by Tina Martin
When Dante left the office, Dimitrius looked at Desmond and said, “We can still go if you want.”
“No. I have to run.”
Dimitrius smirked. “Okay. Later.”
Furious, Desmond jumped in his jeep and sped home. He was too jealous to think with a clear head. All he could think about was another man’s hands touching his woman.
His woman.
How could he even call her that after he told her they would never share anything more than one night? Then he avoided her for two weeks, making sure their paths didn’t cross. He hadn’t spoken to her, hadn’t seen her, hadn’t touched her for two weeks. What gave him a right to be angry if she decided to move on and date a man who would give her the time of day, no matter how trifling that man may have been?
When he turned into his driveway and didn’t see her car parked out front, he balled a fist and punched the steering wheel. Slamming the car in gear, he stormed into the house like a turbulent wind from the inner wall of a category F-5 tornado and headed for the studio apartment. He took his keys, unlocked the door, still smelling a hint of her perfume she’d left behind, probably while she was getting ready for her date with Thane. He walked to her bathroom, noticed makeup on the counter and a tube of red lipstick, the same kind she wore the night they’d met Victor for dinner. The kind she whispered in his ear that wouldn’t wear off. Why had she chosen to wear that particular lipstick tonight?
He was about to exit the bathroom when he saw something else – something that made his lips tremble. His nostrils flare. His blood boil. He saw her wedding ring on the counter. She’d taken it off. She’d removed the ring he’d given her before going on a date with another man. He picked it up and looked at it.
He swallowed hard. What if she was at Thane’s house right now? In his bed? He remembered Sherita telling him that Thane wanted her back. What if he’d convinced her their break-up had been a mistake, and he wanted to start over? And what if this was his fault? He’d slept with her and didn’t say anything to her for two weeks. So many thoughts were swirling around in his head, so much so he didn’t hear the heels of her shoes descending the stairs.
“What are you doing here?” Sherita asked, watching him stand there in the hallway near the bathroom, dressed in a gray business suit.
He looked up at her with glassy, jealous eyes, feeling his muscles tighten. She’d dressed up for that man? Really? She had worn her hair down, hanging loose and pretty around her feminine shoulders like he liked it. And she had on a red, strapless dress exposing her caramel skin and, on her lips, she wore that red, smudge-proof lipstick as he had suspected.
Pulse speeding, heartbeat pounding, he couldn’t find words at the moment. So, taking his attention away from her, he looked down at the ring, her ring, that he had in the palm of his hand. He walked over to the coffee table and placed it there.
She watched him place the ring on the table, saw the slow movements of his body, the melancholic expression on his face. Still near the stairs, she kicked off her stilettos and looked at him again. “What are you doing here, Desmond?” she asked walking pass the couch and on to the kitchen, taking a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
Swallowing a ball of anger down his throat, he asked, “Where were you tonight?”
Sherita took a sip of water. “Out.” She turned up the bottle to her mouth again.
“Where were you tonight, Sherita?” he asked again as if he hadn’t heard her response.
“Don’t worry about where I was,” she said, frowning. “I was out minding my own business.”
A vein nearly snapped in his neck. “See that’s your problem. You can’t discern when I’m joking and when I’m dead serious.”
“I really don’t care either way, Desmond. And why are you asking me where I was, like you have a right to know? According to the rules you laid out for our arrangement, you don’t get to ask me where I was, just like I don’t ask you about your whereabouts, remember?”
He did say that, didn’t he? Desmond took a few slow, intimidating steps towards her. “Where were you tonight, Sherita?”
She shrugged lazily. “Where were you for the last two weeks, Desmond?”
“I’ve been working,” he said, eerily calm. “Now answer my question.”
Sherita massaged her temples. “No! You don’t have the right to barge in here and demand I tell you where I was, Desmond, after you slept with me then avoided me for two weeks! What makes you think you have a right to be here interrogating me? What makes you think you have a right to ask me anything?”
His nostrils flared. Lips quivered. Standing immediately in front of her now, invading any space that was hers, he asked, “Did you sleep with him?” He watched tears form in her eyes.
“You’re unbelievable,” she said, attempting to walk around him.
His anger grew when she didn’t answer his question. He threw his arm out like a crossing gate, took her into his grasp and backed her up against the counter. Face darkening, pupils dilating, he yelled, “Did you sleep with him!”
Fear crossed her features. She was alone, in his house, in his basement apartment, and he looked like he could snap her neck. His eyes were dark, so intense she couldn’t stand to look at him. “No, Desmond. I didn’t sleep with him.”
“Then why were you with him, Sherita?”
“I met him at a restaurant with my parents.”
“Why…were…you…with…him, Sherita?” he asked, slowly, his eyes burning with envy.
“To tell him to leave me and my parents alone. That there was no chance for us and—”
Before she could finish her tearful explanation, Desmond locked his mouth onto hers tight, so tight he nearly sucked the breath right out of her while grabbing hold of the dress she wore, pulling it down until it dropped on the floor. He picked her up, carried her to the bed and maneuvered out of his clothes until he was as bare as she was. He wasted no time connecting their souls, watching her close her eyes and whimper as he did so.
