“Cut the bull, Maurice. You’ve been living the life of an NFL star with the beautiful fiancée, and part of your perfect life has come crashing down, and you’re feeling sorry for yourself. I’m not your salvation, your chance to put karma right.”
He stared at her intently, so deeply that she was thrown off kilter. There was something in his eyes that looked familiar. Ignore it, she told herself.
“I know that you have every right to hate me, but you have to admit that us meeting like this must mean something.”
Kenya placed her sunglasses over her eyes so that she could peer at Maurice without him noticing. He was finer than ever. His skin was the color of dark chocolate; his chest and abs rivaled those of the famed statue David. The bead of sweat that ran down his flat stomach made her mouth water, because she wanted to follow the path of that bead with her tongue.
What is wrong with me? This man is toxic, poison, and God, I want to kiss him, touch him, and let him touch me.
“Kenya, are you all right?” Maurice asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because I asked you a question about five minutes ago.”
“Maybe I just don’t want to talk to you,” she said, then turned her back to him.
He touched her bare shoulder, and her skin burned with desire. How many nights had she dreamed of his touch? Here he was, standing behind her. But was this a dream or a nightmare?
Turning to face him, Kenya scowled and pushed his hand away. “Don’t touch me ever again.”
“Do you hate me that much?” he asked. “I know I was wrong, and I’ve struggled with what happened between us for years.”
“Yet, you never reached out to say anything,” she said, allowing emotions she’d held in for nine years to bubble to the surface. “Maurice, you’re full of it. Whatever happened between you and Lauryn must have really shaken you up for you to stand here and tell these lies.”
“I’m not lying. The way things went down between us at Smith was wrong. I never wanted you to be hurt and—”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have cheated on me,” Kenya snapped. “You know, the sad thing is that I would have forgiven you, but you claimed that you loved her and that we had grown apart. Though that didn’t seem to matter when you needed help with your schoolwork. I mean, you were some piece of work.”
He looked at her and stepped back. “Kenya, I—”
“You used me. And when you got what you needed from me, you tossed me aside. Is that what she did to you? With all of the wedding preparation that was broadcasted on the news, she must have left you for a bigger payday.”
“It was good seeing you, Kenya. Enjoy your vacation.” Maurice turned away from her and headed inside the hotel.
She watched as he walked away, wondering if he’d been the reason for the breakup of his engagement. He had probably cheated on Lauryn, because cheaters didn’t change. Kenya didn’t feel sorry for Lauryn, though. After all, what goes around comes around.
“Excuse me,” a man with a British accent said. “Is anyone sitting here?”
Looking up at the stranger, Kenya smiled, then said no. He was cute. He had obviously spent some time in the gym and in the sun, because his golden brown skin had a slight red hue. He extended his hand to Kenya as he eased into his chair. “Damon Porter. And you are?”
“Kenya Taylor.”
“Beautiful.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re beautiful, but I’m sure you already knew that. Vacationing alone?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s just that I’ve been here for about a week, and you have to be the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen. How have you slipped past me?”
Kenya blushed as he smiled at her, revealing a set of pearly whites that were blinding. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re American, aren’t you? A Southerner?”
“Yes.”
He gave her the once-over, drinking in her image. Kenya felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze. But wasn’t this the reason why she had chosen to wear a bikini, anyway?
Relax, she thought. This is why you came on vacation.
“What American man allowed you to leave the States alone?”
“No man tells me what to do,” Kenya replied.
Damon held his hands up and grinned. “Well, I’d love to have dinner with you tonight, Miss Kenya. And I’m asking you, not telling you.”
“Okay,” she replied. “Where are you taking me?”
“The restaurant here is excellent, and they have ocean-view seating.”
“You seem to know your way around this place.”
“I’ve been here before, and I’m certainly glad that I’m here now.”
So am I, she thought, smiling.
As they sat by the pool and talked, Damon told Kenya that he was an international stockbroker and spent a lot of time traveling between London and New York. He’d never been married, though he’d come close two years ago. He wasn’t opposed to marriage; he just wanted a woman who had her own goals and didn’t aspire to be just a housewife.
Kenya revealed that she didn’t date a lot, because she was focused on her career as a contract attorney. She told him that this was the first vacation that she’d taken since she was a college student, and that she took it because she’d taken a new job that was going to force her to relocate to another city.
“It could be an adventure,” he said. “You don’t like to take risks, do you?”
“You figured that out in one conversation?”
He turned on his stomach and looked at her. “That and the fact that you came here alone to unwind and pretend that you’re someone else.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I can see it in your eyes,” he said, staring intently at her. “But we’re going to change that. How long are you here for?”
“You are very presumptuous,” Kenya said. “Who’s to say that I’m going to enjoy dinner with you tonight?”
“I do. And you will.”
She shook her head, rendered speechless by his arrogance, but intrigued by his smile and sparkling brown eyes. Then she looked up and saw Maurice and James staring in her direction.
Placing her hand on Damon’s shoulder, she laughed throatily, more for Maurice than for her companion. She could feel Maurice’s eyes burning into her. Was he jealous? As if he had a right to be. Even if Damon was the most arrogant man in the world, Kenya was going to pretend that he was the most interesting man she’d ever met as long as Maurice kept watching her.
