Fall In Love Again (Serendipitous Love Book 3)

by Christina C Jones

  So I did.

  About twenty minutes and two drinks later, I was glad I did, because apparently she and Trent had gotten past whatever issue they had, and were cuddled into a booth, with his hands all over her.

  Shaking my head, I stood up from my seat at the bar, intending to head home. There was no point in sitting here watching Charlie get felt up. I really didn’t even wanna be in the same room as that shit. It exponentially increased the likelihood that I might actually punch ole boy’s lights out.

  Before I could get out the door, I bumped into Roman.

  “You heading out man?” He asked, extending his fist.

  I returned his gesture as I nodded. “Yeah, man. Gotta go sleep off this liquor, then start looking over the books for this quarter. Gotta stay on top of it.”

  Sucking air between his teeth, Roman shook his head. “Who you telling, bruh? I’m gonna be on the same thing here soon. Hey, I’m gonna hit you up at some point this week to talk about those renovations man. We’ve gotta get the rest of the block on board so we can get this done before something stupid happens.”

  “I’m ready when you are, Rome. It’s these other knuckleheads…”

  “I know. We’ll work it out though. I’ll catch you later man.”

  “Aiight. See you.”

  Urban Grind was right next to Pot Liquor, so it took me no time to get to my apartment over the restaurant. Even once I’d showered and climbed into bed, I still couldn’t sleep. I’d invested a good amount into soundproofing so I wouldn’t be bothered by noise pollution, but the dull, thumping beat from UG — which didn’t usually trouble me — made relaxation impossible tonight.

  Or maybe it was the image of Trent with a handful of Charlie’s ass playing in my head.

  In any case, sleep eluded me, so I threw on some clothes and headed downstairs, using my private entrance to get into the restaurant. In my office, I went to work, pulling up expense reports, invoices, and inventory, intending to spend an hour knocking out as much of our quarterly report as I could. This shit was guaranteed to make me want to close my eyes and pass out.

  I was nearing the end of my hour when I heard something coming from the kitchen. I knew the doors were still locked tight from earlier, and I hadn’t used the front entrance, so… what the hell? I got up from the desk and stepped out of the office, looking around to see where the noise was coming from.

  If it was robbers, unless they were into commercial kitchen supplies, groceries, or dining chairs, there wasn’t anything of value in Pot Liquor for them to steal. Vandals weren’t usually a problem in the neighborhood, but they could certainly get their asses kicked toni—

  “Charlie?”

  As I turned the corner into the prep area, she looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes. She averted her gaze, then went back to her task of… chopping vegetables. I approached her slowly — because she was kinda obviously tipsy, with a big knife in her hand — placing a hand on her back as I moved to stand beside her. She’d put on a chef’s coat over her clothes, and once I was at the counter with her, I realized that she was chopping ingredients for the veggie omelet I’d watched her make hundreds of times.

  “Hungry?” I asked, turning opposite to her as I leaned against the metal counter, so I could see her face.

  She nodded, but didn’t look up. “And tired, and pissed, and… stupid.”

  I lifted an eyebrow, then reached forward to cup her chin, turning her to face me. “Explain.”

  Shaking her head, she pulled away from my hand and went back to cutting up peppers. “I… was watching Viv and Carter together tonight, and they were so happy and in love. And I was watching Roman and Simone together, and they were so happy and in love. And then I look at myself, and Trent is groping me, and I’m telling myself that it’s fine, that I’m supposed to like it, because we’re dating, and touching is supposed to happen, but I’d really rather just have a glass of water instead. You know? It’s like… I don’t understand why I can’t have that too, you know? I mean… you and I had that for a while, and then we fucked it all up. And now I’m thirty-three years old, broke, with a “boyfriend” that annoys the shit out of me, and a failed marriage. To a criminal. I am losing at this whole “love” thing, I tell you. And now I’m old, and a failure, and getting fat, and I can’t even seem to have a…”

  Charlie tossed the knife down onto the cutting board as her voice broke, and she stepped away from the counter. She tried, unsuccessfully to stem her tears with the backs of her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said, sniffling as she finally looked my way again. “I’m a mess. Ranting, and crying… I probably look like a crazy person.”

