by Tina Martin
Sherita glanced over at Desmond, seeing something akin to frustration on his face as he navigated the dark streets. He said the dinner went well, but he didn’t seem happy about it. In fact, he looked bothered. Did he not get what he wanted?
CHAPTER 19
At home now, they both emerged from the jeep at the same time, and Desmond followed Sherita to the door. As he did, he thought about her lips on his, their mouths fusing together and how good it felt to feel her hands against his face. He was right about her before. She was his weakness. Even after he’d tried several techniques to fight his yearning for her, it remained.
He unlocked the door, opened it for her and allowed her to walk in first.
Before heading to her private quarters, she said, “Well, have a good night, Desmond.”
Desmond said nothing. He just stood there, staring at her. He even watched her walk away until she was no longer in sight before heading upstairs to his bedroom. He quickly undressed, stepped into the shower hoping to relax himself a bit, only it didn’t do a thing to erase the memory of kissing Sherita. And then he remembered how she grabbed his hand, interlocked their fingers and rubbed her nose along the backside of his hand, before leaving kisses there. She had the upper hand at dinner, another thing he didn’t like. So after sliding into a white T-shirt and a pair of black boxers, he decided to pay her a visit. He glanced at the clock. It was a few minutes after eleven. They’d just arrived home thirty minutes ago. She couldn’t be asleep that quickly.
He jogged downstairs, then walked down the hallway that led to the studio apartment. He knocked, then waited.
A few moments later, Sherita opened the door, surprised to see him standing there. “Hey.”
His eyes briefly roamed her body, loving the powder-pink, silk tank top and shorts she had on, exposing the length of her legs. She’d gathered her hair into a ponytail, and he imagined she did that every night before bed. “Can I come in?”
“It’s your house,” she responded curtly.
She headed down the stairs again, returning to the sofa where she had been watching TV with her legs extended.
Desmond sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, looking down at her feet. They almost touched him. He wouldn’t mind if they did.
Taking the remote from the couch and powering off the TV, Sherita glared at Desmond and said, “You know I think I did a pretty good job tonight, and you didn’t even say thank you. And to think…you lectured me about manners because I didn’t thank you for buying me a cup of coffee, but I marry you and put on this grand performance at dinner and you haven’t said thank you not even once, Desmond. You were tight-lipped all the way home and, even when I told you to have a good night when we got here, you said nothing. Absolutely nothing. What gives?”
Desmond stared at her for a long while, feeling emotions he’d never felt before. “I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t.”
“What does that mean? Any other time, you have plenty to say.”
“You’re right,” he admitted.
“So why didn’t you have anything to say then?”
“Because all I could do, at that moment, was feel.”
“Feel what?” Sherita asked, pulling her legs in, away from him.
“The way your soft hands felt against my face, tonight. The way your lips felt against mine. I’ve been thinking about it on the way home, and I’m curious…was it all an act?”
“You mean the things we did at dinner?”
“More like the things you did to me, but yes, was it an act?”
“You tell me, Desmond, since you said you were learning me…said you were studying my thought process and could…wait, let me get this right…decipher my thoughts and know what I was thinking without having to say a word, right? So tell me…do you think it was all an act?”
“No, I don’t. You were too into me for it to be an act. Am I right?”
Sherita smiled. He was right. All of it hadn’t been an act. She didn’t want to admit that to Emily and Melanie, but she would admit it to Desmond. “Yes. You’re right.”
Relieved, Desmond asked, “So tell me the parts that were real.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know.”
Sherita’s cheeks reddened. “Ugh…this is so embarrassing,” she mumbled.
Desmond scooted closer to her. “No it’s not. Tell me,” he said softly.
“Okay…umm…” She covered her face with her hands, hiding her shame.
Desmond dropped to his knees in front of her, wrapping his hands around her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face. “Tell me.”
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. Barely looking at him, she began, “When I said you were the most handsome man I’ve ever seen…that was true. When I grabbed your hands and played with them, that was real. I’ve always found a man’s hands to be the sexiest part of his body, and your hands are big and strong. I always wanted to play with them.”
Odd, he thought, but for the moment, he’d take what he could get. “And what about the kiss?”
A small smile touched her lips. “I didn’t want the kiss to end.”
“Neither did I,” he said, trying to catch her fleeting eyes. He lowered his hands to her thighs. Palmed them. “Sherita.”
Sherita trembled when she felt his hands rest on her thighs. But her nerves didn’t prevent her from layering her hands on top of his – didn’t prevent her from gazing into his eyes the moment she felt him flip his hands over and interlock their fingers.
“You like playing with my hands, huh?” he asked, softly.
She looked at him, seeing his eyes darken, watching as desire swirled in them. Again, she looked away, focusing on his hands as they rested in her lap. “Yes.”
Desmond pulled his right hand away from hers, tilting her chin up with a slight touch of his index finger so their eyes connected again and said, “Well, I’m right here now, Sherita. Play with me.”
