I sank down on the bed beside her. “I’m sorry—”
“Fuck your pity.”
“Fuck you! I was apologizing for being nosy, goddamnit!” I yanked my T-shirt over my head and threw it in the corner, then headed for the shower, hoping she’d calm down by the time I got out.
The bedroom was dark, and Cherise was curled up on her side, a fist tucked under her chin. I stood beside the bed, water dripping down my back, and stared at her, trying to figure out if she was really asleep or not. The air conditioner kicking on forced me to finish drying off and get dressed. I curled up next to her and kissed her bare back.
If someone had told me back in June that this was going to be the longest, hottest summer of my life, I would have laughed at them or thought they were just talking about the weather. But as the weeks had flown by, piling up on each other, I’d found myself sucked deeper and deeper into Cherise’s world. At the same time, I never seemed to get any closer to her, and that bothered me…a lot.
But at least now I knew why.
Rolling away, I stretched out on my back and watched the lights from an adjacent building play across the ceiling.
“You’re awful quiet.” She rolled over to face me but couldn’t seem to look at me. Her forehead pressed against my arm.
“So are you.” Matter of fact, she’d been quiet all day. Not that she was normally a talker to begin with, but today was different in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and our mini-fight hadn’t helped.
“You want me, you’re gonna have to take me as I am, D’Angelo.”
I’d already figured that out. “Just give me a chance, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”
She snuggled against me, naked, warm, and sweet. “Hungry?”
“Hell no. Between Lanie’s barbecue and Aunt Glo’s ribs, I’ll be stuffed for a week.”
“You too stuffed to fool around?” she asked, running a hand up my leg.
“Never.”
7
W hoever was lying next to me didn’t feel or smell like Cherise. I forced my eyes open, my belly clenching in fear at what I’d find.
On the contrary, she was a tiny black girl. I knew her name but couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.
When Cherise said I had to take her as she was, I didn’t realize that meant things would get progressively crazier. Here it was, not even two weeks after our Labor Day spat and I’d let her talk me into what could only be called an orgy. The details were sketchy but there had been five of us last night.
I shifted my legs, then tried to roll over and realized I couldn’t. There was another body wedged at my back, and I hoped like hell it was a woman.
Trista…Tawny…Whatever her name was, the girl in front of me wriggled her bottom against me, but my poor dick didn’t even twitch.
My arm was stuck under the pillow cradling her head. How the hell am I going to free myself? Get out of this bed? Panic set in quickly, but I forced it back, forced myself to stay calm. I shifted the tiniest bit, relieved to see Cherise on the far edge of the king-size bed. I was in a hotel room, and pieces of the previous night came drifting back in a way that made me wince.
Besides the black girl, there was a couple separating Cherise and me. A young, very good-looking couple we’d met up with at the bar last night. And the first time we’d ever just gone with strangers.
I’d spanked her, the pretty redhead curled up against her husband now. I’d spanked her last night, and then, at her husband’s encouragement, fucked her in the ass. Never mind that she’d liked it, or that, at the time I’d liked it, too, the thought that I’d fucked a married woman while her husband had watched and gotten off on it made me slightly queasy now.
I tiptoed across the floor, which was littered with clothes and condom wrappers, and finally located my clothes and shoes, except for my underwear, which was nowhere to be found. Movement from one of the bodies in the bed propelled me out the door without them and without Cherise. Easing the door closed, I winced at the chill of the wet concrete under my feet.
It had rained last night, the type of rain that left everything fresh and clean, or as fresh and clean as Houston ever got. That only made me feel worse. Hell, from the sound of it even the fucking birds were happy.
I eased down the stairs to the sidewalk while rubbing my aching head and wondering where the hell I’d parked my car. Disengaging the alarm helped me find it. I gave a prayer of thanks I hadn’t wrecked it or killed someone, because I’d been in no shape to drive last night.
I’d never been so relieved to be home. I locked the door and turned off the phone’s ringer, then stripped and showered. I’d have to take my clothes to the basement laundry room later today. I didn’t feel right washing those clothes in my mother’s washer. I was too embarrassed to see her right now anyway, or my dad.
By the time I climbed out of the shower, all the hot water was gone, but I didn’t feel much better. I brushed my teeth three times, gargled twice, then threw on some pajama bottoms Mom had gotten me for Christmas. Under the cool, clean sheets of my own bed, I stretched out and tried to force myself to sleep. It was almost impossible with the scratches on my back stinging and a raging hangover. It only got worse as more bits and pieces of last night came back to me, and I realized just how far down I’d let Cherise drag me. Yeah, I knew I’d let her. I was just as responsible as her.
And no, hell no, I didn’t feel bad for leaving Cherise behind. She was a big girl and could take care of herself, probably better than I could. Okay, I felt a little bad after the fact, but all I’d been able to think about was getting the hell out of that hotel room.
I’d just dozed off when a pounding at the door had me grumpily sliding from the bed. In my disoriented, half-asleep, blind-from-late-morning-sunshine state, I hadn’t even figured out who it was when they pushed their way inside, hollering at the top of their lungs. “Man, where the fuck you been? You don’t call, you don’t write? What’s a brother gotta do?”
