by Kiki Leach
He kissed her again and she still couldn’t stop herself from kissing him back. As their tongues intertwined, she trailed her fingers up and down his spine and the back of his neck. She started lifting her leg without thinking, sliding it around his waist. Her dress fell back and she was fully exposed, but didn’t care. He pressed his entire body against hers, forcing her to feel how much he had craved her all these years. He rested his hands at her throat, then slid them down the front of her body, relaxing them at her stomach. He thrust his tongue even deeper into her mouth before yanking himself away for the second time. Vanessa was out of breath. She could hardly remember her own name, what day of the week or time it was, or what had just happened prior to her getting home.
Maurice licked her from his mouth, watching with glee as she tried regaining composure.
“I want to be your friend, Vanessa…. But I also want to make love to you for the rest of my life. I want to wake up to you every morning and hold you every night as you sleep in my arms. You need to accept that these feelings are never going away for me. They’ve only gotten stronger over time and will get even more intense the longer you deny what this is. If I have to accept Nathan as part of your life, you need to accept your feelings for me as part of it too.”
He bent down, kissing and nibbling the side of her neck. She rolled her eyes into her head and turned her face toward his, hoping for another kiss, but he moved away.
“I’m in there,” he told her again.
He was in there, a lot more than she was willing to admit.
“I’m not looking for an answer tonight. But when I said that no matter how hard you try to push me away, I’m gonna keep coming back until you say yes, I meant it. And now that I’m certain I have a chance with you, I’m not giving up so easily this time.”
He walked away from her, a confident grin spreading across his face as he moved up every step leading to his bedroom.
Vanessa was in a state of shock. The kiss was so intense, it practically burned her lips.
As she shut her eyes recalling the taste of it, she realized she had almost had sex with one man in her office and nearly gave herself to another in her own home barely an hour later, and with no time to breathe in between. After everything she had said about Sheila and to Nikki, she was starting to wonder who in the hell she was becoming herself. Nathan was taken, but might have called off the wedding if she gave into temptation. Maurice was her best friend, which would change in an instant if she had given into him.
Her head was spinning. At this point she didn’t know if she was coming or going. But one thing was for certain, she knew that after tonight, there was no turning back, for any of them.
DECISION MAKERS
Synopsis:
In the second book in the Miss Independent series, Vanessa begins to wonder if a real life with Maurice may be better or worse than the fantasy she always dreamed of having with Nathan. Meanwhile, Nathan and Sheila come to some big decisions regarding their upcoming wedding, as Nikki finally decides what to do about her relationship with Oscar.
Various Spanish Translations:
A little bit ~ Un poco
That’s crass ~ Que la burda
Seize the day ~ Aprovechar el día
A little too far ~ Un poco demasiado lejos
Very philosophical ~ Muy filosófica
Two-hundred and fifty dollars ~ Doscientos cincuenta dólares
Sleaze ~ Sordidez
Let’s go ~ Vamonos
He may not be the one, but please God, let him be more than what I have already ~ No puede ser el elegido, pero por favor, Dios, que será más de lo que ya tengo
Idiot ~ Pendejo
As expected ~ Como era de esperar
I’m right or else you wouldn’t have said my name first ~ Yo tengo la razón o, de lo contrario, no habría dicho mi nombre primer
Affirmations ~ Afirmaciones
Stipulations ~ Estipulaciones
The head ~ La cabeza
Belligerent ~ beligerante
Genius ~ el genio
There were no lies told that night ~ No hubo mentiras esa noche
Selfish bitch ~ perra egoísta
Wretched bitch ~ Maldita perra
I’m not going to give you the reunion, Vanessa did too good of a job for me to repeat that, but I am going to give you this ~ No voy a dar la reunión, Vanessa hizo muy buen trabajo para mí a repetir eso, pero voy a darte esto
Garbage piece of writing ~ pedazo de basura de la escritura
Bizarre ~ Extraño
************
Part One
It seemed as if the room would never stop spinning. Vanessa almost felt drunk and sick from the events that had occurred after last night’s reunion. Not sick in the way that she felt like running to the bathroom and vomiting, but in the way that she felt like she would die a very slow and painful death in her bed all alone that morning if she didn’t come to a decision about her life soon and the people in it.
She rolled over on her stomach and clutched her pillow tight, pulling it beneath her chin and pressing down hard as she momentarily shut her eyes. She began thinking of Maurice’s lips and how they felt against her own when he kissed her last night, after she had finally returned home from her office, a place where she sought solace but found nothing but regret.
She remembered how he kissed her and why, how his mouth tasted and the sweetness of his lips. She remembered the feel of his skin as he melted against her own like butter, and the enticing yet strong scent of cinnamon and sweat as it filled her nostrils. She remembered how he thrust himself between her legs, how she liked it when she felt the size of his dick expanding against her pussy, and how much she never wanted any of it to stop.