Sherita felt herself become weak when he leaned forward to kiss her lips, taking small pecks from them before deepening the kiss, taking it up a notch from what she had started in the restaurant, only this time, she wasn’t in control. She would never be in control again unless he wanted her to be.
A moan escaped her throat when she felt his hands brush against the sides of her face and on to her hair where he pulled the barrette from her hair, grabbing handfuls of her glory when it fell free.
“Mmm,” he breathed when he felt her legs wrap around his torso. All the built-up tension he’d hidden away for ignoring her for so long was slowly being released with each ragged breath. How he found the strength to pull away from her had been beyond him. “Sherita.”
“Yes?” she said in a breathless whisper.
“Do you want this?” He swallowed hard. “Because if you do, you need to know that this won’t go any further than tonight.”
Holding his gaze, Sherita grabbed his shirt from both sides and pulled it over his head and their lips slammed together again. No, she wasn’t okay with his statement. Desmond was a handsome, smart, intelligent man, and any woman would want to have him for a husband. And though she did marry him, she knew it wasn’t the real thing – the traditional marriage of a man falling in love with a woman and then proposing to her. Desmond wasn’t the kind of man who was capable of love. Seemed those were the only types of men she attracted. She’d given up on meeting a man who would want her and love her unconditionally. Some women just weren’t lucky enough to find that man.
Desmond’s hands traveled up her camisole, feeling her body jerk with his touch, and he watched her nibble on her bottom lip, bat her eyes softly and grimace just slightly. He slowly pulled her shirt up over her head and after his eyes had roamed her chest, he kissed her again, savoring her lips, drowning his hands in her luxurious strands.
With little effort, he stood up while their mouths were still connected, her legs still wrapped around his torso, and walked over to the bed.
She gas
ped when her eyes navigated his firm body, taking in the sight of all of him. Lean. Muscular. Perfect. She was thoroughly impressed by his incredible male physique.
Desmond crawled on top of her with ease, lowering his body to hers, taking her lips again. He scarfed down her moans as quickly as the steak he’d eaten for dinner tonight. But he would enjoy this so much more.
“Why do I make you so nervous, Sherita?” he whispered before rolling his tongue around on her neck, feeling her quiver. And that’s exactly what he wanted to feel.
Deciding to answer honestly, she said, “Because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a man.”
“Is that right?” he asked, feeling a stinging pain in his heart. That wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, and he didn’t want to feel anything in his heart. He’d mastered the ability not to involve his heart when it came to women, so why did her response bother him?
“Yes,” she said, trembling nervously. “Everything.”
Desmond frowned. If she really felt this way, and by the look on her face, he was sure she did, he didn’t want to go any further. She couldn’t attach her emotions to something that wouldn’t last. He didn’t want to hurt her. So, giving her an out, he said, “Then maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Because I told you before, Sherita…I can’t give you what you want…what you deserve and—”
“Right now, all I want is you, Desmond.”
He swallowed hard again. Everything inside of him told him not to do this. That she deserved more than what he could give, than what he was willing to give, but he couldn’t deny the way she felt – skin-to-skin with him – for the first time. He’d dreamed about countless times and now, it was happening.
“Okay,” he said softly, kissing her again before connecting their souls. Slowly. Methodically. Unhurriedly. Descending deep into her depths, he felt a sign of her innocence and how in an instant, he’d taken it away from her.
His body went completely still.
Sherita opened her eyes to look at him. She knew why he’d stopped but, from the expression on his face, she couldn’t tell if he was shocked or disappointed.
A mixture of sadness and fear clouded his features. “Sherita?”
“Yes,” she said in an exhale.
“Why didn’t you tell me, princess?” he asked her. She’d given him something he didn’t earn. Something he could never give back.
“I didn’t want to,” she answered.
“Are you o—”
“I’m fine, Desmond. Just kiss me.”
So he did. Desmond forced disappointment away from his face, taking her slowly. Carefully. He didn’t want her first time to be associated with pain. He wanted her to be pleased with this experience. He wanted her to be okay. Needed her to be. She was his soul mate. His wife. As much as he told himself their marriage was strictly business, he couldn’t deny the title was wearing on him.
Their eyes connected for a second before she squeezed hers shut, holding on tightly to him.
What a beauty, Desmond thought, eyes widening to take her all in. Her hair was wildly splayed over the pillow underneath her head. Desmond watched the beautiful anguish wash over her face, saw a single tear roll from both eyes and felt her body tremor against his.
He kissed her again, slammed his eyes closed and joined her in a grand ecstasy, their moans connecting in the open air, as closely as their bodies.
“Are you okay?” he asked her while steadily catching his own breath.
“Yes,” she said barely above a whisper.
He grimaced. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Desmond. I’m sure.”
“Then why are you crying, Sherita? I…I tried my best not to hurt you, baby.”
Sherita’s lips trembled. He didn’t hurt her physically, but emotionally, she was a wreck. He told her right out the gate that this would be all they would share. She’d agreed to it, but now, she wished she hadn’t.
“Sherita.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” she told him. “I’m just emotional, I guess.”