“Look at her,” Maurice said to his brother as they sat at the poolside bar. “She’s all over that dude.”
“That’s why I didn’t take her the drink I bought her. I didn’t want to block her from getting her ‘mack’ on,” James said.
Maurice’s anger was unexplainable. He had no right to feel that way, because he was the one who’d tossed Kenya aside. But seeing her with this guy, watching her smile at him, touch his arm, and have a conversation with him, made Maurice jealous. The first thing she did when she saw him was slap him.
“She can do better.”
“Kenya was always pretty, but now she is fine, man. You messed up.”
“Gee, thanks.”
James slapped his brother on the shoulder. “Come on. You ended up with the down low chick when you could have had Kenya and watched her blossom into the diamond that she is now.”
“Stop looking at her like that,” Maurice said forcefully.
“Can’t help it. Those legs, breasts, and the way her face lights up when she smiles. She’s fine.”
Maurice pushed James from the stool, then stalked over to the pool. He figured if he dove in and made a big enough splash, he could wet Kenya and her newfound friend.
I should’ve stayed in my room, he thought as he dove into the pool from the edge. The water splashed over the side, gently spraying Kenya and Damon.
“Bloody hell,�
� Damon exclaimed.
Kenya and Maurice locked eyes as he looked at her from the pool. “Sorry,” he called out.
Damon looked at him. “Aren’t you Maurice Goings of the Carolina Panthers?”
Maurice nodded and smiled. “That’s me.”
Kenya grabbed a towel from the side of her chair and wiped the water from her legs.
“That was a great catch in the Super Bowl,” said Damon.
“Thanks,” replied Maurice.
Kenya rose to her feet. “Damon, I’m going to get ready for dinner,” she said. “What time are we meeting?”
Turning away from Maurice, Damon smiled at Kenya. “Right at sunset. You have to see it, because it’s almost as beautiful as you are.”
Maurice dove underneath the water to hide his disgust. So Kenya was going out with this clown. What drew her in? he wondered. His accent? His British mannerisms? Coming up for air, he watched as Kenya walked away, her red bikini bottom clinging to her heart-shaped behind.
“Hey, didn’t you get married?” Damon asked, standing in front of Maurice and blocking his view of Kenya.
“Ah, no,” Maurice mumbled.
“Oh, sorry. I’ve never been a huge fan of American football, but that Super Bowl was amazing.”
“Uh-huh. So how do you know that lady you were talking to?” asked Maurice.
Damon laughed. “Oh, we just met. You know how these women are when they’re on vacation.”
“No, I don’t,” said Maurice.
“Guaranteed panties. I’ll have that honey’s legs in the air by the time the waitress is serving us dessert.”
Maurice leapt out of the pool, and in one swift motion, he had his hands around Damon’s neck. “Don’t talk about her that way.” Water from his biceps dripped down into Damon’s glass.
Stumbling backward momentarily, Damon regained his footing and pushed Maurice off him. “What the hell is your problem, man? You can have her when I’m done.”
Stopping himself from falling, Maurice grabbed the edge of the table. “I don’t like to hear guys disrespect women, especially ones I know. Stay away from her, or you’re going to have to deal with me.”
“What? Are you her father? She chose me and not you. Bet that just burns your knickers, being that you’re the NFL star and I’m just a regular guy. You can have my sloppy seconds.”
Figuring that another second talking to this guy would lead to an assault charge, Maurice stomped away from Damon. I have to find Kenya, he thought as he dashed to the front desk.
The front-desk clerk, who’s back was turned to Maurice, was chatting away with a housekeeper.
“Yo, excuse me,” Maurice said, his voice deepened by aggression.
The blond clerk whirled around, hair whipping around her face. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yes, I need to find a guest,” Maurice said, smiling wide enough to show all of his teeth. “Her name is Kenya Taylor. What room is she in?”
Shaking her head, the clerk replied, “I can’t give you that information. Our guests have an expectation of privacy, which I can’t violate.”
“She might be in danger, and I have to warn her.”
Placing her hands on the counter and leaning forward, the clerk smiled a generic smile, then said, “I’ll be happy to take a message and deliver it.”
Folding his arms across his chest and frowning, Maurice exhaled loudly and took the pen and paper the clerk had extended to him. After looking at the blank piece of paper, he knew it was pointless to leave a note. He knew the moment Kenya saw his name, she wouldn’t read it. The clerk turned her back to him and continued her conversation with the housekeeper, and Maurice leaned over the counter, hoping to find something that had a list of the guests.
“Sir,” the clerk snapped, catching him in the middle of his snooping. “What are you doing?”
“I, uh, this pen doesn’t write,” he replied, handing it back to her.
She frowned. “Move away from the desk.”
Maurice knew that if he had a few bills to pass to her, she would be happy to give him Kenya’s information. Walking away from the desk, he decided that he wasn’t above offering a bribe. He headed to his room to retrieve his wallet.
As the door to the elevator opened, Kenya, dressed in a red dress that hugged her body like a second skin, started to walk out. Maurice drank in her image, eyeing her long, toned legs and noticing for the first time the small butterfly tattoo on her calf.
