by A. C. Arthur
“Bull,” he spat.
“Whatever.” Waving a hand, Reka turned to leave again and he grabbed her arm again. Pulling back her other arm, Reka took a swing that landed on his nose with a sickening crack.
“Reka!” Khalil yelled. He’d watched them on the dance floor and had followed them with his eyes as they made their way back towards the table. He hadn’t heard their exchange but he had seen the man grab her.
Barkley stumbled back, his hand to his face as blood spewed through his fingers. Keith was right behind Khalil and turned his attention to the man who was now yelling like a female.
Khalil grabbed Reka at the waist, pulling her away from Barkley, afraid she was going to hit the man again. “What are you doing?”
Her hand hurt like hell, but she didn’t regret her action. “He wouldn’t leave me alone and I was tired of being nice.”
“Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head, stealing a glance around him to see how bad Barkley was hurt—not that she really cared, he had it coming. “No. I’m fine.”
“What happened?” Cienna came over, followed by Jonathan Peterson and his soon-to-be ex-wife Eleanor.
“My God, Barkley. What happened to you?” Eleanor gasped, going to her son immediately.
It seemed as if the moment she swung, all the music, all the chatter in the room stopped. It was now deafeningly quiet and all eyes were on Reka.
“Somebody should teach your son some manners,” she told the Petersons, then looked at Khalil. “I’m ready to go.”
He followed her towards the door. He didn’t know exactly what had happened. All he knew for sure was that a few moments ago she’d been dancing rather cozily with the guy, then he’d grabbed her and she’d punched him. She wasn’t in any mood to talk right now so he’d wait until they were alone. “Wait here, I’ll get our coats.”
She nodded in agreement, folding her arms over her chest as she waited. Her heart was beating rapidly. She couldn’t believe she’d actually hit him. She’d been trying so hard to hold back, to behave appropriately, but he just kept pushing and she just wanted him to get away from her. She wondered what Cienna’s reaction was going to be, and the moment she heard the clicking of heels behind her, she knew that she was about to find out.
Keith put a hand on her shoulder, jostling her against his big chest. “Hey slugger, you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
Cienna paused in front of her with one hand on her hip. “Barkley wants to press charges.”
“Great,” she sighed, “another court date.”
“His mother wants to sue the firm.”
Reka rolled her eyes. She wouldn’t beg for her job no matter how much it meant to her. Barkley Peterson was a spoiled jerk and he deserved to have his butt kicked instead of a simple bloody nose. “I won’t apologize.”
Cienna cracked a smile. “I wouldn’t ask you to.” Reaching out, she took Reka’s hand, looking down at the rapidly swelling knuckles. “You need some ice.”
“It hurts like hell.”
Both Cienna and Keith chuckled. “I bet it does,” Keith told her.
He still had his arm protectively wrapped around her. She liked Keith. He was a good guy and he tended to look out for her, sort of like a big brother.
“Go home and let Khalil take care of you. I’ll take care of the Petersons,” Cienna said.
Over Cienna’s shoulder she could see Khalil returning with their coats. And while she wouldn’t apologize to Barkley, she respected Cienna and Keith and appreciated all that they’d done for her. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you guys,” she said quietly.
“Girl, please. I know Barkley’s a creep. I’ve seen the way he eyes you and I’ve heard some of his remarks. So don’t give it another thought. If she wants to press charges, then so will we, for sexual harassment. And after the last sexual harassment scandal Page & Associates was involved in, I don’t think they even want to go there.”
Keith agreed.
Retrieving her from Keith’s grasp, Khalil wrapped the coat around Reka’s shoulders. “Let’s get you home.”
“Take care of her hand,” Keith added as they began to walk away.
“I will.” Khalil looked down at Reka. She wasn’t shaking, as women usually did when they were upset. She didn’t seem nervous or even slightly agitated. She was steady and focused as she waited by the curb for the valet to bring his car around.
