I’d brought the book with me and sat it on my desk as a reminder to call and thank Lorenzo for his donation, but I was afraid to call him because of the feelings he evoked and the fact that he’d made it clear he was attracted to me. Plus, there were some steamy, grimy, nasty sex scenes in Bulletproof that caused me to have to change my underwear—twice. If he could create that kind of sensuality on paper, what could he do in real life?
Fuck you until you pass out.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” I actually said out loud. I was losing it, sitting there having a conversation with myself.
Finally, around 10:00 AM, I called the number on the check, hoping it wouldn’t send me to some office.
“Hello?”
His voice made my stomach quiver, and I took back my wish not to get an office.
“Hello?” he repeated.
I should hang up. “Hello, Mr.—Lorenzo?”
“Doc?”
I didn’t bother to correct him this time, because truthfully, it turned me on when he called me that. “Yes, um, I want to thank you for your donation. That was really generous of you.”
“You can thank me by having dinner with me tonight. My place, seven, I’ll cook.”
I held the phone.
“It’s just dinner, a friendly dinner.”
“What about all that stuff you said yesterday?”
“About the things I want to do to you? Oh, that still stands, but if you recall the rest of my statement, I said that’ll have to wait until you’re a free woman. Are you a free woman?”
“No, not yet.”
“Hmm, then unfortunately, just dinner. Should I send Rell for you? What’s your address?”
“I’m not giving you my address, and I haven’t accepted your invitation.”
“Okay…will you have dinner with me, Ms. Strickland?”
I ran my fingers over the cover of Bulletproof. “I enjoyed your book.”
“Good. Wanna discuss it tonight?”
I hesitated and finally said, “Seven? I’ll drive myself.”
“Can’t wait.”
An hour later, flowers—a huge bouquet of pale purple orchids—were delivered to me by Janine.
“Robert’s still trying to get you back, huh?” she asked, as she stood in front of my desk holding the vase. “Want me to get rid of them for you? One of Cassandra’s patients just delivered about twenty minutes ago. I could give them to her, say they’re from the birthing center?”
I shook my head as I stepped around the desk and took the flowers from her. “I’ll take care of them.” I set the vase on my desk and reclaimed my seat, eying the flowers as Janine remained glued to the floor.
I looked up at her. “Anything else?”
“No, I mean, you seem so calm. You’re not upset about the flowers?”
I shook my head, opened my mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the buzzing of my cell phone. Glancing at the screen, I recognized the unsaved number as one I’d dialed earlier.
“Uh, Janine, I need to take this.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, okay. I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”
I shook my head again after she closed the door behind her. I’d known Janine for years and loved her to death, but she was the nosiest woman in the world!
It took me so long to get rid of her, I missed Lorenzo’s call. When I called him back, he answered with, “You get the flowers, Doc?”
I smiled. I didn’t need to read the card to know they weren’t from Robert. He never would’ve sent me something as expensive as orchids.
“Yes, thank you. But what are they for?”
“You didn’t read the card?”
“Didn’t get a chance to. You called as they were being delivered to me.”
“My bad. You like them?”
“I do. They’re beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like them. Read the card. See you tonight.”
“See you tonight.”
After we ended the call, I pulled the card from its holder within the bundle of flowers and smiled as I read the words scrawled in rather lovely handwriting that matched the script on the check:
Beauty for a beauty. Looking forward to seeing you tonight. – Zo
9
The foremost thought in my mind as I pulled up to the gate outside Lorenzo’s house was that I shouldn’t have been there. I had no business going to this man’s house to have dinner or hang wallpaper or cut the lawn or anything else, because I was married. I was married, albeit unhappily, in the middle of a divorce married, but married nonetheless. And that coupled with the fact that Lorenzo made all my femininity awaken when I was around him meant I should leave. Not hit the button on the intercom and announce myself or pull my car in front of his house and let Rell open my door like I just had. And I certainly shouldn’t have left work early and gone shopping and bought the knee-length, red dress I was wearing, because when I picked it out, I did so with the intention of looking sexy. I shouldn’t have wanted to look sexy for Lorenzo.
But I did.
As I sat nervously in his living room, waiting for him, I told myself for the one-hundredth time to leave. Not that I thought I’d listen. As badly as I wanted to do the right thing and steer clear of this man, I couldn’t. I was drawn to him, and I wished I knew why so I could stop feeling like I was feeling.
“Hey, I’m sorry it took me so long to get down here, but I wanted to wash up so I wouldn’t be smelling like food.”
My eyes sauntered over his tall, imposing, deliciously sexy frame, and I gulped. He wore white slacks, a white shirt, and was barefoot, his heady cologne drifting into the room with him, causing me to close my eyes and inhale deeply.
“Doc?”
At that moment, I realized he was waiting for me to respond to what he’d said. “It’s all right,” I muttered, as I eased my eyes open and settled them on him again.
He smiled, taking a seat on a comfortable-looking sofa across from the chair I occupied. “Good. You want a drink or you want to head on to the dining room? Everything’s ready if you are.”
I shrugged. “We can eat. What are we having?”
