And when he’d finally found his release, when she’d screamed his name more times than he could count, he rolled off her, pulling her body close to his and finally breathed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Chapter 8
“Tell you what?” Belinda asked as she attempted to roll away from him. Apparently that wasn’t part of the sexual ritual, because Malik quickly grabbed her around the waist, pulling her backside up against his front.
“Don’t do that,” he said, his lips close to her ear. “Don’t run. It’s a little too late for that.”
“I’m going to the bathroom,” she replied, even though every part of her screamed for her to run as fast and as far as she possibly could.
“Belinda.” He said her name as if it frustrated him. “There are a couple things I ask of women I’m involved with. One is honesty.”
“What’s the other?” she asked out of curiosity.
“Exclusivity, but I’m almost certain that isn’t a problem with you. Especially knowing what I now know.”
Belinda took a deep breath. He was right, running was not an option. It was best to deal with this situation the same way she’d dealt with all the others in her life—head-on, with the cool demeanor she was known for.
“Yes, you were my first so it’s apparent I’m not the sleep-around type.”
“I never would have guessed I’d be your first.”
“I distinctly remember saying you don’t know everything about me.” She tried to move again, figuring she’d told him what he wanted to know.
“Still trying to run?”
Belinda sighed. Really, it wasn’t that she was trying to run. She did have to go to the bathroom and she wanted a moment alone to really experience what they’d just done. Truth be told, it was amazing. More amazing than she had anticipated, and yet there was something she knew instinctively was missing.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she told him.
“That’s fair,” he said, releasing her. “I’ll be here when you return.”
He would. She knew it even as she decided how to hold the sheet over her body and slip from the bed. Her robe hung on the back of her bedroom door and she crossed the room quickly to obtain it, before heading to the bathroom. Malik would not slip into his clothes and leave her for the night, like she’d heard happened after many one-night stands. How she knew this about Malik, Belinda wasn’t totally sure. This was a side of him she had no clue about.
By the time she’d taken care of her personal needs and resigned herself to going back out into the bedroom, she was feeling pretty damn good about her decision. She’d slept with Malik Anthony and she was happy about that.
He went into the bathroom immediately after her, which gave her time to pick up her clothes and place them in the hamper. She folded his and put them on the lounge chair near the window. They smelled like him, strong and masculine was the scent of his cologne. Her fingers were still lingering over the material when he came out.
“You okay?” he asked.
She turned to see he was still completely naked. It was a pleasant shock, one she figured most new lovers shared. Lovers? The thought warmed her. But was that what she’d wanted out of all this? Her initial thought had just been to go for something she’d never experienced, to do something her parents would most likely disagree with, and with someone they didn’t know. When she decided Malik would be the one, long term hadn’t occurred to her at all. So she wasn’t prepared to discuss it. That was totally unlike her.
“I’m good,” was her reply.
His smile was slow and sexy and solicited the appropriate response from her now hardening nipples.
“I can now attest to that,” he told her as he moved closer. “But there’s something bothering you. I can tell because you get that little dimple between your brows when you’re in deep thought or trying to figure something out.”
Belinda purposely relaxed, hoping that dimple that she knew for a fact was there—because he was right again, dammit—would disappear.
“I have a lot on my mind what with the competition and the charity auction next weekend.”
“What charity auction?” he asked as he came to stand beside her. He lifted her hands from his clothes, bringing them to his lips for a light kiss. Then he led her to the bed. He sat, pulling her down beside him.
Clearly, he was used to walking around naked. She wondered how many women had been blessed enough to see this sight. Then she forced herself to forget that thought. It was way too unsettling.
“The NAACP, or should I say Daisy Drayson-Jones’s charity event of the year. My mother acts like this is her personal event.”
“Yeah, I remember Drake saying something about that now. It’s supposedly a really big deal. You know that congressman we did the baby shower cake for the other day? He and his wife are attending and donated some artwork for the auction.”
“How do you know all that?”
Malik shook his head. “I’m a people person. People tell me all kinds of stuff,” he said with a smile. “When his assistant came in to place the order, she asked if your mother was any relation to ‘the’ Lillian Drayson. When I told her she was, she talked even more.”
“I’m sure she just wanted to keep you talking. Your people skills were probably on full blast,” she said in a tone she thought sounded a little jealous. So she followed up with a little chuckle.
“Just doing the customer service thing,” he replied. “So what do you have to do for the auction? Are you baking something?”
“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “Life couldn’t be that easy. Not for me anyway. No, my mother just wants me to show up, look impeccable and have a date that looks the same.”
“I see.”
“No. You don’t.” Belinda sighed. “That’s all everyone sees is me looking impeccable. Me doing the right thing. Me being in the right place with the right person at the right time. It’s to the point where I’m sick of being me!”
“Been there, done that.”