“Look at me, Sherita.”
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. For a moment, he didn’t say a thing. He just found her hands, interlaced their fingers and said, “You’re my wife. Mine. I’m the only man who makes love to you. The only man who will ever make love to you.”
“You’re the only man I want to make love to, Desmond,” she could hardly say, feeling him take complete ownership of her body.
Desmond looked at her, at the prolonged delectation on her face, thinking she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever encountered. And he had her as his possession. He knew he’d never feel anything close to this with another woman ever again. She was his and he was hers. It was that simple.
“Your body is perfect for me, Sherita.”
She smiled just barely and when she felt the slightest shift of his body, she whimpered. Reaching up, she touched his lips with her index finger, watching him smile.
“I’ve missed you,” he admitted.
“I’ve missed you too, Desmond,” she whispered, feeling the heat of his mouth on her neck, while she held on tightly to him, falling under his spell, enticed by his smell and feeling herself come apart as she lost control of her own being.
“You’re mine, princess,” Desmond groaned. “All mine.” He closed his eyes as his body locked with hers, rendering him nearly unconscious as he flew into oblivion. He blinked a few times, forced himself to breathe a little harder and felt his legs lock up a second time. What was happening to him?
He looked her, smiled then took her mouth again, kissing her deeply. Purposely.
With her head against his chest, he sent strokes of his fingers through her hair. This felt good. Felt right. Jealousy had made him realize how much she meant to him.
“Sherita.”
“Yes?” she said, still cooling down, catching her breath.
“Did you end things with Thane?”
“I think so. He seems to be a bit obsessed with me.”
“Why?” Desmond
asked.
“He thinks we were made for each other…saying how pretty our children would be, and that we would have a good life together.”
Over my dead body. “When you two were together, he never tried coming on to you?”
“Oh, yeah…plenty of times. But I wanted to be married first. The only man I ever wanted to make love to was my husband, and it turns out, I did just that.”
Desmond smiled. “By the way, are you on any kind of birth control?”
“No. Never had a need to be. Why do you ask?”
“Because we’ve slept together, twice now, and I haven’t worn any protection.”
Sherita left a soft kiss against his chest, found his hands, interlocking their fingers, then said, “You know, for someone who doesn’t want kids, you’re not well prepared.”
“I’m always prepared…just not with you, Sherita.”
Desmond squeezed her hand, thinking about how jealous he was when Dante said that Sherita was with Thane. He was furious. He smiled thinking about that. He’d never experienced anything like it before. And he never wanted to experience it again. To make sure she knew where he stood, he said, “I never want to hear that you’re with Thane.”
“I was with him and my parents, Desmond. It’s not like I was alone with him.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want you with him, near him, talking to him…I don’t want to hear your name and his name in the same sentence.”
Sherita closed her eyes. Something about his request made her want to believe that a man like Desmond was capable of love. But she knew that wasn’t the case. What exactly had he been doing in the last two weeks? Had he not seen any other women? Was he being faithful to their phony marriage?
“Do I get to make any requests of you?” she asked.
“What might those be?”
“I don’t want you flirting with other women.”
“Done. Anything else?”
“Yes. Well, it’s not a request…just a question I need you to answer for me.”
“Okay. Ask it.”
“In the last two weeks that you’ve been avoiding me, was there anyone else?”
“You mean did I sleep with another woman, Sherita?”
“Yes. Did you?”
“Would it bother you if I said yes?”
Leaving his question unanswered, Sherita swallowed hard and forced herself not to become emotional.
“Sherita.”
Sherita pulled in a breath. “No, it wouldn’t bother me,” she managed to say.
Desmond freed his hand from hers then rolled on top of her. “You’re a bad liar, Sherita.” He took a kiss from her lips. “No. I haven’t been with anyone in the last two weeks. As a matter of fact, you’re the only woman I’ve slept with in a year and half.”
“I am?”
“You are,” he said, then took a small kiss from her lips. “Now, I have a final request of you?”
“What’s that?”
“Your wedding ring never comes off your finger again. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Desmond,” she whispered before he lowered his mouth to hers again and one o’clock in the morning, they made love once more.
CHAPTER 21
The moment Sherita opened her eyes, they were connected with Desmond’s. She smiled. He was a sight to see in the morning. She wished she could wake up to him every morning.
“Good morning, princess.”
“Good morning, Desmond.” She found his hand and brought it up to her face, closing her eyes, savoring this feeling. “Why are you staring at me?”
“You’re so beautiful I can’t look away.”
Sherita’s face glowed.
“And I was thinking about how I know you through the family, but I really don’t know you as well as I would like to.”
“I don’t know you as well as I would like to either.”
“Then I propose we take two weeks to learn each other and, during that time, we won’t make love.”
“Okay. I can do that.”
“Good. This morning, I want to share breakfast with you, then show you around the house.”
