He pulled himself off the end of the bed and stood up, grabbing one of her sandal-clad feet. He inspected it as he unbuckled the white sandal.
“You know, you have the most perfect feet,” he observed.
She wrinkled her nose. “Are you one of those weird feet men?”
“I can’t help it if they’re gorgeous. A lot of people don’t appreciate a nice shapely foot. The way it arches here,” he ran a finger along the underside.
“That tickles!” she laughed, trying to kick herself free. He let it go, only to grab the other and unbuckle the shoe and pull it off.
“Gorgeous,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against the sole.
After a few moments torturing her foot with his lips and fingers he set her free. London brought her arms over her head, inspecting him in nothing but a pair of jeans above her. He had a contemplative look about him.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Besides the obvious?” he grinned, raising an eyebrow.
She laughed, nodding her head and poking him in the stomach with her foot.
“I was just thinking of today’s talk,” he said, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.
“Which part?”
“The part about babies,” he continued, pushing his pants down his thighs and stepping out of them.
She raised an eyebrow in surprise and curiosity.
“I was thinking, it could be a lot of fun to practice making them,” With that he pushed his boxers down, exposing the part of him that was quite ready for practice to get started.
Michael leapt on the bed and grabbed her, making her laugh with glee. “Well, practice makes perfect,” she said toward the ceiling.
“So let’s get started then,” he said.
“Okay then, get down and give me”—she took a moment to inspect his equipment. “eight? nine?”
“Let’s call it an even ten,” he said grinning.
“Generous aren’t we?” she teased.
“Aww, now you’re ruining my motivation,” he pouted with a mocking tone.
“Ohh, baby,” she comforted, bringing him back. “You’ll always be an olympian in that area as far as I’m concerned.”
“Well, let me get started shooting for the gold,” he growled.
With that he grabbed her hips, holding them down as penetrated her. She instinctively brought her legs around his waist and pressed her body into his, already feeling her body start to respond.
“Atta boy,” she purred.
Chapter 17
Alex’s first stop was a quick jaunt to Los Angeles, home base for one Trina Robbins. He had called prior to arriving and set up a meeting back at her condo. Apparently the terse tone in his voice didn’t clue her in as to why he was stopping by, based on her enthusiastic greeting.
“There he is!” she squealed when he walked through the front door of her condo. “The boy with the naughty tattoo,” she laughed, giving him a suggestive wink. “I smell another best seller in the making.”
Frankly, Alex was surprised she was well-read (or at least tangentially informed) enough to make such a connection between the best selling novel and his own personal embarrassment.
“Cut the shit, Trina,” he said, wanting to get straight to the point. “What’s up with that fucking DM to Brooklyn on Twitter?”
“Oh, my god, chill the fuck out,” she whined, laughing as she fell back on the couch in the living room of her Beverly Hills condo.
That’s when Troy came out, wearing nothing but a towel, wet from the shower he had just taken. Speaking of tattoos, the man was covered with them.
“Yo, Alex, my man!” he said, striding over, all tattoos and muscles, to fist bump him. Alex acquiesced only because he needed something from the two of them.
Trina was wearing nothing but a tiny t-shirt and a strip of fabric that could barely be called a skirt. Troy fell back onto the couch next to her, wrapping his wet, muscular arms around her, making her squeal with delight and annoyance.
“Troy!” she screamed, laughing as she tried to wriggle out of his arms. He reached one hand up under her skirt, completely oblivious to Alex standing right in front of them. She slapped it away and he moved it up underneath her shirt instead.
“So what’s up?” Troy asked as Trina brought an arm around him and stuck her tongue into his ear.
Alex tried to keep his emotions under control as he answered the question. What the hell did they think he was here for, a fucking social call?
“I want to know about the DM Trina sent Brooklyn on Twitter,” he repeated.
Trina looked off into space as she thought about it. “Oh, you mean the ahem, photo?” she asked giving him a wink.
Jesus, was she that much of a space cadet?
“I’m going to assume we’re talking about the same photo,” he said, struggling to keep his anger in check.
“It was a joke,” she laughed as Troy brought his face into her neck. Underneath her shirt, the hand gave a firm squeeze.
“A joke?!” he shouted, his voice finally rising.
“Yeah,” she said, still oblivious as she closed her eyes, letting Troy indulge himself with her body. This was the point where Alex wondered if both of them were under the influence ecstasy or some other drug.
“Brianna said you’d get a nice little kick out of it,” Troy said chiming in. “Said your girl would be into the threesome thing. Frankly—and I say this as no-homo—if I had your goods I’d probably get the same thing tatted above my junk too.”
The two of them laughed.
“So Brianna was the one who sent you the pic, and told you to write that message?” Alex confirmed. A thought occurred to him. “And the fight at the club; she planned that as well?”
Trina just nodded as she moaned under Troy’s mouth against her neck. Then she brought her head up, eyes blinking open in some sudden bright idea.
“Hey, since you’re here and all…wanna join? We just popped some—”
“No,” Alex interrupted before she could implicate herself any further. “I just want to know exactly how this went down. Just to make sure, Brianna sent you the photo, told you to send it to my girlfriend and did she tell you to write the message?”