  I chuckled, stepping away from the counter myself to wrap her into an embrace. “It’s not the ranting and crying that makes you look crazy, baby. The tipsy, midnight vegetable chopping in heels does that.”

  She broke into laughter, snuggling her face into my chest as I pulled her tighter. I didn’t care that she was getting my shirt all snotty.

  “Hey,” I said, drawing back so I could see her face. She looked up at me with glossy eyes… fucking gorgeous, even when she was crying. “You’re not stupid. And you’re not a failure. And you’re not old. And you’re for damn sure not fat. Stop beating yourself up like this. Maybe your life isn’t the way you want it right now, but so what? That doesn’t mean it never will be. I mean… my life isn’t the way I want it, but you don’t see me crying about it.”

  Charlie scoffed, her eyebrows lifted in disbelief as she gently pushed her way out of my arms. “Oh, please Nix. You’re a man who’s attractive, successful, and single.”

  “I could say the same for you, attractive, successful single woman.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “How so?”

  She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Nobody really expects you to be settled by now. You have a good seven years, until you’re forty. Then people start looking at you sideways. You’re not…missing anything, I am.”

  “Who says I’m not missing anything?”

  Sucking her teeth, Charlie gave me a derisive grin. “Oh please. Tell me Nix, what are you missing?”

  “You.”

  Her eyes went wide, lips parted as I held her gaze. She just… stayed there, as if she was stuck, until her chest heaved a little and a fresh round of tears filled her eyes. Finally, she tore her gaze away, not turning her face, but shifting her eyes, with a suddenly renewed interest in the chopped vegetables on the table.

  “Yeah right.”

  My eyebrows shot up. Had I heard that correctly? Was she still doubting that?

  “Yeah,” I said, taking a step toward her. “Right.”

  She backed away from me until she couldn’t anymore, held in place by the cold metal edge of the counter. “Charlie… you say that you want the kind of love you see in Viv and Carter, in Roman and Simone… baby, it’s right in front of you.” She started to shake her head, but I held up a hand. “I know. I know. I fucked up back then. I know. But I’m telling you… I learned so much from that mistake. Those mistakes. You meant everything to me, and you… still. You still do.”

  I leaned down to rest my forehead against hers as a few tears escaped her eyes. She met my gaze again, with a somber smile. “Nix… you’ve been drinking.”

  “So? I’m not drunk. Well… I’m maybe a little drunk.”

  “Me too,” she giggled, finally breaking into a smile.

  I raised my hands to wipe her tears away with my thumbs. “I want you so badly right now.”

  She bit her lip, flicking her eyes away again for a second before she brought them back. “Me too.”

  So I kissed her.

  She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around my neck as I pulled her closer, tasting and savoring the sweetness of her lips. She parted them, inviting me to explore her further, to deepen the kiss, to lose myself right there, letting her essence cloud my senses.

  But I wasn’t lost.

  I was right there in the
moment with her, nourishing myself with her energy. A week had passed since that kiss in her apartment, and I felt like I’d been starving since then, just waiting for another chance to indulge in her.

  One by one, I undid the buttons of her chef coat, then slipped my hands inside and under her blouse. I groaned against her mouth, deepening the kiss as the feeling of her warm, soft skin made my appetite for her even worse. She whimpered as my fingers skimmed the soft lace of her bra, and that sexy little sound was my tipping point. I pulled away, and looked her right in the eyes.

  “Come upstairs with me.”

  She swallowed hard, looking slightly dazed as she considered my request.

  Don’t say no. Don’t say no. Don’t say no.

  “… Yes.”

  — & —

  Charlie had on too many clothes.