His reply was said so matter-of-factly, so simply, Belinda had to look at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Everybody wanted me to be a basketball star. My mom wanted it since the first time I picked up a ball. She took me everywhere she could so I could be seen by who she thought were important people. And when she married Geoff and we moved to a better neighborhood, she figured my chances were even better. I was groomed to play in the NBA. Not that that was a bad thing. Not until one day, when I couldn’t play anymore.”
“That must have been hard for you,” she replied honestly and felt like her own complaint may have been a bit on the selfish and immature side compared to what Malik had suffered.
“Life’s hard, Belinda. I learned that when I realized I was the only kid on the block with no father in the house. When I watched my mother work two and sometimes three jobs, hustling me from one friend’s house to another, all so she could keep a roof over our heads and make sure I had good shoes to play in. The key is just to keep moving.”
“I keep moving. It just seems like I’m going in the same circle, though. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. I love my family and I love the bakery. I’m just afraid that at the end of the day—” She paused and put down her head.
Malik brushed back her hair, tucking it behind her ear and cupping her cheek. “What are you afraid of, Belinda?”
She looked at him and voiced the concern that had plagued her for...she wasn’t sure how long.
“I’m afraid none of that stuff will ever really love me back.”
His kiss this time was different. Instead of being packed with desire and passion—which were still there in small measure—it was softer, slower, as if trying to convince her of something. Belinda leaned into the kiss, let her hands fall on his shoulders in an attempt to remain steady. But that was a futile attempt as powerful as Malik’s kisses seemed to be with her.
Pulling back, he rested his forehead against hers as t
hey both struggled to catch their breath. “Stuff doesn’t love you back, Belinda,” he told her seriously. “But people can, if you open yourself up to receive it.”
The words made sense but the concept was foreign to her. With the exception of her family, Belinda had never loved a man and never hoped a man could really love her. How could he when the woman he saw was the one she constantly pretended to be?
“It’s late,” Malik said, interrupting her thoughts. He was already moving, adjusting them beneath the covers that before had been ruffled by their lovemaking. “Let’s get some sleep. Everything will look better in the morning.”
Belinda was tired, her mind still reeling with what they’d done, wondering if there would be repercussions. As she lay back tucked snugly in Malik’s arm, the side of her body pressed warmly against his, she let his words sink in. They reminded her of something her grandmother always said. Joy will come in the morning. Belinda hoped so, because for too long, joy seemed to have purposely evaded her.
Chapter 9
Belinda bolted straight up in the bed, her heart beating wildly, panic streaking through her body in stinging waves.
Beside her, Malik touched her arm. “What is it? Are you okay?”
She shook her head, scrambling across the bed in an attempt to get away from him.
He caught her by wrapping one strong arm around her waist, the other touching her shoulder, holding her still. “Belinda, calm down. It’s me, Malik.”
The sound of his voice, his name, and memories of their time together came flooding back. Yesterday she’d spent the entire day with Malik Anthony, watching him coach his young basketball team. It had been a day full of laughter and touching moments.
Then they’d come back to her place, she and Malik. He’d touched her and she’d felt empowered. She’d touched him and then...
And after all that, he was still here. The morning after, Malik was in her bed, once again holding her securely, safely.
She took a deep breath, let it out slowly and repeated the action again and again, until her heart slowed to a somewhat normal rhythm. The panic attack had come on quickly, sitting on her chest like a lead weight, threatening to smother her completely. But why? she thought, quickly looking around her room.
Everything looked the same. The two windows on the wall opposite the door were closed, locked. Her television was turned off, the lights, as well. The bathroom door was open because she wasn’t a big fan of closed doors besides the front one that should be locked and bolted. Her gaze dropped immediately to her alarm clock, her heart rate picking up slightly.
“It’s late,” she whispered.
His chin grazed her shoulder, warmth brushing her ear as he spoke. “No. It’s not. Your normal arrival time at the bakery is seven-thirty. It’s a quarter to six. The ride to work is about fifteen minutes from here.”
She was shaking her head. “My alarm is always set to go off at five-fifteen. I always get up at five-fifteen.”
He’d wrapped his arms around her now, holding her completely still.
“I turned it off. We were up so late last night, I thought you’d need all the sleep you could get before work this morning. It’s okay, baby. You won’t be late.”
His voice was so soft, so controlled. She didn’t understand why. If she was late getting up, he should be frantic, too, since he was also due at the bakery at seven.
“But we have orders and we’ll be late.”
“Shari’s on the early shift this week, Belinda. We can go in at seven-thirty and everything will be fine.”
“But—”
He cut her off by turning her slightly, taking her lips with his. Of course she couldn’t think with him kissing her. And of course her heart rate calmed as she was getting used to his voice and his touch. But still...
There was no time for buts as his kiss deepened and she fell slowly, irrevocably into Malik’s arms.
“Sweet, sexy Belinda,” he whispered softly before dropping light kisses down her neck until his lips once again found her breasts.
She loved the feel of his hands on each breast, the tightness with which he grabbed each once, squeezing until her nipples were rock hard. Then his mouth was over one nipple, his teeth grabbing the turgid bud and holding on tight, but not painfully so. Then his tongue took over, licking around her nipple, along the side swell of her breast and back to the nipple again.