“Don’t you have to work today?” Sherita glanced at the clock, noticing it was a few minutes after ten.
“I told Dante I wasn’t coming in…first time I’ve ever taken a day off.”
“Wow. I feel special.”
“You should feel special. I’ve never done this before…I’m experiencing a lot of firsts with you, Sherita.”
Sherita smiled.
“I’m going to run upstairs and shower. Meet me in the kitchen in thirty minutes.” He took a kiss from her lips before he stood up from the bed.
Sherita watched as he lazily sauntered out of sight and up the stairs.
* * *
Desmond had stepped out of the shower, dried off and slid into a pair of Ralph Lauren boxers, a pair of Seven jeans and a hunter green Polo. He heard his cell phone ring from the nightstand, seeing the number to The Champion Corporation on the display.
“Hello,” he answered.
“Are you actually taking a day off?” Dimitrius asked.
“I am, Dimitrius.”
“When Dante told me you weren’t coming in this morning, I thought for sure it was a prank of some sort.”
Desmond grinned.
“Is everything cool, though?” Dimitrius asked.
“Yes. Everything’s good. I’ve been working so hard on the marketing plan for Service Swap, I just needed to take a day.”
“Okay, Des. Well guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yep. Later.”
Desmond ended the call, then slid the phone in the front pocket of his jeans before heading downstairs to the kitchen. When he stepped in, he noticed Sherita was already sitting down. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, displaying the outline of her face – the same outline he remembered tracing with the tip of his index finger this morning while he watched her sleep.
He walked over to her, pulled the barrette from her hair, setting her hair free then said, “I had breakfast delivered earlier. I told them I wanted something healthy, so let’s see what we have.” Desmond took two styrofoam containers from a paper bag and placed one in front of her, the other in front of him. He opened his tray and saw freshly sliced watermelon, cantaloupe, strawberries and cubes of ham and cheese with a croissant.
“Looks good,” Sherita said, tossing a piece of cheese into her mouth.
“Sherita, we haven’t talked about this, but I don’t want the family to know about us…that we’re—”
“Intimate,” she finished saying.
“Yes. I just want to keep that between us. So when we are visiting their houses, we will always drive separate cars and limit our conversation with each other.”
That stung a little, but Sherita brushed it off and said, “Whatever you say, Desmond.”
“Good. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, tell me some things I don’t know about you.”
“Umm…hmm. I don’t know where to start.”
“Did you grow up in Asheville?” he asked.
“I did. You?”
“No. I was born in San Francisco. That’s where I grew up. Dante convinced me, and Dimitrius, to move here after our parents passed.”
“What happened to them?”
“Uh…”
“I’m sorry. You don’t want to talk about that, I’m sure.”
“I don’t mind.” Desmond inhaled a deep breath. “My father died of a heart attack, and my mother died a few years later because she couldn’t live without him.” Keeping the conversation moving along, he asked, “How did you get into your line of work?”
“It was just something I always wanted to do. I have thousands upon thousands of photos I’ve taken since I was like thirteen.”
“I would like to see those one day.”
“You would?”
“Yes, I would. Do you have them here now?”
“No. I put them in storage with
the rest of my things.”
Desmond frowned. “Storage? You gave up your apartment?”
Crap. She didn’t want him to know that. “Yes.”
“But you do know this situation is short term.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that, Desmond. You don’t have to remind me.”
“Then why’d you give up the apartment?”
“Because I, umm…I’m relocating after this is over.”
His jaw twitched. “Relocating where?”
“I’m not quite sure yet, but it’ll be somewhere close to the coast since that’s where I get most of my work.”
“I see,” he said, remaining expressionless though the thought of her leaving Asheville left him feeling empty already. “Speaking of business, how is the business going?”
“It’s okay. It could be better, and it will be once I move.”
He sighed. “Are you done with your breakfast?”
“Yes.”
He stood up, took their containers and tossed them in the garbage. “Come with me. I want to show you the place.”
She followed him into the living room where the second-floor ceiling was partially glass, providing ample light without the use of electricity. The fireplace was the centerpiece in the grand room. It seemed like it would be cozy in the winter. “I like the fireplace.”
“Me, too. I like it so much, I’d had one installed in my bedroom just like it.”
“You did?”
“Yes. Come with me. I’ll show you.”
She followed him up a spiral staircase, smelling his scent in the process. She was getting accustomed to it, was feeling herself getting comfortable by the smell, but she knew she had to fight the urge to become addicted to him.
“Here it is,” he said, allowing her to walk into his bedroom.
“Wow,” she said looking around. The fireplace was identical to the one in the living room just like he said and, in front of it, there were two elegant chairs and a small table. She could imagine him sitting there, having coffee with her, or better yet, chocolate-covered strawberries.
One wall, the one that gave the stunning view of the scenery, had floor-to-ceiling windows. His bed was huge, bigger than a standard king-size and the intricately carved designs of the bedposts and headboard looked like something fit for royalty. In fact, all the furniture and décor in his place was elegant and stylish, even down to the lamps and rugs.