  That was my first thought, once I got her beyond the door to the apartment, and into the bedroom. I had pulled her in there with me, dimming the lights and putting something slow and sexy on in the background before I sat down on the edge of the bed, motioning for her to stand between my legs. She kicked off her shoes, slowly stripped out of her clothes while I watched, and stayed where she was, not saying anything, but still somehow begging to be touched.

  But I didn’t.

  I wouldn’t, not until I’d studied every inch of her magnificently curvy body in the lowered light, taking my visual fill before I ventured toward a psychical touch.

  “Nixon…” she whispered, biting her lip as she shifted on her feet. “What are you doing?”

  Meeting her eyes, I noticed that they were glossy again, like she was just on the verge of tears. “I’m just… looking at you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re beautiful. Because you’re sexy.”

  “… Oh.”

  I smiled. This was the Charlie I remembered. Full of confidence, but so devoid of conceit that she forgot the affect she could have on a man. Especially like this, bare faced, natural curls, stripped down to nothing… exquisitely sensual, without even trying.

  “Come here.”

  This time, she obliged, but she did it unhurriedly, taking her sweet, sexy time to come to me. When she stepped between my legs, I moved my hands, running them up the backs of her thighs to reach her ass. I squeezed her there, then continued my exploration, skimming my fingers over the soft, flat plane of her stomach, then ran my thumbs underneath her breasts.

  She lowered her mouth, and I gave her what she wanted, fingering the soft curls at the nape of her neck while I kissed her — a slow, hungry kiss, full of the passion I’d been saving up for five long years. The kind of kiss I could only give her.

  I looked up at her, observing the expression on her face as she watched my fingers trace her areolas, noting her sharp intake of breath as she waited for me to touch her pretty, dark-copper nipples.

  She whimpered as I tipped my head forward, pressing soft kisses under her breasts, on them, beside them, between them, everywhere except those hardened peaks as they strained and hardened, begging for attention. She cupped the back of my head, trying to guide me where she wanted me, and letting out a frustrated groan when I wouldn’t let her have control.

  “Nix, please,” she said, a breathless plea that I couldn’t have ignored if I wanted to.

  The gasp she let out when my tongue touched the outside edge of her nipple sent a fresh wave of blood rocketing to my groin, making me harder than I already was. She pressed herself forward as I covered the peak with my mouth, lapping it with my tongue before I focused my attention on the other side.

  “Like this?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer before giving her a gentle suck. “Or like this?” That time, I sucked harder, and she crawled into my lap, pressing her hands against my head to keep me in place.

  Guess that’s my answer.

  So I did that again, moving back and forth, until the soft, sexy sounds she was making weren’t enough. I needed more.

  I cupped the nape of her neck, pulling her down into a kiss as I slipped my hand between her legs. As soon as my fingers made contact with her slickened flesh, I groaned into her ear. “Why are you so perfect?” I asked, sliding and exploring her as I gently tugged her earlobe between my teeth. “Always so fucking wet.”

  Her only response was a moan of pleasure as I pushed inside of her, using my thumb to tease her clit as I plunged further, searching for a spot that I remembered well. She arched her back, rolling and moving her hips, lips parted in a soundless cry of bliss as I found the spot and concentrated there. I teased and massaged, pushing her further and further toward the edge until her body tensed, and she buried her face in my neck as she came.

  We stayed like that for a few moments, until the decline in her heart rate told me she’d caught her breath. I pulled my hand from between her legs, taking a moment to lick her honeyed juices from my fingers, which she watched through sex-heavied eyelids.

  “Still as sweet as I remember,” I told her, just before I kissed her again, then flipped her on her back and spread her legs.

  Have mercy.

  Seeing her like this, wet, and ready, with her already kiss-swollen lips begging to be kissed again, was a picture so erotic I had to close my eyes for a second and pull myself together. I toed off my shoes and socks, pulled my tee shirt over my head, and yanked off my sweats and boxers in one swipe. Moving her up, I positioned myself between her legs, then leaned in to take her mouth again.