They rode in silence and, instead of him taking her home, they went to his place. Reka wasn’t really paying much attention to their surroundings. Her mind was focused more on Khalil’s quietness. Had she embarrassed him? That was her biggest concern. Even though she didn’t regret what she’d done, she did regret the place in which it had occurred. But he hadn’t spoken so she wasn’t quite sure what he was thinking about the situation. He seemed more than a little tense. Still, the mere fact that they were at his place and not hers said something.
Slipping the key into the door, Khalil stepped to the side to let her in. Once inside he took her coat and watched as she went directly to his kitchen. After hanging their things in the closet he quickly followed behind her.
“Do you have tea?” she asked when she heard him approach from behind.
“Third cabinet on the right.” Slipping onto a stool at the breakfast bar, he watched her hips move with the slightly shimmering gold material. “Sure you don’t want something a little stronger?” he asked, attempting to lighten the mood.
Her head turned and she tossed a warning glare over her shoulder. “If I have something stronger I might get in your car and head back to the Waldorf to finish the job with Barkley.”
Khalil grinned. “Oh, I think he was finished. For the night, at least.”
Turning back around, Reka chuckled. “You’re probably right.” She found the tea bags and filled the stainless steel kettle sitting on the stovetop with water before putting it over the blaze.
“So what happened?” Khalil asked when he figured she’d moved around enough to be comfortable with him again. In the car she’d sat close to the door, deep in thought. He hadn’t wanted to bother her, yet he’d wanted to reach out to her, to let her know that he was there.
Folding her arms over her chest, Reka slipped out of her shoes, then leaned against the counter. “He’s always been a pest, coming on to me and thinking he’s all that.” She shrugged. “I guess tonight I just got tired of it.”
She looked vulnerable, fragile, even as she stood amongst the cold décor of stainless steel and light wood in his kitchen. “I saw you dancing with him.” And he hadn’t liked it. The moment he’d spied the man’s hands on her he’d been instantly angered. He’d watched them on the dance floor with Keith standing beside him telling him it was only a dance. Still, he hadn’t liked it. She’d been smiling while the man’s hands were on her waist, her hips—she hadn’t pushed him away then. He wondered why.
Tilting her head, Reka surveyed him. Was he jealous? Or was he angry? She couldn’t quite tell but figured her next response would give her the answer. “He’s the son of the client. The VP of Sensuality, Inc., in training. The reason why we were at that party.” He didn’t respond, and she was betting there were equal amounts of jealousy and anger soaring through him at this very moment. “He asked me to dance. I didn’t want to, but Cienna insisted. We danced.”
“It looked like more than dancing to me.”
Oh, yeah, anger and jealousy, two dangerously ugly creatures daring to rear their heads simultaneously. It was funny because she’d never really imagined Khalil upset or anything besides his normally serious self. “He got a little carried away. I didn’t want to make a scene so I finished the dance and tried to walk away.”
“And he tried to stop you.”
“Yes, he was very persistent.” She was getting the impression that he wanted to say something else. “You saw us, is that what it looked like to you?”
Khalil thought about his answer, waited, gauging the moment, the
level of tension rising in the air and decided that honesty was best. “No. It looked like you were having a good time until he grabbed you.”
Her eyes widened. “Then you do acknowledge that he grabbed me? Twice?”
“I’m telling you what I saw.”
“And I told you what happened.”
They were at a standoff. Reka didn’t know what to say next. Truth be told she didn’t quite trust herself to say anything. Her own anger was rising with the speculation and doubt she saw in Khalil’s eyes.
“You danced with me similarly when you took me to the club. Do you always dance like that?”
What the hell kind of question was that? “Are you serious?” she asked incredulously.
“I’m asking a serious question.”
“You’re being a jerk!” she retorted. “Look, I danced with a client because my boss asked me to and because I didn’t want to make any waves. Dancing does not give permission for anything else. And I don’t care how the dance looked to you. I told him to get lost and he declined so I answered him more affirmatively with my fist.”