Her eyes popped open when she remembered him walking away from her, following that insanely addictive kiss; the look on his face as he headed upstairs was challenging her to follow him not only into his heart, but to his bed. But she didn’t. She couldn’t even if she had wanted to because he wasn’t the only man she had been enamored with that night. She knew she couldn’t truly give herself to her best friend of fifteen years in any way without knowing exactly where things stood with the former love of her life, Nathan.
The thoughts of them together forced her on her back. She stared up at the ceiling and remembered the time spent with him in her office, where he had come to visit on the heels of his fiancée Sheila tossing him out after a fight about Vanessa in their hotel room, following the reunion. She wanted him to go, she begged for him to leave her alone and to return to his future wife instead.
But her words fell on deaf ears, which didn’t seem to matter seeing as they didn’t match her body language when he touched her; or her lustful reaction when he slipped his hands into her hair and softly whispered into her ear how much he knew she still wanted him, even after all this time and all that he had done to her.
She didn’t want to admit that he was right; or to come between her thighs as she gave into the temptation of his kiss when he pressed his tongue against hers with such eagerness, as if he had been dying of thirst and she was his only chance for survival; as if he had been dreaming of that moment for the last five years, or all of the one-thousand-six-hundred-and-forty-two days he had missed being near her, according to him.
She couldn’t stop herself from becoming completely enamored when he wrapped his arms around her waist, no matter how much she tried not to. She couldn’t stop herself from nearly making love to him on top of her desk. And with walls made of glass from one side of the room to the other, it was open enough for the entire world to see down below if they wanted a free show.
She couldn’t help how her heart fluttered at the thought of being his again, even though she knew she shouldn’t, even though she knew it was a mistake that would lead to more heartache than she had experienced in high school when they broke up. But last night, he felt like her everything all over again, as if nothing had changed between them, as if they were still together as o
ne. Realizing he still wanted her as much as she wanted him was all she ever wanted, and now she finally had it.
Except she didn’t. Because he wasn’t available to her in that way anymore, and she had to wonder if despite their past relationship, if despite everything that occurred last night, if he ever really was. If he could so easily be with Sheila behind her back when they were together, and with her behind Sheila’s now, what did they ever really have? Was it ever something real, legitimate? Or was it just a good time had by everyone but her?
When she heard a loud knock on her door, she panicked at the sound and popped up like a wind-up jack-in-the-box, tossing her hair around her back and grabbing at her chest. Her blankets fell to her waist as she looked over at the clock sitting on her nightstand. She opened her eyes wide when she saw that it was almost one in the afternoon, because she had been awake since 9am.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Maurice.” His deep voice rattled against the door, sending enormous vibrations inside the room and straight through to Vanessa’s heart.
Oh shit. She slapped her hand to her head and cringed in pain; her face was still sore from the fight with Sheila that had occurred in the ballroom before everything else following their reunion happened to hit the fan.
She lightly pressed her hands against her cheeks to ease the stinging and closed her eyes. She cleared her throat to lower the nerves building inside her chest and breathed out. “Um, yeah?” She hadn’t spoken to Maurice since he disappeared into his room and she wasn’t sure what she was going to say to him today, if she could even manage to say more than a few words.
“It’s one in the afternoon,” he told her. “Do you plan on coming out of there anytime soon? I know you had a lot to drink, but you were pretty lucid before bed.”
“Um, yeah -- yeah,” she answered quickly. Of course I was lucid, your tongue made damn sure of that, she thought. “I know. At some point I plan on getting up and out. I was just really tired, you know, the reunion and everything kinda wore me out.” She paused, hoping it would be enough to convince him that she wasn’t talking about him when she said ‘everything’.
It didn’t.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, though it sounded more like a sigh. He lay his hand against the door, recalling their night together. He wondered if that would be the last time they danced as friends or anything more; if his kissing her in their den downstairs would be the one and only time he would ever know the taste of her lips, and the feel of her tongue against his. He couldn’t take it if it were; that kiss was all he thought of as he slept. Being in love with someone that you weren’t entirely sure could ever love you back in the same way, even if you were confident that they should, wasn’t the easiest feat in the world, and Maurice Livingston knew it all too well. He swallowed back his thoughts and curled his fingers inside his palm before removing it from her door. He stood straight and nodded. “Alright.” He turned his eyes to the floor and crinkled his brows. “I cooked you some breakfast if you want it.”
“Ok! Great! Thanks!” she hollered.
He noticed the enthusiasm in her voice and knew she didn’t mean it, she couldn’t after having been in bed for that long. He waited a few seconds, staring at her door, before finally heading back downstairs and to the kitchen.
She dropped back on her headboard, her heart pounding against her chest. She looked down and pressed her hand against it to keep it from protruding straight through to the other side. That was normal, right? she wondered. Subtle. She wasn’t sure if she was coming off more insane than usual and he took note, leaving instead of asking more questions, or if he wasn’t able to tell a thing in that entire conversation -- how nervous she was to talk to him after finally realizing that she could no longer hide feelings for him that went so far beyond friendship that she was in a zone she didn’t even know existed.