  We were long past the exploratory kisses of new lovers. Now, it was about fulfilling a need, and I needed Charlie like I needed water and air. The next few kisses were wild, ravenous, clumsy ones, before I moved away to place those same kinds of kisses on her neck.

  I plunged my fingers into her again, stroking her until her legs began to tremble before I lowered my head between her supple thighs. I inhaled deep, breathing in the intoxicatingly sweet scent of her sex, then finally covered her with my mouth.

  Charlie’s hands slipped over my head, dragging handfuls of my hair between her fingers and I kissed and licked her lips down there, flicking my tongue over the sensitive flesh of her clit before I gently pulled it into my mouth. I stayed down there, with her thighs locked around my neck, until I got my wish of her squirming, screaming my name, and coming hard as her body quaked, covering my face in what I referred to affectionately as her icing.

  “Nix,” she said, pushing out my name in a shaky breath.

  “Yeah baby?” I asked, positioning myself over her.

  “Now.”

  Who was I to argue with that?

  I buried myself inside of her, releasing a harsh groan as she surrounded me in wetness and warmth. I gripped her thighs, pulling her closer so I could plunge deeper as she pushed her hips upward, meeting my strokes with eager movements of her own.

  Goddamn.

  This was… heaven.

  This was home.

  It was almost… surreal, having her here with me again, when the last night we’d spent here together was five years ago. But she was back.

  Like the songs — and the old folks said — I loved her, so I let her go, and she was back.

  She pulsed around me, getting hotter and wetter with every stroke, every kiss on her neck, every caress of her breasts, every grope of her ass. Her whimpers, moans, coos, and purrs made me drive deeper, and harder, letting her know that she was mine, and this time, I wasn’t letting her go.

  Cause she came back.

  Myth or not, I was holding on to that as my sign that it was meant to be.

  I lowered my mouth to her neck as she hooked her legs around my back, kissing, licking, and then finally sucking the spot that I knew from experience would take her into an orgasm that was on a whole other, unearthly plane. She gasped, gripping my head to hold me there as her body began to shake.

  “Nix, Nix, Nix,” she whimpered repeatedly, her mouth pressed against my ear. “I… I…” she pulled back, looking me right in the eyes as she tensed, “I love you,�
� she said, her voice raspy with pleasure as she came, squeezing her eyes tight as her body milked me into an explosion of my own.

  We collapsed together, out of breath and out of energy. I summoned just enough to pull her against my chest and cover us up, wrapping her in my arms before I lowered my mouth to her ear to tell her the words I’d been waiting five years to say again. Not just I love you, but…

  “I love you too, Beautiful.”

  eleven.

  charlie.

  Macaroni and cheese.

  I smiled a little as I traced the tiny, infinity shaped cheese just above Nixon’s hip. It was in the same spot that the infinity-shaped macaroni shells were on me. That was a crazy, silly night. I couldn’t even blame it on being drunk, but we were certainly high. Off each other, off love, off life…off the lease we’d signed earlier in the day, for the building that housed our baby.

  We were two years into our relationship by then, and “mac & cheese forever” just… made perfect, stupid sense to us. We spent the year after that working and sleeping, getting the restaurant opened. The next two years were beautiful. Still a lot of working, but a little less sleep, so we could be sure to make time for each other.

  The year after that was the one that broke us.

  The memory made me pull my hand away from him.

  I was laying here in Nix’s bed reminiscing, as if last night hadn’t been full of the exact mistakes I didn’t want to make. As if I hadn’t just burdened myself with a heap of new complications.

  Like telling Nixon that I loved him.

  It’s not as if it wasn’t true. I was past the point of denying those feelings, because truthfully, I don’t know that I ever stopped. But what point did it serve for him to know such a thing when I had no plans of going back there with him again? Ever. At least not while I could remember what it felt like to pull that engagement ring off my finger and give it back.

  I felt like shit.