Khalil did not waver under the heightened pitch of her voice. “You danced with him like you enjoyed his attention, then you walked away. I’m figuring he wasn’t quite finished and tried to convince you of that fact. I’m not saying you were wrong to defend yourself against unwanted advances. I’m simply pointing out that the dance itself was like an invitation.”
Oh, she was pissed now. Anger had flown out the window about two sentences ago. Pushing away from the counter, she moved until she stood on the other side of the breakfast bar, about two feet away from him. “You’re calling me a tease?” Her fingers clenched on the back of the stool, the knuckles on her right hand still burning.
Khalil looked down at her hands, saw the red swollen digits and got up from his stool. Moving to the refrigerator, he took out an ice tray, then found a dish towel and wrapped a couple of cubes in it. He went to stand beside her, reached out and touched the package to her hand.
Reka pushed his hand away, and ice skittered across the pristine white floor. “Answer my question, Khalil. Are you saying that I asked for his advances?”
Clenching his teeth, Khalil knelt to pick up the pieces, tossing them into the sink. “Again, I’m telling you what I saw.”
That was like answering ‘yes’ to Reka. Turning from him, she grabbed her shoes and slipped them back on, then walked out of the kitchen.
He followed her out into the living room. “Where are you going?”
She stopped at the closet, turned to him with an icy glare. “Home. I wouldn’t want to be accused of teasing you as well.” Pulling out her coat, she hastily slipped her arms inside.
Khalil was beside her in an instant, grabbing her shoulders, turning her to face him. “You’re misunderstanding what I meant.”
“Am I?” she yelled. “Am I misunderstanding that you saw me dancing with Barkley and immediately assumed that I liked his slimy hands on me? That I wanted him to feel me up in a public place? Tell me something, Khalil. Why is that assumption so easy for you to make? Is it because I’m not the pampered, rich goddess that Sonya is? My ’hood rat persona makes me a tease and an easy lay?”
If she had smacked him, or even punched him as she had Barkley, it wouldn’t have hurt or shocked him more. That was not what he’d said to her and that was definitely not what he’d meant. “I didn’t say that, Reka. You’re reading way too much into this.” He put his hands on her shoulders.
It seemed as if she was constantly pulling away from men, and she was frankly sick and tired of them putting their hands on her. She wrenched away from him. “You see, I didn’t ask you to grab me but you did! But I guess since I’m in your apartment I’ve given you the impression that it’s allowed! I don’t have time for this drama, Khalil.” Turning, she made her way to the door.
As soon as she opened it, Khalil reached around her and planted his palm firmly on the door, effectively closing it.
“I want to go home. Are you going to hold me hostage?” she said without turning around.
Khalil closed the small distance between them, pressing his body against her back until she was trapped between the door and him. “No. But I won’t let you go until you understand what I meant.”
She didn’t want to be aroused, didn’t want to feel the heat pooling in her center at his closeness, but her body betrayed her anyway. “I already understand,” she said in a slightly tortured voice.
Moving his hands from the door, he let them fall on her shoulders, then moved them up and down her arms. “I didn’t like seeing his hands on you,” he said quietly, closing his eyes to the vivid memory. “I didn’t like him rubbing so close against you.”
Reka sighed, resting her forehead on the door. “We were only dancing.”
Lowering his head, Khalil whispered directly in her ear. “I didn’t like it.”
Slowly, he peeled her coat away, let it fall to the floor. She didn’t resist him, but she didn’t turn to him either. “He was the client and Cienna asked me to do it,” she told him again.
He kissed her earlobe. “Then I’ll make sure she doesn’t ask you to dance with clients in the future.” Her skin was soft, warming beneath his touch and he felt his own blood heating, his breath raging.
“So I’m not allowed to dance anymore. Is that a condition of this relationship?” Damn, he smelled good. His hard body against her back felt good.