Belinda’s breath now came in heavy pants as her fingers gripped his shoulders. Her center throbbed and ached.
Malik focused on her other breast now, soliciting a moan of approval from Belinda. When his other arm slid down her back to grip her bottom, she whispered his name. “Malik.”
“Yes, baby. I’m right here.”
And she was oh so glad he was here, right at this moment, doing exactly what he was doing.
When his hand came from around her buttocks to touch her tender folds she almost leaped off the bed, but he held her still. “I know, baby. It feels so good, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” she whimpered uncontrollably.
Everything he did felt good, every touch, every whisper... Dammit, his lips were no longer on her breasts. Malik had slid down her body so slowly, so seamlessly, Belinda had barely noticed. But now that he had both her legs scooped in his arms and had lowered his face so that his warm breath was blowing directly over that tightened nub of her center, she wanted to scream.
He licked that tight nub and she shivered all over. Another lick, then he sucked it completely into his mouth and the scream escaped. To hell with her neighbors and how early it was in the morning. She thought about being embarrassed by how loud she was, or how her legs shook as she panted, but she couldn’t. The sensations rippling through her at this moment were too intense to focus on anything else.
By the time Malik had once again sheathed his thick length and sank slowly into her waiting moistness, Belinda’s bones were so limp, her body so on fire for him she could have spontaneously combusted right at that moment.
This was slower and infinitely more potent than the quick, heated lovemaking they’d shared last night. His hips rocked against hers, planting him deeper, firmer into her center until Belinda began to feel like she’d been born with him just like this, connected to her forevermore.
“You feel so hot, so damn sexy, so right,” Malik murmured finally in her ear.
“So do you,” she admitted with her chin resting on his shoulder, her face thankfully facing away from him.
He felt good in her arms, so strong and toned, and he was here with her. Belinda was still having a hard time digesting that fact. Meanwhile she held on tight while he thrust deeper, pulled out then sank back in again. He filled her so completely, so thoroughly, and she enjoyed it. More than she could have ever possibly imagined.
“It seems like I’ve waited forever to have you like this,” Malik told her when he’d pulled back to look down at her, all the while still working his hips.
Belinda had no idea how he could concentrate on conversation at a time like this. Perspiration had begun to sheen their bodies even though they were moving slowly. Her breath was steady but still irregular. She wanted to close her eyes and focus only on the feeling of him, their connection, and what she would do when he finally left.
“Look at me, Belinda. Don’t think. Just look at me and feel,” he told her, leaning his face so close to hers his breath whispered along her damp skin.
She opened her eyes, stared directly into his and felt everything around her spiral out of control. “Malik,” she murmured.
“That’s right. It’s me. And you. We’re together and damn, it feels good.”
That was no lie. As a matter of fact, the sentiment should have been carved into a statue because she was almost certain sex would get no better than this.
“Yes,” she whispered. “It feels good.”
As if he were waiting for those words Malik’s entire body tensed over hers. Then his slow thrusts picked up pace as he pounded into her.
At first glance it would seem like the abrupt change of pace would be problematic. How very untrue. Belinda arched off the bed, moving her hips to match his rhythm, then Malik pulled one of her legs up to rest on his shoulder, letting him plunge even deeper into her. Yes, she thought, sex with Malik Anthony was one hell of a ride.
One Belinda hated to get off. But reality would almost always sink in.
* * *
Hours later, when Belinda was in her element—in the kitchen at the bakery—she pushed memories of the night and this morning with Malik out of her mind.
He’d thankfully been scarce around the bakery this morning. She actually hadn’t seen him since he’d left her apartment at six-thirty to head back to his place to change. It was now a little after eleven and she and Shari were the only ones in the kitchen. Belinda mixed batches of lemon pound-cake batter, which would make the poppy-seed pound cake that was a customer favorite, while Shari rolled out dough for the different-flavored turnovers for tomorrow. Much of their work was prep for the next day, as the bulk of the orders going out today were Carter’s. Any walk-ins would be handled by Shari and Belinda, while Malik had spent most of his time in the showroom, or at least that’s where Belinda suspected he was.
“I’ve laid out some plans for the competition,” Shari said, snapping Belinda out of her reverie.
“What? Strategic plans?”
“Yes. The theme is Around the World, so I’ve broken the different countries up and figured we could all specialize in one area, so we’re not spreading ourselves too thin. I have some design sketches I did over the weekend. We need to buckle down and get a game plan going, then start practicing. We have got to win this.”
Shari hadn’t looked up from rolling her dough but her voice seemed a little tense. “I agree this is an important competition, but I don’t think we need to obsess over it,” Belinda said slowly.
“What? Who’s obsessing? I’m just stating the facts. If we’re going to beat Dina and Brown Sugar Bakery, we’ve got to have our stuff together. Totally.”
Decadent Dreams (The Draysons: Sprinkled with Love) Page 9