He stood and reached for my hand. “You’ll see.”
*****
We had grilled steaks, baked potatoes, and a scrumptious raspberry and baby spinach salad. The food was so good, I didn’t utter a word during the entire meal until he finally asked, “How is everything?”
“It’s so good! You cook, you write, is there anything you can’t do?”
He gave me a lopsided grin. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, let me add that you’re also gracious and humble.”
He chuckled. “And handsome. Don’t forget handsome.”
I shook my head. “Seriously, where’d you learn to cook like this?”
He took a sip of his water and fixed his eyes on me. “It’s a hobby I picked up a few years back. It’s kind of therapeutic for me.”
“I see, and how’d you learn to write so well?”
He shrugged. “God-given talent, I guess. Hey, you ready for dessert?”
“Dessert?”
“Yeah, let me go get it.”
“Wait, do you have coffee?”
“I can make some.”
“How about we have some coffee and talk about your book for a bit, give me time to make room for dessert?”
He smiled again. “Okay, Doc. You got it.”
“So you really liked it?”
I nodded. “I loved it! Read the entire thing last night. Couldn’t put it down.”
He grinned. “Phew. I’m glad. I was worried you’d hate it.”
“Why would I? It’s a great book.”
“Because, you know, you’re all proper and bougie and high class and stuff.”
I laughed. “I work, and I work hard. Every day. High class people generally don’t have to work as hard as I do.”
He shrugged. “If you say so, but I can tell you’ve lived a privileged life. Rich paren
ts. Good schools. You’re articulate, very intelligent, possess an impeccable moral compass to be true to a man you’re divorcing. You definitely ain’t from the streets.”
I scoffed. “All that from a man who lives in a mansion complete with a security gate and a driver? Really?”
He set his coffee on the table beside his chair. “I worked my way up to this. No school, no rich parents, only this,” he said, pointing to his head. “And this.” He rested his hand on his chest over his heart. “You really want to know why I can write so well? Because I know that life better than you could ever imagine.”
I frowned slightly. “You sold drugs?”
He nodded.
I leaned forward. “You killed people?”
He stared at me for a moment as if making some internal decision, then finally said, “No.”
“Are you lying?”
“About what? Selling drugs or killing people?”
“Either—both.”
A smile slowly spread across his face. “Why? I mean, does it matter? Will it impact our…friendship?”
I sighed. “Why do you say that word like that?”
“What word?”
“Friendship. You say it like it’s a joke.”
“It is if you really think that’s all we share.”
I leaned my neck back. “Uh, we haven’t shared anything but light conversation and a couple of meals.”
“And an attraction that makes you extremely uncomfortable.”
I folded my hands in my lap. “Answer my question. Were you telling the truth?”
He nodded. “I was. But let’s say I did kill someone, what would that mean for us? Would you hold it against me?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never known anyone who killed someone before.”
“But you’ve known drug dealers?”
“I smoked a little weed in college, so yeah, I knew a couple of drug dealers.”
His mouth dropped open.
I rolled my eyes. “Wow, you really thought I was that innocent?”
“Yeah, I really did. Shit, I’m shocked.”
“And I’m shocked you’d prejudge me like that.”
“I’m merely going off of what I see and discern in you.”
We sat in silence for a minute or two and then he stood, and said, “Ready for dessert? Strawberry pound cake.”
My eyebrows flew up as I stood from my seat. “Yeah, let me help you.”
“If you point me to a knife, I’ll cut it,” I said, once we were in his kitchen.
“In the block on the counter to your left,” he said from somewhere behind me. His voice was soft, and I wanted to turn and look at him but was honestly afraid to.
“Did you make this?” I asked, as I sank the knife into the moist cake.
“No, my mom brought it over this morning. It’s her specialty.” He was still behind me, but I could tell he’d moved closer.
“Plates?”
He stepped beside me, opened a cabinet, and pulled out two saucers, setting them on the counter. I could feel his eyes on me as I placed the heavy slices of cake on the plates and licked the crumbed from my fingers.
“You gonna let me taste some, too?” he asked, in a voice so husky it took me aback.
My head snapped into his direction to find his eyes focused on mine. I glanced around, and said, “Uh, where are the forks?”
“Use your fingers.”
For some reason, those three words sounded obscene spilling from his lips. I shook my head, no.
He tilted his head to the side. “Why?”
Before I could answer, he’d broken a tiny piece of cake off one of the slices and brought it to my mouth. I hesitantly opened my mouth to accept it, a position he took advantage of by quickly leaning in and covering it with his, sliding his tongue inside. I moaned as we shared the cake and each other’s tongues. It all felt so…wrong in a good way. His hands gripped my waist as our kiss became more tongue than cake. Finally, I snapped out of whatever trance I was in and broke away from him. “Wait, stop,” I managed to say through heaving breaths.
“Why?” he asked, as he licked his lips.
“You know why,” I nearly whined.
“Okay, what if you don’t do anything, but I do? Will that be cheating?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
He moved closer, resting his hand gently on my neck and leaning in to press a kiss to my lips. “I’m talking about you keeping your integrity while I get to know you better.”
