I looked up to see Roman standing in front of the door, his expression half concerned, half amused as he scanned my sprawled form on the floor.
“I’ve definitely been better,” I said, tucking my legs under me in an attempt to look a little more dignified. “Tripped on… hell, the air, I guess.”
Roman chuckled as he stepped in, closing the door behind him. “Did you hurt anything?” he asked, kneeling in front of me.
Shrugging, I did a quick visual inventory of myself. “Not seriously, I don’t think. My wrist feels a little gross, but that’s all.”
“Let me see it.”
Lifting an eyebrow, I extended my arm to him, watching skeptically as he rotated my wrist, then fingers. “What, are you a doctor or something too?”
“Nah,” he laughed. “Just a former clumsy-assed teenager. I got pretty good at assessing the damage I did to myself. Any sharp pains from anything I did?”
I shook my head. “Only a little stinging.”
“Good. It’s probably the pain of impact, kind of like when you stub a toe. It should pass.”
“Thanks.” I averted my eyes, but after a moment, I chuckled at the thought that floated into my head.
“What’s funny?” Roman asked, shifting into a seated position.
“I’m funny. Remember in the cab when you told me I still looked good? I bet you can’t say that now.”
Laughing, Roman looked me over. “Yes I can. Your hair is a little crazy now, but that’s okay.”
I groaned, leaning forward to place my head on his shoulder. “You must think I’m a lush or something. And a klutz on top of that. I’m so ashamed of myself”
“I don’t think any of that, so don’t be embarrassed. This’ll be our little secret.”
I lifted my head, and he reached up to push my hair back from my face. His hand lingered at the nape of my neck, and it occurred to me that we were so near each other right then that it would barely take any effort at all to be close enough for our lips to touch. Then, our eyes met, and our lips did touch. My headache melted away, or maybe I just didn’t give a shit about it anymore because his tongue was in my mouth, and his hands were at my waist, pulling me closer. Inexplicably, my inhibitions fell away and scattered. My fingers tangled in handfuls of his shirt as he continued kissing me like… hell, I didn’t even have a reference point for a kiss like that. It was just good. Good enough that I was mentally searching my apartment for the box of condoms I knew I had somewhere.
Disappointment flooded me when he ended the kiss, raking his tongue over his lips to wet them before scrubbing a hand over his face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, not releasing my grip on his shirt as he tried to pull away.
“Simone…” He groaned. “We shouldn’t be doing this. You’re drunk.”
I scowled. “I’m not drunk, I told you that.”
“Okay, tipsy.”
“Barely.”
Roman laughed, covering my hands with his. “You’re on the floor right now.”
“Because I tripped.”
“Still,” he said, gently extricating his shirt from my fingers. “Intoxicated enough that I don’t think I should be kissing you… or doing anything else.”
Or, maybe you just made it a little too easy for him and it turned him off. Desperate much?
I sighed, running a thumb over my still tingling lips. “Well… um… thanks for being a gentleman, I guess.” I averted my eyes, pretending to be focused on removing my shoes.
“Simone, I — do you need some help?” he asked, springing to his feet in an attempt to assist with my clumsy rise to my own.
“No, I’ve got it. But thank you.”
“Um… you’re welcome. I was gonna say that I—”
I shook my head. “No. You don’t have to explain, I get it.”
“If you’re telling me I don’t have to explain, I definitely need to explain, because—”
“Roman, really. We’re good.” My headache was returning at a record-breaking speed, and the last thing I wanted to do was suffer through an attempt to make me feel better about his rejection with an explanation about how it wasn’t me, it was him. “Um… it’s pretty late, so I’m gonna go ahead and take a bath and call it a night.”
His eyebrows dipped in confusion, then he shrugged. “Okay… I guess.”
“Thank you again, for everything tonight. I appreciate your help.”
“It’s not a problem.”
I nodded, still unwilling to meet his eyes. “Well… goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” he said, giving me a slight tip of his head before he turned to head to the door. He stopped, with his hand over the doorknob and let it drop. “You know what… no.”
