She ran her hands through his short hair, down his broad shoulders, and along the many dips and planes of his back, while she remained lost in a world that she’d long forgotten.
“You taste so good,” he breathed huskily against her ear, his struggle for control reflected in his voice.
“I want to taste you now,” she said, slowly rolling onto her side, and then over still to take the top position. She copied his earlier moves by gently nibbling his neck, placing soft kisses along his collarbone, and finally gliding her tongue down to flick teasingly over his own hardened nipples.
She laughed when his body quivered beneath her.
“Girl, you’re something else,” he said with a rumble of laughter that filled the room.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” She eyed and reached for the condoms lying on the nightstand and read the box. “Orgasm control? Deluxe size?”
He rolled his eyes. “Please don’t ask.”
“Now, you’ve really got me curious. Let’s see if I can get you out of these pants.”
He helped her do just that and when he sat naked before her, all humor faded and her only response was, “Oh, my.”
The control he exhibited while her silky hands slid on the condom was something for the record books. “Come here. I want to play with you some more first,” he said, gently shifting her to lie beside him.
And play with her he did. Over a long while, he kissed, sucked, and worshipped her body in a way that may have been considered indecent to some, but was downright pleasurable to Brooklyn. Her hands gripped the bedcovers in a steel vise as her body soared with each mind-shattering orgasm.
Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, Isaiah entered her and stole her very breath. She was consumed by the fullness of him as he rocked smoothly inside her; each stroke drove her that much closer to the edge of oblivion. Shamelessly, her hips met his every thrust while her raspy moans mingled with his. “Oh, God.”
It was as if their bodies were making beautiful music together. Brooklyn could hear an orchestra building to a climactic crescendo in her head. In all her years of marriage, she’d never experienced rapture like this before.
Isaiah knew what heaven looked like, felt like, and tasted like. It was everything that was in his arms. He was certain of that much.
Slowly her arms slid around his back and her nails sank into his skin. He winced at the sweet pain, while his thrusts plunged deeper.
Brooklyn soared, reveling in the ecstasy and wonder he provided. She was lost in a turbulent whirlpool of emotion as she thrashed among the pillows. A fire lit in her intimate core and within seconds had built into an uncontrollable inferno. Isaiah must have been scorched by the flames, for his cry for relief matched her own.
The lovers’ movements became frenzied as they raced toward an unseen finish line. A familiar sensation ebbed its way into her soul, then its violent eruption vibrated through her body.
Isaiah’s grip on her waist tightened as his roar of release left him trembling.
However, it was just round one for the uninhibited lovers. As the night wore on, they experimented with different positions, some becoming an instant favorite with Brooklyn, others a favorite for Isaiah. But one thing was certainly clear for Brooklyn: she would never forget this night.
Chapter 5
Just before 5:00 a.m. Brooklyn stood by the window, wearing Isaiah’s torn shirt and gazing at the bright lights of Times Square. The streets were alive with people and music. What she wouldn’t give to prolong this night, to somehow thwart the sun from ever rising and delivering her back to the hell that was her life.
The sound of footsteps approaching from behind didn’t startle her, neither did the pair of arms enfolding her, but the gentle kiss against her neck won a sly smile.
“What are you thinking about?” Isaiah asked, nuzzling her neck again. His hard, naked body pressed against her and reversed the course of her negative thoughts.
“How can a girl think with you around doing that?”
“Doing what?” He peeled back the shirt’s collar in order to gain access to her sensitive shoulders.
She shivered with delight when an army of goose bumps marched up her spine. “I think the next time you do something like this, you should give the woman fair warning about your stamina.”
His laughter was a low seductive rumble. “You should talk.”
Brooklyn turned in his arms. “Let’s just say that I have a strong competitive side.”
“You’ll get no complaints from me.” He stole a kiss and when their lips withdrew, he studied her. “You never told me what you were thinking about.”
Her smile fluttered weakly. “Actually, I was thinking about us and this night. I wish it would never end.”
He kissed her again. “You know, it doesn’t have to.”
Her gaze shot up to his. His eyes were even more striking in the moonlight. A surge of regret hit her like a ton of steel bricks. “A relationship is not possible.”
Disappointment chiseled its way into his handsome features, but it disappeared as he finally managed a crooked smile. “Nothing is impossible.”
Resolving not to ruin what was left of their time together, she leaned up on her toes and slowly kissed each lid of his eyes, the tip of his nose, and then finally extracted a long mind-shattering kiss. “Are you up for another round?” she asked.
Isaiah’s brows rose with surprise. “We keep this up and I’ll have to run down for a new box of condoms.”
Brooklyn laughed, and then allowed the shirt to slide from her shoulders.
