The Rhyme of Love (Love in Rhythm & Blues Book 2)

by Love Belvin

  He nodded, eyes straight ahead. There it was. That calm nature. I wasn’t fucking crazy when I sensed it. I felt it. He didn’t fight me on it. The heat from his body crept around my chilled frame. His scent was fresh and manly. And god, his beard was trimmed with precision, dark, and full. My nipples peaked and we weren’t even touching.

  “I gotta ask you something,” he murmured, eyes ahead, out of the window.

  “Mmhmmmm…” I encouraged him to go on as I pushed back on the table, lifting my butt onto it and scooting back.

  Raj’s eyes trailed my legs as they parted and I shuffled until I was square in front of him. The look of manly anticipation made me want to giggle. It heated me in the center, too.

  “I want you to go away with me.”

  I batted my lashes, being silly, but Raj was all for it. “When? Where?”

  “Sunday. And a few places. For a week.”

  His warm hands grazed my ankles and swept up to my knees. My neck almost gave out as I rested back on my elbows.

  “Sunday?” I whispered, eyes closing as his beard roved over the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh.

  “Yup. And you can’t say no because of the party or looking for a lawyer. The party will be done and you ain’t got no money for a good lawyer.” His curled lashes batted, softening his dig. “I’ll get one for you.”

  When he bit into my flesh, my legs coiled and head rolled over the table.

  “Wynnie…”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I wanna eat your pussy.”

  “I know,” I damn near moaned.

  “But if I do, and make you come with these shorts on, you gotta do something for me.”

  Anything…

  “What?”

  “Invite me to your family’s party the day before I take you away.”

  Damn it!

  That was the last thing I wanted. Hell, I’d go anywhere with him. But subjecting him to my crazy ass family wasn’t what I had in mind to do like…ever! Shit.

  “Okay…”

  Raj rained soft, teasing kisses up my thighs, dizzying me. When his tongue snaked through the thin material of my shorts, my head was against the table and thighs spread wide.

  Less than a minute.

  Less than a minute!

  That’s how long it took for me to implode and come in my shorts.

  “Holy shiiiiit,” I breathed, eyes blindly rolling around the bar.

  “Yup,” Jemah sipped from her third mint julep cocktail and nodded her head.

  “So what about Jon…Irv?”

  “I don’t know yet. I haven’t heard from Irv, but Jon said he was gonna request a meeting with Dave and Jax this week when I spoke to him a few days ago. He’s really fucked up over this.”

  “I would be, too!” I needed clarity. “So, they didn’t pass the boot camp process, which means they won’t be offered publishing deals through the label.”

  “Yup.”

  “But they’re still signed to L.I.T. Music with a recording deal?”

  She went for another sip. “Uh-huhn.”

  “But they won’t be going out on that tour this summer?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Neither will they be on the schedule to finish recording their album?”

  “Correct.” She sat back, nodding.

  My eyes roved the small cocktail table between us. “So, what does this mean for them?”

  “They’ve been shelved, honey.”

  “What?”

  “It’s what labels do when they don’t wanna fuck with the act no more, or when they wanna fuck with the act, and not let them make music—”

  “…and therefore money,” I concluded the revelation.

  “You got it. Here…” She pushed my martini glass closer to me. “Drink up. It’s still a celebration here, bitches!”

  Though it was dry, I tried to laugh. Jemah flew in from Chicago last night to sign her contract with L.I.T. Music. She was chosen, too. Unlike me, she signed right away.

  It had been four days since Jackson Hunter’s wedding and the time had been crazy. Not only had I been back and forth to Garfield, cleaning MaMa’s house and buying shit for the party, but I’d also been running errands for Van while he was at work. Paperwork had to be signed and delivered…just a whole bunch of crazy shit I dutifully took care of for him. I shopped for the getaway Raj had planned, even though I still had no details for it other than to dress warm.