“Ugh!” Trina said, her buzz suffering a minor set back. “I’ll get you my phone so you can see the whole thing.”
She pushed herself off the couch and skipped back to her bedroom where her phone was presumably located.
Alex sat there awkwardly looking at Troy and the growing tent rising out of his towel.
The man gave him a sympathetic smile. “So I’m guessing this whole thing wasn’t exactly kosher with the old ball and chain back home, huh?”
“If you mean my girlfriend, then no, it wasn’t fucking kosher at all.”
Troy just laughed. “Maybe she should expand her horizons a little. I’ll tell ya, Trina? That one right there?” He pointed in the direction of where the woman had gone, as though there were some other “Trina” in the vicinity. “Totally fucking wild. Add that crazy bitch Brianna? You’re in for a good fuckin’ time, my friend. Both of ‘em nutty as a Snickers, but hey, it makes up for it when it comes to in between the sheets time, am I right?”
Alex just stared at him. At 27 years old, Troy was actually a year older than he was. All the same, he felt the need to give a little fatherly advice to the man before he continued to hitch his wagon on the ride to crazy town.
“You know a woman doesn’t have to be crazy to be good in bed,” he said.
Troy broke out in laughter at that. “Man, you find a girl that’s good in bed and ain’t bat-shit in real time, you might as well put a ring on that fuckin’ unicorn.”
Trina came pouncing back into the room and threw her phone at Alex. “It’s all there” she said blithely as she leaped on to the couch back next to Troy.
Alex, struggled to grab the phone before it fell to the marble floor and shattered. There was a momentary bout of panic as it looked like he was losing the
war in a short juggling act. Finally, he got a firm grip on it and read through the text message thread between Trina and Brianna.
He scrolled up until he got to the part where this whole mess had begun.
Brianna: Hey, I have wicked idea. Go along w me.
Trina: Cool beans.
B: I want u to DM this photo to someone
[Alex’s picture attached]
T: Holy fuck. Is that Alex’s junk?
B: lol, yeah…nice huh?
T: Very! How are you still walking these days? lol
B: Just send it to…
.
The rest of the message log was pretty much a blueprint for exactly what went down with Brooklyn.
Brianna fucking Nolton.
* * *
“Alex,” Brianna said brightly. “Isn’t it awesome? I already have twenty thousand likes on—”
“No, it isn’t fucking awesome Brianna,” he shouted into the phone.
“What in the world are you talking about?” she asked, her voice pure innocence.
“I had a little talk with Trina today. It was quite enlightening. At least it was for me. You, on the other hand, probably already know what it was about, seeing as you’re the one who fucking orchestrated the whole good dammed thing.”
“I still have no idea what you’re referring—”
“Cut the shit Brianna!” he yelled, wanting to reach through the phone and strangle her.
There was a pause at the other end. “It was meant to be a joke, Alex,” she said patronizingly, as though the only issue here was his lacking a sense of humor.
“A joke? What exactly is funny about this Brianna?”
“I don’t know,” she said getting angry on the other end. “You’re the one with the idiotic tattoo. If you’re so opposed to showing it off, then why haven’t you had it removed by now, Mr. I’ve Grown Past My Party Days?” There was a mocking tone that she used to cover her guilt.
“What the fuck gives you the right?” he raged. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused? My girlfriend pretty much broke up with me.”
“She did?” Brianna said, actually sounding hopeful.
That’s when it hit Alex. This wasn’t about trying to keep him as stunted in his maturity level as she was, it was about trying to keep him, period. Which was fucking odd since Brianna in no way, shape, or form, ever had him.
“What the hell is going on here, Brianna?” he growled into the phone
“Nothing,” she said. He could hear the petulance in her voice. “It was just a stupid joke. You used to be fun, Alex. Once upon time you would have laughed along with me.”
“Then I grew the fuck up, something you should seriously think about doing. It wasn’t cute. It wasn’t funny. Frankly, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t even legal.”
“So fucking sue me,” she spat. “God, Alex this girl obviously has you so whipped that—”
“You keep her the fuck out of this,” he warned. “You so much as mention her again and I may just think about suing after all. As it is, don’t bother contacting me again, and don’t ever—ever—think about pulling a stunt like this on me or, really, any one of your so-called friends again. You might end up with none left.”
There was a pause, then she gave a huff and hung up the phone.
At least now he had answers. The only problem was how to explain it all to Brooklyn. The entire thing was so outlandish it sounded ridiculous even in his head.
Chapter 18
The next day Michael and London made their way to the beach. The weather was hot and the blue Mediterranean was just too tempting not to venture out with a towel and a swimsuit.
So far the trip had been a much needed blessing. Neither of them had even thought of or mentioned anything related to the election, their parents, or even New York.
“You could go topless, you know,” Michael pointed out with a teasing grin.
“Could and would are two different things,” she replied, keeping her black triangle string bikini top firmly in place.