He turned around, with a vehement expression that rooted me where I stood. Before I could wrap my head around what was happening, he was right in front of me, cupping my face in his hands as he pulled me into another kiss. An involuntary moan escaped my throat as he explored my mouth, sucking, biting, licking with a fervor that made my knees weak.
When he pulled away, he kept my head tipped up, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “I want it to be perfectly clear that the only reason we’re not in here sweating right now is your lack of sobriety. I don’t do ambiguity, Simone. I need an enthusiastic, unmistakable yes, and I don’t know you well enough to make an assumption — or take your word for it — when you’re not completely sober. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said weakly
He kissed my forehead, then lowered his hands from my face. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”
And… he left. Leaving me still anchored to the same spot. After a few moments, I pushed out a breath, and found the capacity to go and lock my front door. Again, my headache was miraculously absent, and instead of the slight wooziness from before, I felt giddy.
Until I started replaying the events of the night in my head.
I had completely embarrassed myself once… twice… three times in the span of one night, and they were all my own doing. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered why Roman was even interested in me, with all of my awkwardness and presumptive hot and cold behavior.
He’s a man, Simone. What do you think he wants?
I pouted as I turned on the water for my jetted tub. It would be easy to assume he was sticking around for the prospect of sex, but he’d turned that down. Confidence in my physical appearance wasn’t something I’d ever been short of. I’d never had an issue with getting male attention. Keeping it, on the other hand, was a whole other story.
When I got the water to a desirable temperature, I pushed down the stopper and tossed one of my coveted bath melts into the tub for a little extra treat. While the tub filled, I pulled my favorite lavender and vanilla candles, lighting them as I lined them up around the room. The overhead lights went off, and my sound system went on, filling the air with the impassioned strains of my neo-soul playlist. With my stage set for maximum relaxation, I stripped down to nothing and slid into the water, resting my head against my bath pillow as my thoughts drifted again to Roman.
I could kick myself for automatically assuming the worst about his reluctance to have sex. Closing my eyes, I focused on happier things — like the fact Roman had kissed me. Twice. And that second kiss? Whew. My nipples grew hard thinking about the way he’d somehow struck a perfect balance between authoritative and gentle, sending me into a tailspin of arousal. And then he just… left. He ditched me, leaving me feeling not only lonely, but very, very turned on.
Pressing the button to activate the water jets, I tried not to think of Roman as I massaged the perfumed oil from the bath melt into my skin. I groaned a little, defeated, as visions of smooth dark brown skin, long slender fingers, and sweet, coffee scented lips permeated my meditation.
My hands became his, caressing my legs with firm, sensual strokes before cupping my breasts, using thumbs to tease my already hardened nipples into rigid peaks. I nearly whimpered in relief as his adept fingers found their way between
my thighs, stroking, massaging, flicking and squeezing, until my thighs were shaking under the water and I was nearly panting, desperate for release. Wantonly, I spread my legs as wide as they could go in the steamy confines of the oversized tub, inviting him deeper. And deeper he went, swirling his fingers inside of me while his thumb offered the necessary clitoral attention. A delirious sort of ecstasy took over, pushing me higher and higher until I reached an altitude where I could barely even breathe, then peaked.
Then, euphoric calm settled in as I slipped back down to the real world, followed grievously soon by the harsh realization that I was very much alone. I’d barely had time to bask in post-orgasm serenity when reality set in. Groaning, I turned off the jets and drained the tub, artlessly blowing out all of the candles. There was no relaxation or pleasure in my nightly moisture routine, and I didn’t even bother doing more with my hair than shoving it into an embarrassing, miniscule ponytail.
I was exhausted, and quite frankly… mad. And confused. And ashamed. And… hell, everything. All of the damned emotions, all at once. What the hell was I doing? Two nights ago, my most pressing issue had been whether I was going to wear my Posh Petals shirt with the full logo, or the one with just the initials to an event the next day. Now, I was in full-on existential crisis mode, complete with a — mild— drunken romp. Who was I?