Kevin.
Fatigue, a hangover, and remorse weighing heavily on me, I slumped against the wall and pushed the door closed. Rubbing my eyes, I forced myself to focus on my friend.
Kevin headed for the couch, his mouth working nonstop. “Fuckin’ even your mama don’t know where you are anymore. Not that she’d tell me if she did. She hates my ass.” His grin slowly disappeared as he looked me over.
I shuffled into the living room behind him and pretty much fell into the leather easy chair, at a loss for words. “I think I’m in trouble,” I muttered.
“Well you look like shit. What’d that white chick do to you?”
“She’s a fucking freak. A major freak,” I croaked, sinking deeper in the chair, “and, apparently, so am I.”
“Aw hell,” he drawled. He sat up and propped his elbows on his knees, ready to hear every dirty detail.
“Be right back.” I got us both a Coke from the fridge and three ibuprofen for my head, then filled him in on just how far I’d sunk. By the time I finished, it even sounded bad to me. Worse than bad. Though I wasn’t really sure what qualified as worse than bad.
“You had sex with three other people? With another man?” Seeing Kevin speechless was almost worth my misery.
“Four,” I said hoarsely, part of me glad I couldn’t remember everything that had happened the previous night. “And technically I just had sex with another man in the room.” With another man’s wife and probably another woman.
Kevin burped, excused himself, and then scrubbed at his forehead with the palm of his hand before smoothing it across his bald head. A sure sign of frustration. “I don’t know whether to high-five your ass or chew you out! So you like this chick?”
“Yeah,” I said thoughtfully. Right then, I wished I didn’t like her so much.
“Doesn’t sound good.”
“I can’t figure out how to get out of this shit-hole mess I’m in.” As much as I wanted Cherise, I didn’t want her life. Which didn’t leave me with many alternativ
es.
“Dump her,” Kevin suggested.
“Don’t want to, that’s the problem.”
She was my drug now, my drug of choice, but maybe a few days away would help me put things in perspective.
8
G oing cold turkey had been a sucky option, but it had also been my only option. I avoided Cherise for over a week, despite the fact I was jonesing just to hear her voice. I knew better than to talk to her until I had a plan and some fucking balls firmly in place.
More than anything, I needed a break from the sex.
Something I never thought I’d think, let alone say. And no, I didn’t say it. If I had, Cherise would have blown me off like last year’s lipstick.
Instead, I talked her into dinner with just the two of us, rather than another trip to The Manor.
“So what, uh, prompted this?” she asked when we reached the restaurant, her hand on the car door. The pale yellow wraparound dress she wore clung to every curve, and with her pale blond hair piled on top of her head, she looked classy…and damned sexy.
“I wanted to do something different.” My hand on her bare back, I led her toward the restaurant’s red double doors. “That okay with you?”
“Sure, but it’s not our anniversary or anything.”
“Does it have to be a special occasion for us to do something nice?” Something on neutral ground where I could keep the situation under control.
For the first time in all the months we’d been together, we got a look, a hard cool once-over from the maitre d’. I’d been here before with another woman and he hadn’t even flinched. But then, she was mixed, like me. And the people we’d been hanging out with didn’t give a shit about what you looked like.
For all of thirty seconds, I seriously thought about taking Cherise somewhere else. Then I muttered, “Fuck it” under my breath. Cherise frowned at me, obviously confused, and I shook my head.
“We have reservations.” And my suit probably cost more than the older man’s tux.
“You okay?” she asked once our reservations were finally located and we were seated.
“Yeah.” I’d gotten looks like that my whole life, people who couldn’t pigeonhole me, fit me in a box because my hair wasn’t black and my eyes were green. And it wasn’t just white folks doin’ it.
Luckily our waitress was a lot more discreet—or just didn’t give a shit.
We’d barely gotten our entrées—pork tenderloin in a ginger sauce for her and a steak for me—when Cherise brought up the subject of the club.
“Want to stop by The Manor later?”
Hell no! “I thought we’d go back to my place.”
“Whatever.” She shrugged, casually rolling her shoulders, but she wouldn’t look at me for the longest time. “Sure.”
I couldn’t tell if she was mad because I didn’t want to go to the club or because I’d left her behind last Sunday morning. That and the fact I’d avoided her phone calls for a week and a half hung between us, or at least it did for me. “About last Sunday…”
Cherise set her fork down and sipped at her wine, a guarded expression on her face. I got the feeling she wanted to be anywhere but here with me right now.
“I’m sorry for just up and…leaving you.”
She waved it off, but her laughter was brittle, her eyes hard. “No sweat.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No.” She shook her head, refusing to look at me again until after the waitress came and took our plates away. Then she leaned forward, her back ramrod straight as she gave me a hard assessing look. “Look, D’Angelo, I need to tell you something.”
Oh, shit. Before she could speak, the waitress reappeared to fill our wineglasses and leave the check.
“Are you sure about that dessert?” I asked Cherise. “We could split some chocolate cake?” I was stalling.
“I’m positive.”
I took a deep breath, forcing my heart to slow down. “Go on, then.”