“Hmm, perhaps you’re right,” he said, rolling over off his back to wrap an arm around her stomach pulling her closer. “I think I want those goods to be for my eyes only.”
London laughed. “Well, your ‘goods’ are going to have a Michael Wright tan line if you don’t get off of me,” she chided.
He chuckled and pulled himself off, staying on his side, to rest his head on his elbow as he looked down at her. “Look at you,” he said, tracing a finger along her arm. “All these people out here lying in the sun, trying to achieve the same beautiful color you are already blessed with.”
She smiled and brought a finger up to lower her sunglasses down her nose. “Well, by the time our two weeks here are done, I’m going to be pitch black,” she said. “And you? Well, based on the looks of things you might be as dark as I was when we first got here.”
“Perfect,” he grinned.
“Why don’t we go in the water and cool off a bit?” he suggested.
She pushed her sunglasses down even further. “You mean like swimming? In the ocean? Trust me, you won’t be interested in having anything to do with the result of that.” she laughed.
“Is this the hair thing again?” he asked. “Because I’ve seen you after a shower. It’s very uplifting, if you get my drift.”
She laughed. “All the same—”
“All the same, nothing,” he scolded. “We’re right here next to water we could only dream about in New York and you’re worried about your hair.”
“It’s complicated,” she sighed.
“So make it simple,” he said. Then he leaned down over her. “London, if something as silly as your hair could be enough to have me running for the hills, then you have no business being with me.”
She stared at him over her glasses, thinking about his words. Of course hair, when it came to black women, was a delicate issue. She wasn’t like Brooklyn who could just let it go natural without a second thought, even adding the odd bit of color when the mood struck her.
Now she had a man who didn’t give one iota about the state of her hair. A man who wanted to take her into the Mediterranean Sea and enjoy being with her, swimming, playing in the sun and water and beautiful scenery.
And here she was worried about her stupid hair.
“Okay but—”
He didn’t even let her finish. He pulled himself up, grabbing her into a cradle in his strong arms and running toward the bright blue water without a second thought.
She squealed with surprise and delight at his actions. The water shocked her at first, but soon provided a much needed relief from the blistering Barcelona sun that had been rather intense.
Michael held onto her as the water covered her lower body. Amused onlookers watched as he swung her around in the bright blue water.
“You know how to swim right?” he asked before letting go of her.
“Yes,” she assured him. He gradually set her down and then dived head first into the water. It looked so inviting, she quickly followed him.
The water was perfect. So clear that she could see both Michael swimming nearby and the sandy bottom. It brought back memories of the Caribbean that she pushed to the back of her mind. It would do no good to conjure thoughts of her and Clayton. Not when she had the world’s most perfect man right here next to her, who loved her no matter what her stupid hair looked like.
Her cheap sunglasses had been lost somewhere between the first dive and the present moment, and she didn’t care. She laughed as she dived under the water again, swimming further into the deep blue, Michael following her.
Soon the two of them were treading water where it had turned from turquoise to a deep azure that the coast was known for.
“So, do you regret anything so far?” he teased, pulling in close to run his hands along her body underneath the water.
“Not unless you’re getting any ideas about untying the back of my bikini,” she said, wrapping her arms around him
.
“Nah,” he said, “We can save that for later. I’m dying to see what those tan lines produce…in the privacy of our hotel room.”
“I have to admit I’m curious about yours too,” she said, running her hand along one broad shoulder that was turning a crisp golden brown.
Michael threw back his head and laughed. “You mean my white ass?”
“Hey,” she pouted. “I love your white ass.”
* * *
They were walking along the beachfront walkway back to their hotel, hand in hand, their bodies covered in salt and sand, and neither one of them giving a damn.
“This is certainly the life,” Michael said looking out at the blue water. “I get why Alex chose a lifestyle where he gets to do this all day.”
“Hmm,” London said, resting her head on his shoulder. “It is nice, but I think I’d get bored after a while. Do you enjoy being an attorney?”
“Me? Oh I love it—well, parts of it. I enjoy the challenge, solving problems. My current gig unfortunately has me sitting behind a desk doing paperwork, or at least fixing the paperwork of our associates.”
London laughed. “Yeah, but it is fun to teach them. I’m on the other end of things, usually handling clients which can occasionally be…stressful in its own way. But I still love it.”
“Sounds ideal,” he said. “That’s the kind of thing I imagined I’d be doing when I first started Harvard Law.”
“At least you have options,” she said pulling her head up and looking at him. “I can’t imagine you’re tied to Douglas & Foster because you have to be there.”
He shrugged. “I guess I never thought about taking the initiative to leave.”
He looked down at her with a frown, then tapped her on the nose. “Aren’t we violating rule #1 about this trip?” he pointed out.
She smiled and playfully turned her head away from his finger. “Okay, okay…let’s go back to imagining living here full time.”
“That’s better.”
* * *
Back in the hotel room, they quickly stripped out of their beach clothes and headed into the shower together. After so many hours on the beach, the line where their bathing suits had blocked the sun was quite pronounced.
Mr. & Mrs. Wright: A BWWM Romance (Wright Brothers Series Book 2) Page 9