  This morning, I met with an attorney Raj arranged for. He was sent the contract on Monday and was ready to explain the details of it when I arrived. According to him, it was pretty straightforward and standard for this type of venture. He laid out its features in laymen’s terms as I took notes on an app on my phone. What I froze at was the exclusivity clause. The term was three years that I couldn’t write, produce, or consult on any music outside of L.I.T. Music. Before I began camp, that was fine and made perfect sense.

  Since starting a new venture—that was still nameless—with Raj, the prospect seemed stifling. If I was being honest, it was because I had a problem with not being able to work with Raj. Laughable, but true. He may not have had a stupid desire in his body to work on music with a novice like me. Yet here I was, not wanting to close the door on that option. Raj was good at what he did, a musician through and through. It seemed unwise to not drink from the endless fountain in your yard just to go blocks and blocks away to drink from a company, that could discard you the way I’d just learned they’d done B City.

  I sipped my drink and placed it back on the table, needing more answers.

  “You think all of this was because of Raj and me?”

  Swallowing, Jemah shook her head. “From what Jon said Teke was doing shady shit like this with other label heads and writing for them.” She leaned in although I was sure no one in this half-filled bar on a Wednesday evening could hear our conversation. “Jon said the execs at L.I.T. don’t even know this yet, but Teke recorded a track with a new Atlantic artist. And they ain’t gonna sit on the track. They’re trying to go full throttle on her marketing.” She sat up. “But I do—we all think them being shelved had to do with you and Raj, though. Everybody know L.I.T. Music’s been wanting to sign Raj for over a year now. They been kissing his ass!”

  I swallowed hard then went for my drink to distract me. I did know that. Raj has been stalling his “no” for some time.

  “And we all knew Young Lord fucks with Raj. We kept telling Teke to chill back in boot camp, but his arrogance, man…” She shook her head and whistled. “I’m surprised you ain’t know.”

  “I didn’t. This is all news to me. I haven’t spoken to anyone since that crazy episode back in L.A.”

  I was still embarrassed by that.

  “I’m from Chi-town, Southside. I see far worse. I guess it caught me off guard to see it go down that morning. But Teke had to wear that one, though. Everybody was telling him to go easy behind your back. You threw us off by not acting like you was married, though.”

  I wanted to remind her of all the screaming she did out there but knew Jemah had a few in her and was likely embellishing. I settled on something else.

  “And how does a married woman act?”

  “I ‘on’t know.” She shrugged with her neck. “In love. Name dropping. Always on the phone. Posting about missing him and shit.”

  “We were in a bad place, but very much married,” I tried to deliver without my defensiveness being so obvious.

  “A few of us figured that much that last work night when you flipped after hearing his track.” My phone vibrated and lit on my lap. It was Raj. Again. “I get relationships,” she offered before downing the last of her drink.

  Raj: You still in the city?

  Me: Yeah. I’ll hit you when I get home.

  Damn…

  As weird as that sounded, it was my reality. I hadn’t seen Raj since he left the apartment in Jersey City last Sunday after my legs stopped shivering over the kitchen table. He had rehe
arsals to begin for his tour that would start in mid-May, which was relatively soon. How this man thought he could sneak in a “getaway” was beyond me.

  And shit, did I miss him. We talked morning, noon, and night since Sunday. He’d been staying in Sparta, needing to produce and lay vocals for the upcoming concert. He had a whole team up there and was working on new material. He’d asked me to come up several times, resulting in a bet because I was busy here, out east.

  Raj: You been there drinking all this time and think you gonna drive home?

  Me: Jersey City’s just a stone’s throw. Besides I took an Uber over, knowing I’d be drinking.

  And while I accounted for that aspect of drinking, what I didn’t consider was how fucking horny I’d be at just the thought of him. Each time Jemah mentioned his name, my breasts would tingle and nipples sting. It was maddening. But it was also unusual. Raj and I found ourselves in uncharted territory with our relationship. He claimed to be in love with me, and I still struggled with being legally married. I may have been able to convince people like Jemah that Raj and I were just in a bad place a few weeks ago, but I hadn’t been able to fool myself into understanding just where we were.

