trash can next to the door where she’d dropped it a few hours ago while she was cleaning up the house.
“Not if we get…” London paused to throw another chip into her mouth. The crunching sound filled the kitchen before she finished, “…that good Jesus juice! I bet Miss Wendy has some stocked up.”
“I think we should read it.” Though the name on the envelope was Charlie’s, the handwriting was also his. Why would Charlie send himself a letter to her apartment?
“Uh uh!” London, who was seated on the kitchen counter next to a standing Shakira, shook her head. “My mama always says don’t step on nobody’s grave, and that sure looks like Charlie’s grave.”
“You don’t even know your mama!”
“You. Are. A. Bitch.” London emphasized each word with a crunch of a crisp. “Fine, go on then…” Crunch. “…Pick it up.”
Shakira didn’t move.
“Ooh, you scared, ain’t you?” London taunted.
“I am not.”
“Pick it up, bitch.” The amusement in London’s voice was clear as day. Shakira regretted even telling her about the letter in the first place. She’d only done it to stem London’s teasing about her moving in with her ‘boy-toy’.
Shakira had briefly considered packing up and leaving, but it seemed ungrateful especially considering how Nathan had reacted to her last hasty exit. She was willing to wait and talk.
“Fine, I’ll pick it up.” Shakira threw at London.
“Fine.”
“I’m going in.” Shakira straightened from the counter.
“Wait, wait!” London hopped off the counter and rushed to the door leading to the outside balcony. “I want to be near an exit point when Charlie’s ghost jumps out of it.”
“You’re so dramatic.” Shakira rolled her eyes as she walked towards the basket. She couldn’t really see London jumping from the second floor balcony – but then again it was the little ones who could surprise you.
“Taran taran, taran, taran taran taran, taran taraaaaan tararan,” London hummed the ominous Pink Panther danger tune under her breath.
Shakira bent and picked up the envelope, holding it gingerly between her thumb and index finger. She almost dropped it when something moved inside the envelope, running from its top to the bottom. When she had it firmly in her grasp again, she turned and waved the envelope at London. “See, no ghosts.”
“You need to watch more horror movies.” London made no move to get back into the kitchen. “It’s when you open the letter that they jump out.”
“Okay, let’s open it then.” Shakira tore off the top of the letter – no ghosts sprung out. She pulled out a folded sheet of plain paper and then set the envelope on the counter.
London was by her side in the blink of an eye. “What’s it say?”
“I thought you were afraid of his ghost?” Shakira unfolded the paper.
Ignoring Shakira’s question, London read the only two words on the paper. “Free card.” Her brow wrinkled, echoing the confusion that Shakira was feeling. “What does that mean?”
“I have no idea.”
London kissed her teeth, “He wastes his time writing from the grave and all he has to say is ‘Free card’? This nigga! He should have at least sent his teeth or something.”
“Ew.” Shakira winced as she reached for the envelope. That better not be Charlie’s tooth that had moved in there. Cautiously she peeked in, her head bumping against London’s, and spotted the small rectangular metal encased in blue transparent plastic.
London gasped, “Ghosts know how to use thumb drives?”
“When did you get so superstitious?” Shakira asked as she shook out the thumb drive. It dropped onto her palm soundlessly.
“I’m from New Orleans, baby. It’s in the genes,” London said. “Well, are we going to check it out or what?”
“What if the ghosts jump out the computer screen?” Shakira teased as they walked to the living room where she’d set up her laptop.
“You’re right!” London agreed. “We need to pray first.”
She launched into enthusiastic prayer that was punctuated with plenty of yeses and calls for the Lord to protect them from Charlie’s sweater-vest clad demon. By the time she was done, Shakira was holding her stomach as her body heaved in unrestrained laughter. London merely gave her a raised eyebrow then snatched the thumb-drive from Shakira’s hand. She plugged the drive into the laptop.
It took a while for the computer to recognize the foreign object. When it did, Shakira tapped on it. Instead of revealing its contents a dialogue box opened up requesting a password.
“O-okay!” Shakira stared at the screen in puzzlement.
“Try guessing,” London suggested.
“I have no idea what it is,” Shakira said but she typed in Charlie’s middle name. The dialogue password immediately returned a ‘wrong password. She tried his birthday, his birth sign, his mother’s name – same result.
London also helpfully offered up some suggestions. “Imacheater” “Rochelleisaslut.” “Thatbitchprobablykilledme” “orgavemeanSTD”
Shakira laughed. “I don’t think any of those will work.”
Hours later they still hadn’t figured it out. It was a struggle to get London out of the house and on her way to the salon but the girl needed money. If Amani and Farah kicked her out of their shared house because of her pending rent, Shakira couldn’t help her out. Once London was gone, Shakira logged into her freelance account.