“H-how?”
He slid a hand down my thigh, then up my dress.
I sucked in a breath as my eyes darted around the kitchen. “Where’s Rell?”
As he hooked his finger in the waist of my panties, he said, “He won’t bother us,” and then fell to his knees. He pulled my panties down to my ankles and slid his hand between my thighs, urging me to open my legs.
“Lorenzo…”
“Open your legs, Doc.”
There was nothing nice or cordial about the way he said it. It wasn’t a request. It was a command laced with the insinuation that I’d be punished if I didn’t obey him, and something about that turned me on. So, I kept my legs together, and softly said, “Make me.”
I almost wanted to search the room to see who’d said that. Surely, not me.
“You think I can’t?” he asked, his face so close to my core that I felt the heat of his breath when he spoke.
“Show me you can.”
A second later, he was back on his feet, his mouth covering mine, both hands gripping my breasts through the fabric of my dress. He kissed me deeply, then backed away. “You like to play games, Doc?”
“I don’t know,” I said, wishing he’d stop talking and kiss me again.
“Well, I love to play games, because I always win.”
“Do you really?” I asked, attempting to move closer to him to kiss him.
He shook his head. “Open your legs, Doc.”
“I thought you were going to make me.”
His eyes flickered and he fell to his knees again, lifting my dress and attaching his mouth to my mound, licking and sucking on the hairless flesh.
I managed to kick my panties off and quickly opened my legs for him, because as good as his mouth felt on the outside of me, I was certain it would feel even better lavishing my sensitive spots.
“That’s right, Doc. There you go.” He left me, grabbed a chair from the table, turned it around, and said, “Sit down.”
I hesitated, staring at him. “What are you going to do if I sit down?”
“Sit down and find out.”
I slowly walked the few paces to the chair and sat in it. He was on his knees again in seconds, his hand under my dress, between my thighs, touching me there. Closing my eyes, I tried to summon the strength to stop him as he removed his hand, grabbed my hips, and pulled me to the edge of the chair. I opened my eyes in time to see him bury his face in my core, felt my legs shake as his tongue found my thrumming clit. I gasped, grabbed his head, and whimpered his name.
He lifted his head and looked up at me. “You like that, Doc?”
His tongue slid across my clit at the same time as he plunged two fingers inside of me.
“Yes,” I whined.
“Mmm,” he moaned.
He kept licking and stroking, and before long, I felt it coming and tried to brace myself before shouting, “Ooooooooooh!”
I was a pile of mush, still feeling the waves of the orgasm and aware of the pooling wetness between my legs when Lorenzo stood, grabbed my hand, and yanked me up on my weak legs, pulling me into a hungry kiss that made my mind fragment and scatter. I kissed him back, tasting myself on his mouth as he took my hand and placed it on his crotch. I clutched his erection through his pants and moaned into his mouth. He was throbbing in my hand, and it felt so…good, made me feel powerful.
Then he removed his mouth from mine. “You want it?” he asked. “You want it, Doc?”
I nodded, my brea
thing rough and jagged.
“What about your husband?”
I snatched my hand away from him and frowned. It was as if him saying those words ripped me from whatever fantasy world I’d slipped into. “I-I should go. What am I doing?” I mumbled.
“Doc, I—”
“No, I need to go,” I said, scurrying from the kitchen, stumbling a little as I headed into his living room to get my purse, my discarded panties forgotten.
He followed me all the way to the front door, and said, “You don’t have to go.” He sounded extremely disappointed.
“Yes, I do. I…thank you for dinner.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Just dinner?”
Heat swarmed my cheeks. “Uh…”
He smiled as he leaned in and gently kissed my cheek. The scent of my essence hit my nose, reminding me of why I needed to get out of there. “It’s all right,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I nodded and breathed a sigh of relief when he opened the door for me. “Okay.”
10
What was wrong with me to bring up her damn husband when I did? When she was putty in my hands, ready for me, willing to give herself to me? Shit, I had to have lost my whole mind! Then again, would I really have wanted to take advantage of her at a time of weakness and risk her backing completely away from me as a result? No.
I sighed as I fell into the chair behind my desk and stared at the screen of my laptop, the empty screen of my laptop. I was supposed to be writing, but the only words in my mind comprised a detailed description of Doc—Ms. Strickland. Big round expressive eyes, perfectly plush, full lips that I could confirm were exceptionally soft, nice nose, smooth chocolaty brown skin, a dimple in her right cheek that popped up both when she smiled and when she bit her lip in concentration, and her body? Long, thick legs leading up to thicker thighs, nice ass, humongous breasts. My whole damn body reacted to the mere memory of her body, her taste, her scent…
My eyes fell on the panties sitting on my desk as I slid my hand to my crotch and glanced at my cell phone. I pressed a button to check the time on the lock screen. 7:00 AM. Was it too early to call her? Shit, it was. It definitely was. I tended to jump out of bed early to get my day started, a morning person since forever. But she was probably getting ready for work or already at work or at someone’s house working her magic.
Believe in Me (Strickland Sisters Book 2) Page 4