  But I wanted him. Damn, I wanted him. As I sat across from Jemah, pretending to be interested in people watching as she typed into her phone, I craved him. I had a whole lover but hadn’t seen him in days. And he was in love with me. Laughable.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Huhn?” I glanced over to Jemah.

  “I asked what was so funny.”

  My eyes flew wide. “Was I laughing?”

  “Yeah!” She giggled, eyes shrunken in inebriation. “You were totally laughing over there, and by the looks of it, it was something juicy—” Her expression went ghosted, peering up at something behind me. “Ohhhhh!”

  “Shit!” I screamed at her. “What?”

  Her eyes didn’t move from over me. That’s when I yanked my head to look behind me.

  Raj was standing near the bar, sporting a gray sweat suit with the hood pulled partially over his head. Behind him, Lil Bruh faced the other way while scratching his head under a Connecticut Kings fitted cap. And Danny G was more alert—always more alert with Raj—as his eyes scanned Raj’s parameters, ready to intercept an overzealous fan. I guessed he had to be in a bar.

  What in the hell?

  I turned back to Jemah, who was now smiling dreamily. “Damn, he’s hot.”

  “You’re drunk,” I reminded her, sitting up to collect my things. “I’m glad your hotel is down the block. Let me get you there.”

  Jemah waved a dismissive hand. “Girl, I ain’t even going back to my room. My cousin lives here…a NYU student. That was her I was texting. I’m going to a party, so I can wake up in somebody’s bed in the morning…preferably a hot, single man with a big ass dick. Go!” She waved again. “Be with your super dope husband.”

  I didn’t know how I felt about leaving her here, so I hesitated.

  “Oh, here she is!” Jemah waved someone to her.

  Oh…

  I stood and welcomed Jemah into a hug and promised to hit her up when I had my decision about L.I.T. Music. After waving hello to her cousin on my way out of our booth, I made my way over to Raj on unsteady feet.

  “You’re so fucking busted!” I accused, falling into his arms.

  “Slow down, shawtie!” He chuckled. “I’m glad I did come through.”

  “Come through?” I combed my fingers through his beard as my head dipped back to peer into his face. Was I tipsy? Suddenly I felt it. And now under his auburns and against his heated frame, I felt gooey down low. “Why are you even here?”

  “The last two times you asked me that, you slapped fire out of me. You sure you wanna do that in public?” His smirk swelled my sex. I could feel it.

  “You totally lost the bet.” I tossed my head further back and cackled.

  “Nah. I just pulled up to make sure you was good.”

  “Raj,” I cocked my head to the side. “You pulled up to Manhattan from your Dad’s gym in New Brunswick? You think I was born yesterday?”

  His cheeks lifted. “No need for you to take an Uber if I’m here.”

  He maneuvered me under his arm, his hand stretched out over my ass as we walked out of the bar.

  “And what’re you gonna do? Walk me to my door like a gentleman when we get to the apartment?” I gasped. “I wonder what you’re gonna do when you leave for your tour?” My brows arched with sarcasm.

  The truck was illegally parked in the front, and Raj helped me in. When he entered himself, he slid my limp frame into him. Before I could crack a corny joke, his big palm was at my chin, pulling me into his mouth for a kiss. It was one I gladly and eagerly welcomed. My jaw went lax and eyes rolled to the back of my head the moment his lithe tongue swept the roof of my mouth. His breathing was crude, fanning my face, melting my core. He smelled of Rage for Men, his cologne.

  My hands were greedy, wanted to be all over him. Wanted to pull at the barbell of his Apa piercing to tease him like I knew he’d enjoy. But I refrained. We’d wagered a bet to wait for sex until his getaway. It was stupid and not my idea, but I was always up for a good bet. Plus, I thought it’d be painless, considering the loads of shit I had to do this week. Until this… Until Raj showed unexpectedly while I was under the influence and after not seeing him for days. Whomever broke the agreement would lose. We were only in his truck. He hadn’t lost yet. But as a moan escaped my jumpy belly and my palms misted from the fluidness of his tongue, I now wondered who was closer to the finish line of the bet. My clit throbbed, and blood rushed in my head so fiercely my ears rang.