“Yes.” She pumped her fists up in excitement when she found that one of the bids she’d made had come through. It was only a one hundred and thirty dollar contract to help some guy out with his tax forms, but in her current situation one hundred and thirty dollars was like stumbling on a gold mine.
She was three quarter way done with the work when she looked up at the clock, only to realize that in about an hour Nathan would be back home. Her heart lurched in excitement as her lips curled in an instinctive smile. She couldn’t wait to see him again. Hopping to her feet, she headed to the kitchen. Supper was the least she could make for him considering all that he’d done for her.
The delicious smell of chicken cooking hailed Nathan as soon as he opened the door. It taunted and tempted him, niggling at his senses and wetting his appetite. His belly growled in hunger as the rest of his body lit up in excitement. She was still here.
Shakira!
He knew he shouldn’t have been so excited. Having her so close to him was dangerous when she was who she was. She shouldn’t be here and he shouldn’t be glad she was. But if there was switch to control his emotions, he still hadn’t found it. He couldn’t stop the instinctive urge to protect her when he’d found her in her car or the need to soothe away her tears. It would’ve taken a bulldozer to keep him from holding her through the night and making sure she was safe.
He’d watched the shows where people talked of being cat-fished and he’d always laughed. He wasn’t laughing anymore. This is how it happened. The only plus side about this situation was that he was aware of what was going on. Maybe Shakira’s staying here wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Bringing her to his house had been instinct, but he could turn it into strategy.
Finally he could have his fill of her and seduce the truth from her at the same time. Men and women were built different. While women formed an emotional connection after sex, men just got bored – so the experts said. He would satiate himself until he had her out of his system. When she finally showed her cards, he’d be watching, thinking straight and ready to take her down. And he’d be able to walk away when the time came.
Yes! He’d be able to walk away!
He shrugged out of his leather jacket throwing it on the couch before making his way to the kitchen. Her back was to the door as she flipped the sizzling meat on the pan. She didn’t hear him and it gave him a chance to observe her.
Damn, she was beautiful! Shakira was the only woman he knew who could make a grey t-shirt, yellow short-shorts and bare feet look even sexier than the frilliest of lingerie. He knew how pliable the body underneath all those clothes was, how her small waist felt in his hands and how it felt to have those long legs wrapped around his flanks. His fingers itched to unravel the ponytail braid that she’d drawn her thick hair into and spread it across her naked skin. He settled for crossing the expanse of the kitchen to stand behind her.
She jumped when he pressed his chest to her shoulder blades. She pressed a palm to her breast while her head turned sharply and anxious eyes met his. Taking in a sharp breath, she gasped, “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” His attention was on her lush lips. Today at work, they were all he could think of, along with the warmth of her body and how right it felt to be near her.
“I didn’t even know you were back,” she said.
“I’m back.” He bent his head to place his lips on hers. It was only meant to be a quick ‘hello’ kiss but then she turned in his arms it morphed into so much more. He took her mouth, enjoying the slight taste of chicken and lemon that lingered on her breath and her quick response to him. Her tongue darted into his mouth to tango with his in a mating dance. The more he tasted her, the more he wanted and his lips hardened on hers.
Her whimper of response and the seductive smoothing of her palm along his arms and shoulders were enough to make him gather her tightly against him. Her breasts were sealed so tightly against his broad chest that he could feel the aroused points digging into him. Jesus. She wasn’t wearing a bra. His cock lengthened in response and he pressed it against her stomach. Her response was a roll of her taut tummy that had him groaning in her mouth. “Shakira,”
He lowered his hands to her ass, ready to carry her somewhere where he could strip her of her clothes and have his fill of her. If it wasn’t for the sudden popping sound behind them, he probably would have too. Shakira yanked her mouth from his and turned. “The food.”
“Damn,” he mumbled in disappointment. He kept his hands on her hips even as she turned to full face the cooker and fiddle with the chicken.
Maybe she could push away her passion that easily but Nathan couldn’t. Burning with need, he buried his forehead in her hair and pressed his swollen dick on the small of her back.
“Nathan,” she protested. “I’m cooking.”
He wasn’t beyond begging. “Please, baby!”
“Later,” she said but she didn’t swat his hand away when he fit it beneath the waist band of her shorts and panties or as he smoothed his palm over the tight curls covering her mound. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp when he fit two fingers between her pussy lips.
“You’re already wet for me,” he whispered when her slick heat covered his fingers. Only a shrapnel of common sense made him reach towards the cooker with his free hand and switch off the burner. He was hungry but not for food.
“Nathan, stop,” she whimpered but spread her legs to give him easier access. He flicked her nub and earned himself a slow twirl of her hips. He bent his knees, needing to feel that movement. When the rounded globes of her ass rubbed against his cock, Nathan nearly came in his pants.