His hands moved from her arms to her waist. Dragging them roughly down her hips and thighs, he grabbed at the material of her dress, pulling it up and over her hips. He kissed her neck, bit her shoulder. All while his hands slipped beneath the rim of her stockings and her panties until he felt the soft curls at her center. “You’re not allowed to feel this way with anybody else. Ever.” Grinding his arousal against her back, he let his fingers slip between her moistened folds, reveling in the gasp he brought from her.
“Khalil,” she whispered. Tonight’s incident, the ride over here, the conversation in the kitchen, all became a foggy haze with his touch.
“That’s right, baby.” Plunging his finger inside her Khalil continued to kiss the bare skin of her neck and shoulders. “Say my name.” His tongue ran a long hot path from her neck up to her jaw and around to her lips where hers quickly joined in the tussle.
“Khalil.” Reka couldn’t help it. She said it again and again as he stroked her persistently, lovingly.
“Mmmhmmm, I’m the one that makes you feel like this. Not the client and not anybody else. Say it again!” he urged her as he pressed another finger inside her.
Reka’s palms flattened on the door, and her nails clawed against the surface. Her knees bending slightly, she rotated her hips to match the movement of his hand. He was absolutely right. Nobody had ever made her feel this way before. “Khalil.” This time it was a helpless whimper, one that undoubtedly told him that he’d made his point because in the next minute his hand moving quickly to pull both her panties and stockings down to her knees and spread her legs open wider.
“Say it again!” he told her as he dropped scorching kisses on her buttocks, the backs of her thighs and then with a helpless groan, to her center.
“Khalil!” She moaned and squirmed with his ministrations. His tongue was loving her, stroking her. The room was spinning, time stood still. She moved against the pressure, the wetness that seeped from her, the heat he was fueling.
The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, crashing against her with a violent, refreshing force. Her legs trembled even as he held her open, held her in place. She whimpered and moaned his name over and over again but he didn’t stop. He continued licking and sucking, consuming her climax as if it were the sweetest honey. She went limp, her entire body succumbing to his will and when she thought she’d simply fall to the floor, he was there, lifting her, carrying her to his bed.
16
Reka had lain next to Khalil all night. He’d watched her sleep, watched her quiet beauty in a
state of pure relaxation. There were no words to adequately describe the way he’d felt when he awakened that morning with her curled up next to him. The moment was so precious he’d breathed deeply to let all that it implied sink in. He’d stroked her skin, touched her hair and cuddled against her, and graciously accepted that she was exactly what he needed.
Her feelings for him seemed to be mutual as she’d made love to him that final time in the wee hours of the morning. She’d whispered promises to him that he wanted desperately to believe. But Sonya’s words echoed in his head. And after seeing Reka with Barkley Peterson, he’d succumbed to jealousy.
Khalil had to acknowledge that he wanted her all to himself. For the first time in his life, selfishness was an active part of his personality where she was concerned and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
For her part, Reka was on top of the world, celebrating an emotional euphoria she’d never believed possible. Khalil was breathtaking. Their night together had been more than she could ever explain. For the first time in her life she was secure in a relationship. Khalil had made his feelings known from day one. He’d kept his word and he’d proved her wrong. While she wasn’t normally up to admitting that she was wrong, this time she was glad to concede.
* * *
Khalil returned to her apartment with her and helped prepare brunch alongside her and Grammy in the kitchen. Then he happily subjected himself to being the only male at a table of opinionated women. Reka laughed and talked and simply enjoyed the time with him and with her family. After brunch her mother went to take a nap. Grammy remained at the kitchen table playing dominoes and talking to anyone who admitting to listening to her. Wanting a little bit of privacy, Reka and Khalil moved into the living room.
When the phone rang, Reka dragged herself away from him to answer it. After a brief conversation she returned to the living room. “Cienna says she and Keith are cooking on the grill and that we should come out and join them.” Dropping onto the couch beside Khalil, she let her hand fall to his thigh.