  He withdrew. Shit. Slowly, I forced my eyes open, thrilled to see his were just as low as mine.

  Raj smiled sweetly, likely knowing of my near undoing. “How was your day?”

  My brows narrowed. “Since I spoke to you earlier?” He nodded in earnest. I took a deep breath thrown by the innocuous question. “Uh…” My mind rewound to the events of my day. “It was busy…good.”

  “Yeah?” he uttered softly, sincerely wanting more. “How’d it go with the lawyer?”

  Oh…

  “Good. I think. He said the contract was pretty standard…specific.”

  “Fair?”

  I shrugged with my head. “He thinks so.” DeLuca was a tenured entertainment attorney.

  “Okay. Are you comfortable enough to make the decision?”

  My eyes fell and I shook my head, sadness engulfing me out of nowhere. I rolled my eyes out the window and saw we were threading through traffic.

  I turned back to him. “How was your day? You had lunch with Ezra,” I recalled. “How did it go?”

  “Meh.” He shrugged. “We kicked it a bit.”

  That threw me off. “Okay…”

  I didn’t want to pressure him to share a conversation between him and someone he had an intimate relationship with, such as Ezra.

  “He said a symptom of childhood abuse is attachment,” he muttered under the music being played.

  “What?” my tone was respectfully low.

  “I’m not saying it right; he used another term. But when I told him about my obsession with you—”

  “Obsession?” I yelped that.

  Raj snorted. His amusement underscored his unapologetic state.

  I angled my head, deathly serious. “Is that what you think? After four days, you’re obsessed?” I was concerned.

  “My feelings didn’t start after the wedding. I’ve been feeling like this since January. I told you, I’m in love—”

  My face swung away from him. “Yeah. That part.” I didn’t want to go there. “Did Ezra tell you that liking someone isn’t being obsessed with them?” I turned back to him. “Just because you like a girl doesn’t mean you’re obsessed.”

  “But I think about you all the time—even when you’re mad at me.” He scoffed. “Even when I’m mad at you.”

  “Thinking about the person y
ou like a lot when they’re not around isn’t obsession.”

  Raj belted out a hearty laugh, his deep vocals rolling over and over. It was as though he was the subject of his amusement. “I think about your pussy all day.”

  “And you don’t think I recount the grooves in your Apa?”

  “I hope it’s not just the Apa that’s got memorable grooves.” The smirk on his face spoke to his sense of humor, but the sparkle in his eyes told me this man had strong feelings for me.

  Obsession? No. But something I could feel? Yes.

  “Raj…”

  “Why’re you hesitating with the L.I.T. deal?”

  That thought roiled in my belly. I took a deep breath and sat back further in the seat.

  “It’s a three year deal. Exclusive.” Only my eyes roved over to him.

  “And?”

  “And three years is a huge commitment to just one entity. I don’t think I want that restriction and for so long.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  I peered out the window, noting we were back in Jersey. “The last exclusive contract I signed for three years was to you.”

  “Okay…”

  And that’s when it all hit me. I turned to him, took in a fortifying breath. “You haven’t signed with them. Why should I?”

  His only reaction was a nod of understanding as his regard went elsewhere, considering that.

  “I’ve been in the industry for a minute.”

  “I know.”

  “And I don’t make most of my bread from what my label gives. I didn’t do a 360 deal, which gives the label—”

  “A chunk of everything you own. I just left boot camp, I know.”

  “Your deal would be different. You’re not a recording artist. You’re a composer.”

  A composer married to the most gifted voice I’d ever known. Raj was foolishly humble about the amount of talent he possessed. He was more concerned with musicianship than his unmatched vocals. There was only one other modern day male artist with his registry and tone—and that dude wasn’t even making music. He damn sure wasn’t even half as fine as Ragee.

  Now I felt silly for overthinking this. It was difficult to articulate my feelings and I already had to deal with what Raj and I were at this point. Going the past few days without seeing him didn’t better clarify the terms of our relationship.