Beyond lust or sex, it was a bit deeper, more catastrophic and dangerous for her heart, but in a way that made her tingle with excitement, made her palms sweat with frequency, her stomach fill with more butterflies than an insect factory and her pussy as wet as an oil slick. It was a mixture of such strange, yet powerful emotions, almost like a death but the exhilaration of being brought back to life just a few seconds later.
She thought back, trying to recall if this was what it felt like to fall in love for the first time. It had been too long for her to remember. She didn’t know how to react to something like this anymore, what to do or say -- it all felt so very new to her even though it wasn’t. These were feelings that Maurice had convinced himself were always inside of her, possibly even before she began dating Nathan, though he could never be too sure until last night when he thought he was finally certain. He was sure that today would test that theory for them both once and for all.
As she jumped from the bed and readied herself in the mirror, she looked down at her breasts, taking note of her nipples as they had risen at just the sound of Maurice’s voice. She figured she should wear something more appropriate while around him now, at least until she figured out what the hell was going on inside her head and heart. A baby doll top with matching silk shorts so small they barely covered her ample ass were probably not the best thing to showcase right now, not when she had already been giving so many mixed signals as it was.
Walking out in this was sure to drive him even crazier than she already had throughout the entirety of their friendship. Not to mention, he had never seen her in anything less than jean shorts and a loose tank top. She may have taken a few peeks at him in the shower from time to time while she got ready for work, but he was sure to never do the same unless she welcomed it. She quickly changed into an oversized sweatshirt and a long pair of leggings and knitted socks, then took a few deep breaths, prayed for her sins, and headed downstairs.
Part Two
When she walked into the kitchen, she saw him sitting at the table reading the New York Times and slurping from his spoon before placing it back into a bowl of what looked like frosted flakes. He was wearing the exact same thing she had seen him in the night before, grey sweatpants and not much else. His olive skin practically beamed against the light of the sun as it shone through a window behind him. She didn’t want to be a cliché, gawking at a shirtless, well-toned Italian man sitting in the middle of her kitchen eating from a bowl of cereal like an adult child, but she couldn’t help herself.
His body was sick in a way that she imagined doing nasty things to him that she would never imagine doing with anyone else, not even Nathan. Especially Nathan, because he probably wouldn’t appreciate them as much as Maurice would. The irony of it all. Janet Jackson’s IF came to mind the longer she stared at him and she quickly switched off her thoughts.
He smiled at her once he realized she had walked in and she did the same, though she was shy about this smile compared to all the other times she walked into a room and saw him staring back at her in damn near awe and excitement. Because this time was different, this time her smile meant more than a ‘Good morning, I’m glad to you see you, too, bestest friend in the entire universe’. It was more along the lines of, ‘Gotdamn, you are the sexiest motherfucker I’ve ever seen in my life. And you’re smart. And you make me laugh. And you treat me like a queen, and would probably love me until the day you died.’
She flipped her hair behind her in almost a dramatic manner and he got up from his chair to pull one out for her, the one that sat closest to him. She thought of taking a seat on the other side instead, but she didn’t want to make things even more awkward between them than they already were, and chose the seat he pulled. As he pushed her underneath the table, he bent down to her face and stared at her.
She frowned, seeing the small bruising that had formed around his left eye and cheek.
“Your face,” she said, reaching out her hand. When she saw his eyes closing, she pulled back almost immediately. She knew what it would mean if she touched him, what he would feel. She didn’t want to take the risk of going there before she ha
d even tasted her food first. She lowered her hand to her lap and cleared her throat. “I guess Nathan hit you harder than I thought he had.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he told her, opening his eyes.
“You should probably put more ice on it anyway.”
He lifted one side of his face into a devilish grin. “You concerned about me, V?”
“I’m always concerned.” She swallowed hard and stammered, searching for the words she had meant to say in response. “I just don’t want you passing out from a concussion in my kitchen.”
“Our kitchen,” he reminded her. His eyes were the color of root beer; they twinkled as he spoke, as did hers. “I still pay for half of this place too. And Nathan didn’t hit me that hard. His hands are too small to make an impact on anyone, always have been.”
As he moved closer to her face, the coolness of his breath hit her lips. She shivered as a rush of something electric flowed through her veins, feeling warm and familiar. She gazed at him with yearning in her eyes, that coke bottle color he so often loved, and his smile deepened, knowing what she was thinking, what she wanted and felt; he was all but willing, and more than able to give into her desire in that very second had she given him the okay.
She looked down at his mouth, ripe and full like a fresh strawberry picked straight from the vine. She was so desperate to taste it, feel the softness of it against her own again, even biting her bottom lip to fight the urge in suckling his. He looked down at her dowdy attire, knowing what she had done and why, but it wasn’t necessary. No matter how much he wanted her, he always respected her enough to back off until she was ready. And so he did, fearing he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from going in for a deep kiss the longer she stared at him like that, knowing it was too soon to go further which is what he would’ve gladly done without guidance.
He eased back down in his chair and handed her the plate he had prepared, two eggs, a few slices of bacon and some toast soaked in honey, something she had loved since she was a kid. He handed her a glass of orange juice and she thanked him, taking a large gulp.