Eyebrows arched, she glanced down at the linen tablecloth, then back up at me. “I’m leaving.”
Talk about out of left field. “Leaving?” I whispered.
The bottom fell out of my stomach, and I wished she’d said something before dinner instead of after. “Why?” I frowned, my face suddenly hot. “I…I thought…why?”
“It’s…time. It’s just time for me to move on.” She shrugged and her eyes slowly drifted around the almost empty dining room. No wonder she hadn’t been able to look at me all night.
Around us the few remaining diners continued eating, silverware clanking on plates, people laughing. I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and threw my AmEx on the tray with the check, desperate to get out of the restaurant before I caused a scene.
“You think?” I sighed, unable to catch my breath. “You think it’s time?”
“That’s what I do.” She said it so casually we could have been discussing how she polished someone’s nails, not the fact that she was leaving town, leaving me.
I glanced at the waitress, waiting until she was out of earshot before responding. “‘That’s what you do?’” I hissed, getting madder by the second. “Fuck ’em and leave ’em?”
“Yup.” Her pink cheeks told me she was embarrassed despite her matter-of-fact tone of voice.
I scribbled my name on the receipt and stood up. A very subdued Cherise followed suit. She was more subdued than I’d ever seen her as I led outside.
A cool breeze washed away the humidity from earlier in the day. She shivered against me as we crossed the dimly lit parking lot, both of us lost in our heads.
“You’re okay with me leaving, aren’t you?” she softly asked. As if she had doubts.
“What if I said no?” As if I could influence her decision. I kept my eyes focused on the light across the street.
I wasn’t okay at all with her leaving.
Her grip on my arm tightened and she leaned against me. “I’m sorry.”
I believed her, but I still didn’t like it. And I had the strangest feeling that, despite her insistence, she didn’t like it either.
While Cherise was in the powder room, I hustled around lighting the new candles I’d bought just for tonight. I’d gone all out, putting them on the mantle, the coffee table and end tables, even the nightstands. The screen that separated the sleeping and living area glowed, and jasmine and vanilla slowly permeated the room.
I cracked open a Riesling I knew she liked and poured us both a glass as she rejoined me.
“You do all right for an air-conditioning man,” she teased. “I always liked that about you.”
Glass in hand, she crossed the room, and I followed. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed. I set my glass on the nightstand next to hers and knelt at her feet, letting my fingertips trail up the back of her calves. She hadn’t worn pantyhose, but then, she never did.
I slipped her shoes off and filled my hands with lotion from the bottle I’d left on the nightstand.
“You had all this planned…for me?”
“For us, yeah.”
Leaning closer, she ran her hand across my head and down the side of my face. It was a rare show of feeling, of tenderness, from Cherise, who wasn’t the emotional type.
“What are you doin’, D?”
“I owe you a foot massage.” I slathered her foot with her favorite lotion and worked my way over each toe, across her arch to her heel. She sighed in pleasure, her eyes slowly closing. “That feels…heavenly.”
“Lay back,” I whispered. I licked my lips and focused. This would probably be our last night together. I could ask her to stay. I should ask her to stay, but I wasn’t going to. It wouldn’t do any good. And the last thing I wanted was for us to fight—not tonight.
Tonight was about loving, not fighting.
Cherise didn’t seem to have the strength to argue or to take the seduction I was pulling on her away from me. She did as I instructed, her thighs pressed tightly together. I smiled. When push c
ame to shove, she wouldn’t resist.
I stopped long enough to slip off my shirt, then went back to work. My fingers slid higher, massaging her calves until they relaxed. I gently pushed her thighs apart and moved between them so she couldn’t close them again. Now they rested against my sides, the heat of her skin scorching me, distracting me as I worked my way up the back of her calves and crept under her dress. A small moan slipped out when I pushed her legs farther apart and worked at the tender skin of her inner thighs. She begged me to take her panties off and go down on her.
Instead, I untied her dress and pushed it open. “Not yet.”
The candlelight played across her tanned skin, and her nipples puckered as a breeze strong enough to lift the sheers touched us both.
“Feel good?”
“Oh, yeah.” She said it so softly I almost didn’t hear her.
She hooked her thumbs in her thong and made to lift her legs, but my arms held her in place.
She groaned in frustration, her whole body tense under me again. “Damnit, D’Angelo, would you fuck me already?”
My fingers dug deep circles into the tops of her thighs. “No.”
Love, lust, and the thrill of being the one in charge almost made me laugh. If all I had left was one night with her, we were doing it my way.
“No?” She struggled to sit up on her elbows and practically shouted, “What the hell do you mean, no?”
“I won’t fuck you.” I straddled her hips with my pants still on. They rubbed, lightly against her pussy, but not where she wanted it, not where it’d do the most good, and we both knew it. She was pinned so she couldn’t arch her hips, couldn’t find the friction, the relief, I knew she wanted.
“Then what the hell are you doing?” she whispered harshly, her chest heaving. Even in the dim light she couldn’t hide her frustration.
I leaned down until we were nearly nose to nose, until I could see what looked like fear in her wide blue eyes. “Making love to you.”
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