“Don’t cry,” he said. He laid next to her, pulling her into his arms.
“You don’t have to hold me.” She sniffled. “I know this is probably not something you would normally do.”
“It’s not.”
“Then don’t do it for me.”
“I want to,” he said, running his fingers through her hair.
She was sleeping.
With the help of the hint of light from the water display, Desmond watched her rest, watched her chest rise gently and fall as softly as a leaf, descending patiently to the ground. Her tears were gone. With the slightest movement of his finger, he raked her hair away from her face so he could see her.
Her lips were parted, just slightly, and he remembered how he had kissed those lips an hour ago – how sweet noise had left from between those lips when she called out his name. And he’d kissed her nose, branded her neck and made her his for a couple of hours.
He said he didn’t want to hurt her, but he realized he had already done so, as evident by the tears that sprung out of her eyes. After all, she did admit he was everything she wanted in a man.
Desmond took a tender kiss from her lips, before brushing another kiss across her temple. She was everything he wanted in a woman, but he wasn’t ready for any type of commitment. As he told her – tonight would be all they would have. He wasn’t sure how he was going to push this to the back of his mind and move on with life, but he would. He had to.
He eased out of the bed then pulled up a sheet over her, taking one final look at her as she slept peacefully. Grabbing his T-shirt and boxers from the floor, he retreated upstairs, taking a bottle of water from the refrigerator then continued up to the second floor to his bedroom. He glanced at the clock: 1:54 a.m. He slid into his boxers, chugged the bottle of water then laid on his bed, face up in the dark room. He had to be at the office bright and early in the morning. Concentrating on work would help him to stay away from Sherita and keep her out of his thoughts. That was a good thing. As it was, he was feeling things for her he’d never felt for any other woman. It would take a special effort to avoid her, especially since she was so close to the family. Somehow, he’d find a way to keep her at a safe distance. No woman could have his heart. Not even her.
CHAPTER 20
Two Weeks Later
“I have to give credit where credit is due, Des. You knocked this one out of the park,” Dimitrius said, looking over at Desmond.
Desmond cracked a half smile. “Thanks, Dimitrius.”
Desmond had spent the last two weeks focused on work. Just like he told Sherita, that one night was all they had, and he was back to his normal routine. In fact, the last time they’d interacted was the night he made love to her. Occasionally, he would glance out of the window to see her leaving the house, or coming in, but other than that, their paths hadn’t crossed. He stayed busy working at home and at the office.
Still, that didn’t mean he could forget her – forget the way she felt in his arms. The way she touched him, kissed him and willingly gave him the gift of her. He’d spent many nights resisting the urge to jog downstairs and see her. Many nights staring up at the ceiling. Many nights worried when her car wasn’t in the driveway at, what he deemed, a decent hour. Many nights thinking if he could handle another man stepping into the picture – giving her all the things he had refused to.
So, he poured himself into his job. Not only had his brief visit to New York City sealed the deal with Bell-Butler Group, he had just presented the first stage of the marketing campaign with the team, Victor included, for Victor’s new company, Service Swap. Afterwards, Victor and Kurt left Dante’s office, and only the brothers remained.
“I agree.” Dante said. “You’ve outdone yourself as always, Des.”
“That’s what I do. I get things done,” Desmond said. He glanced at his watch. It was close to eight o’clock in the evening. For a sp
lit second, he wondered if Sherita was home. And if she was, what was she doing? He blinked the thought away from his mind then said, “Hey, we should grab a drink and celebrate?”
Anything to avoid going home and running into Sherita.
It was hard enough walking away from her two weeks ago, the morning after they’d been intimate. He thought of that night often. He remembered how tears fell from her eyes, how tightly she’d held on to him and how beautiful her face was as she slept. He missed her, but knew he couldn’t be with her, at least not the way she wanted him to be.
Now that the first stage of the marketing plan had been completed, he needed to find more work to occupy his time. In roughly four months when their services for Victor would be complete, Sherita would be moving out, and his life would return to normal.
“I’m down to get a drink,” Dimitrius said.
Desmond looked at Dante. “What about you, Dante?”
Dante looked up from some papers he’d been engrossed in and said, “What’s up?”
“We’re going to go grab a drink,” Desmond said. “You coming with us?”
“No. I can’t. Emily’s meeting a new supplier at nine and I’m actually leaving right now to get Ezra.”
“Why can’t Emily get Sherita to watch Ezra?” Dimitrius inquired.
“Sherita has a date. She couldn’t do it.”
Desmond felt his stomach twist to the point that he felt like leaning forward to steady himself. The frown on his forehead was deep and filled with as much rage as the anger protruding from his eyes. “What do you mean Sherita has a date?” he asked before he realized it.
His brothers looked at him with inquisitive eyes, wondering why he cared. He made it clear to both of them that he didn’t like Sherita, so why was he inquiring of her plans?
“Emily said she was out with some guy…Thane somebody,” Dante said opening his briefcase, dropping a folder in it. “Anyway, I have to roll. Later fellas. Lock my door on the way out.”