He blocked her exit by grasping her elbow and pushing her back into the elevator.
“What the hell is your problem?” she demanded hotly.
Maurice pressed the button to close the doors. “I need to talk to you,” he said as he pressed the button for the twentieth floor.
“Have you lost what’s left of your mind? Let me off.”
“Where are you going?”
“Are you kidding me? You have the audacity to ask me where I’m going? You don’t have the right to even speak to me.” Crossing her arms across her chest, she turned her back to him. “If you must know, I have a date.”
“With that dude from the pool? Don’t do it, Kenya. He’s bad news.”
“As opposed to you, a liar and a cheater?”
“Kenya, listen to me. That guy’s up to no good, and he’s out to hurt you, to use you as a sex object.”
Kenya’s eyes widened to the size of silver dollars, and her mouth dropped open, as if she were about to scream. “What did you just say? Hurt me? No one can ever inflict the pain on me that you did. Now you want to pretend that you’re concerned about me. Whatever, Maurice. Get out of my way.” Reaching around him, she attempted to press the button for the lobby. Maurice grabbed her hand.
Jerking away, Kenya pushed him against the wall. “Just leave me alone. I don’t need you hovering over me like you give a damn.”
Circling his arms around her waist, he pulled her against him and could feel her trembling against his chest. He just didn’t know if it was from desire or anger.
“Kenya, you can hate me forever, but trust me, this guy is after one thing and one thing only.”
“So what?”
He should’ve let her go. He had only her best interests at heart, and she wanted to act as if he’d done something wrong. But she felt so damned good in his arms. Time had stood still in that elevator. She wasn’t angry with him, and he hadn’t broken her heart. Before another second passed, Maurice leaned in, seizing the opportunity to kiss her succulent lips.
She was sweeter than he remembered, reminding him of his favorite confection—chocolate-covered strawberries. Slipping his hands underneath her dress, he cupped her perfect ass and pulled her even closer so she could feel his throbbing desire.
For a moment, Kenya was lost in the kiss, allowing him to slip his tongue into her mouth, and she melted against him. But just as quickly as she fell under his spell, she broke away from him and slapped him.
“Don’t ever touch me again,” she cried.
“You sure about that?” he asked, closing the space between them, their lips were almost touching.
Kenya eased back, bumping into the mirrored wall. Maurice knew he was in her space and she had nowhere to go. He pressed the emergency stop button, and the blaring bells of the alarm went off.
“Are you crazy?” she demanded, pressing her hands against his chest.
He grabbed her wrists and sought out her lips. She turned her head, and his lips landed on her neck—a spot that Maurice knew would get her hot. Kenya was rendered powerless under his kiss, and he knew it. Slowly, he moved down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses as he slipped the straps of her dress down. When her breasts spilled out, he took her chocolate-drop nipple into his mouth. With his hand, he stroked her other breast until her nipple hardened like a diamond.
“No, no,” she moaned, attempting to push him away. Her knees buckled as he continued to suck her breasts, alternately kissing each one. “Please. Stop.”
Maurice
pulled back, running his finger down the center of her chest. “Is that what you really want?”
“No, yes. Yes, I want you to stop.” Fixing her dress, Kenya pulled the emergency stop button, and the elevator started moving again. She stood as far away from Maurice as she could, holding on to the rail behind her because her knees were shaking.
As soon as the door opened, she bolted off the elevator, nearly knocking over an elderly couple attempting to enter.
Maurice licked his lips as he watched Kenya run away. Now that he had a taste of her again, he wasn’t going to be satisfied until he had all of her. But he was going to have to make sure Damon didn’t get his clutches on her.
Chapter 7
By the time she made it down ten flights of stairs, Kenya couldn’t breathe. She stopped and held the edge of the wall until her breathing became normal. Turning her eyes upward, she blew an angst-filled sigh. Why had she allowed him to touch her and kiss her? He had stirred feelings inside her that she’d worked so hard to bury in the deepest recesses of her heart. All it had taken was one kiss. One damned kiss that had almost made her forget nine years of pain and all the lies he’d told when he was sneaking around with Lauryn. One kiss had reminded her of the love they’d shared once, the tender moments they’d had sitting in her dorm room, eating pizza and kissing.
He’s the one who ruined it all, she thought as she started walking again. And he had the nerve to tell me not to go out with Damon. Then he gropes me in the elevator, as if he has a right to touch me.
Sweat dripped from her brow, her hands shook, and her panties were moist as she relived those moments in the elevator. Maurice had every right to touch her, because she wanted him to. She wanted him to make her feel alive, wanted to feel him inside her and taste him again.
At the fifth floor, Kenya used her passkey to open the door to the stairwell. She ran into her room, peeled off her clothes, then jumped in the shower, setting the dial to cold. But she was still on fire. It was as if Maurice’s lips had branded her, igniting a desire that burned from the soul and oozed out of every pore. Running her soapy rag over her sensitive breasts, Kenya closed her eyes and fought the urge to hop out of the shower and track Maurice down so that he could cool the fire he’d started inside her.
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