“Who are you?” I asked myself aloud in the mirror. “And what the hell do you want?”
As I pondered that, Jill Scott’s melodic voice filtered through my murky thoughts, singing about a man loving her so well that in the chorus and bridge, she was reduced to runs and riffs. Never in my 29 years on the earth had I experienced that, but it sounded beautiful. Just the thought of a love so good, so deep it made you sing wordless songs of love with such passion that even strangers could feel it made my chest ache.
Damn.
It hit me with the force of a bomb that I was over being happily single. I stalked into the living room to retrieve my phone from my purse, unlocking it to send a text to India.
“I’m ready to fall in love. Watch me work.”
I hit send, then pulled on a pair of shorts and a tank top to sleep in. I was ready to fall in love. I wanted to fall in love. I was going to fall in love… I just needed a willing participant. Of course, my thoughts went straight to Roman, but I quickly decided that wasn’t fair. First, he probably thought I was crazy. Secondly, I barely knew him. Third, — in reference to the first item— I was 99% sure he thought I was crazy.
Still, I wanted him.
And I wanted love.
I needed to pump my brakes.
Even though Roman was exactly the kind of man Jilly from Philly was singing about — intelligent, smelled good, great hands, and an even better smile — it wasn’t fair to put that kind of unspoken pressure on him. Especially when tomorrow’s breakfast would be our first semi-real date. My energy would be better focused on forging a genuine connection with him than concerning myself with a love that would set me on fire. The very beginnings of that kind of love was like.
I liked Roman. He liked me too. And that was a start.
This is some bullshit.
It was way too early on a Sunday morning to be struggling to get into my own business, but there I was. With my hands planted on my hips, I shook my head at the half-lifted and apparently stuck security gate over my storefront.
“I’m guessing you could use some help.”
The sound of a masculine voice behind me on the mostly empty sidewalk startled me, but I could use some help, so I smiled as I turned around.“Your guess is… spot on.”
Oh damn.
Maybe there was some subliminal programming or something in the air waves that caused an influx of fine in this neighborhood. First Roman, and now… whoever this sexy stranger was. Rich pecan skin glistened in the soft early morning light as he stepped forward to stand beside me.
“It’s probably getting a little rusty,” he said, flashing me a smile as he — effortlessly, or so it seemed — pushed the gate up the remaining distance. I swallowed hard at the sight of his biceps flexing and jumping as he completed the task, then secured the chains that would keep it in place.
I cleared my throat, forcing my eyes up to his face as he turned around. “Yeah… rusty.”
“I’m Carter, by the way.” His dark, shoulder length locs bobbed against his shoulders as he extended his hand in greeting and I returned the gesture. “I’m a few storefronts down,” he said, pointing at the barber shop two doors away from mine. “I stepped out to unlock my door and heard you fussing at this thing from all the way down there.”
Cringing, I reached up to massage the back of my neck. “Sorry about that. I’m Simone.”
“No need to be sorry.” He stepped closer, leaning against the window as I sifted through my keys to locate the ones that opened the short row of locks on the front door. “It was actually funny. Pretty girl, with the illest potty mouth I’ve ever heard.”
Laughing, I shook my head as I pushed my key into the last lock. “I don’t usually curse like that, I promise. This morning was an isolated situation.”
“Hey, no need to explain. It’s like that sometimes. Besides… it was kinda sexy.” I lifted an eyebrow, and he winked in response, giving me a light squeeze on the arm before he turned to head back to his shop. “I’ll see you around, Simone,” he called over his shoulder as he ambled down the sidewalk.
I chuckled to myself as I entered the store. Last week, I had no viable dating prospects. This week, two gorgeous black men with legitimate businesses were flirting with me. I closed and locked the door behind me, then pulled my phone from the pocket of my jeans to text India.
“Back then, they didn’t want me. Now I’m hot, they all on me.”
It was still really early, so I spent the next couple of hours starting the prep work for a wedding we were doing the following week. Seven bouquets, twenty tablescapes, petals for the flower girl, and a ridiculous amount of flowers to decorate the ceremony space were all part of the project, and by the time 9 a.m. rolled around, I had everything inventoried, organized, and ready to be put together. My employees were in for the morning shift, so I decided to take a break and head down to Urban Grind for my “date” with Roman.
— & —
I finally saw what he meant when Roman said the vibe at UG was different during the day. There was no sign of the dance floor or stage, and the liquor cabinet was closed tight. Instead of a pounding beat, the music was subtle, allowing people to engage in conversation while they had their daily caffeine. The air was smoke free, permeated only by the steam from the espresso machines as I made my way to the counter.
I ordered a coffee and a muffin, then sat down at the quiet end of the counter, pulling out my phone to let Roman know I was there since I didn’t see him. Before I could hit send, I felt the shift in the air that let me know someone was standing close to me. I looked up to see Carter sliding onto the empty stool beside me, with an insulated to-go cup of coffee in his hand.
“So, I’ve run into you twice in one morning… you realize this is fate, right?” he asked, grinning.
I shook my head, smiling back as my coffee and muffin were placed in front of me. “Or you could be stalking me.”
Carter laughed. “Yeah, I guess that’s a possibility too. Seriously though, I came down here to grab a cup for one of my customers. Guy’s been coming in the shop since my granddad was the owner, and he still comes in now that I’m the owner. Least I can do is treat him to a cup of coffee with his cut.”
“Wow,” I nodded. “That’s good customer service.”
He shrugged. “I try, you know? What about you? You here every morning or something?”
“No, not at all. This is actually my first daytime visit.”
“First daytime visit?”
“Yeah. Roman invited me to try the coffee Friday evening, and I was here last night too.”
Carter lifted an eyebrow. his eyes narrowed for a second, and
then he shook his head as a smile spread over his face. “First name basis with the owner, huh?”
I took a long sip from my coffee before I answered. “Well… I’m on a first name basis with the owner of the barber shop too. So, what are you saying?”
“Nope. Try something else,” Carter said, laughing. “You haven’t been to my place three days in a row. What’s up with you and Roman?”
“You’re kinda nosey, aren’t you?”
“Stop deflecting.”
“It’s a valid observation.”
Carter lowered his head, looking me right in the eyes. “Yeah, and so is the fact that you’re deflecting. I’m saying… if I’m wasting my time here, let me know.”
“Wasting your time?”
“Yes, Simone. You can’t tell I’m flirting with you? Am I that terrible at it?”
I raised a hand between us, pinching my pointer finger and thumb together. “Maybe just a little terrible.”
“Or,” Carter said, glancing past me. I turned on my chair to see Roman across the shop, speaking with a customer. As if he could feel my eyes on him, he looked up, and his face immediately brightened into a smile. He gave me a nod of acknowledgement, but his brightness dimmed when his eyes slid over to Carter, who grinned. “The Coffee Kid already has your nose wide open, and you don’t see it for me.”
He wasn’t off base with his assessment. Carter’s physical attraction was undeniable, but he didn’t give me butterflies like Roman did. Shaking my head, I laughed. “I wouldn’t say that, but I do enjoy Roman’s company,” I said, opting for candor.
“Okay… so you can’t enjoy more than one person’s company?”
“I… um—”
I felt Roman approaching when he was still several feet away. I turned to watch him, unable to keep a little smile from spreading across my face at the sight of the sexy smirk that played on his. The kiss he placed on my forehead when he reached me was completely unexpected, but when he rested his hand against the small of my back, shooting Carter a sidelong glance, I understood.
Roman was marking “his” territory, sending the message that my attention was already occupied. That realization set off dueling feelings of annoyance — because we certainly hadn’t discussed any such thing in the three days we’d known each other — and approval — because I could appreciate the tenacity and confidence it took to do such a thing. Or… maybe he was just arrogant as hell. Either way, an intrepid spirit was high on my list of “yes, please” qualities in a man, so I let it ride.
A Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Serendipitous Love Book 1) Page 4