“But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” He laughed, swooped her up in his arms, and carried her back to bed.
At 7:00 a.m. Brooklyn woke once again and found herself propped against Isaiah’s muscled chest. She snuggled against him, content to lie beside him for as long as possible; but the morning light brought reality to her consciousness and tears to her eyes. And still she lay there.
Isaiah moaned in his sleep and draped an arm across her hip. She stared down at it, still amazed by how comfortable their bodies were together.
Gently, she turned in his arms and found herself within inches of Isaiah’s sleeping face. Awed by his handsomeness, she smiled and then tried to etch each detail into memory. Lord, she wanted to stay.
But, it was impossible.
She reached up and tenderly traced her finger over his strong features and lingered at his lips. Why did it feel as if she were leaving a part of herself behind? It didn’t make sense. She inched herself up on the bed and kissed him.
Despite being asleep, Isaiah kissed her back.
She waited a few minutes and then eased herself out of bed. The room was a mess. The bedspread, sheets, and pillows were sprawled across the floor, as well as the overturned lamp and discarded clothes.
Quietly, she gathered her things, while casting anxious glances over at the bed. Once dressed, she lingered at the door, staring at the sleeping Isaiah. In her hand, she held his torn shirt—a memento.
“Goodbye,” she whispered and slipped out the door.
A few minutes later, Brooklyn returned to her floor and sneaked back to her own suite, praying she’d be able to enter beneath Toni’s supersonic radar. In hindsight, she realized she should have called. The last thing she wanted was to have her friends worry over her whereabouts.
She eased into the room and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Toni snuggled comfortably in her bed. She tiptoed to her bags and stuffed the torn shirt inside. She grabbed a few personal items, and rushed into the bathroom for a shower. Once she was standing beneath the shower’s steady stream, snapshots of her late-night rendezvous flashed behind her closed eyelids, evoking a delicious warmth throughout her body.
She ran her soapy hands across her shoulders and imagined they were Isaiah’s strong fingers, gliding across her breasts and along her stomach. Her head tilted back in sweet torment. That man’s mojo certainly had her caught up in a spe
ll—one she wasn’t sure she wanted to break.
“Are you planning to be in there all morning?” Toni’s voice boomed through the bathroom door, startling Brooklyn.
“I’ll be out in a minute.” She expelled a frustrated breath. She wasn’t looking forward to going through the day with so little sleep, but last night was definitely worth whatever misery the day dished out.
She shut off the shower, wrapped herself in a towel, and hurried to open the bathroom door.
Toni stood with her arms folded across her chest. “Since when did you become so shy? Why did you lock the door?”
Brooklyn waved off her interrogation. “Sorry. I must have done it without thinking.”
Minutes later, the two friends shared the bathroom mirror while they applied their makeup.
Toni frowned at her.
“What?” Brooklyn stopped coating her eyelashes in midstroke.
“You’re humming.”
Brooklyn shrugged. “Yeah, so?”
Toni stared at her friend’s image in the mirror. “So, for the twenty-odd years that I’ve known you, the only time you hum in the morning is when…” Toni turned and nailed Brooklyn with an accusing stare. “What time did you come back from the bar last night?”
Brooklyn struggled to control her poker face and continued applying her mascara. “I don’t know. I guess I left the bar around one-thirty.” The truth was always best, she reasoned.
“Uh-huh.” Toni settled her hands against her hips, studied Brooklyn for a full minute, and then walked out to the bedroom. “You know,” she called out over her shoulder, “I didn’t think much of it when I got up, just figured you were being your normal neat-freak self, but your bed doesn’t appear to have been slept in last night.”
Damn Toni and her natural sleuth abilities. Brooklyn grabbed the hair dryer and proceeded to dry the ends of her wet hair.
Toni returned to her side. “Did you hear what I said?”
“What?” Brooklyn shouted over the loud noise.
Toni snatched the cord from out of the socket. “I said your bed doesn’t look like it has been used.”
Brooklyn’s somber expression softened against her will, but she continued to put up a brave fight. “I’m trying to dry my hair.”
Toni’s mouth dropped open and formed a perfect circle. “Ohmigosh! Who? When? Why didn’t you tell me?” Not waiting for an answer, Toni pivoted and raced back into the bedroom.
Brooklyn followed, a smile finally conquering her features.
Toni snatched up the phone.
“Who are you calling?” Brooklyn asked though she already knew the answer.
“Maria, you and Ashley need to get over here. You’ll never guess what happened.”
“Toni—”
“Brookie baby got laid.” Toni squealed and plopped down on the edge of the bed.
Brooklyn tossed up her hands and fell back against her own bed.
“Okay, hurry. I think she’s going to put up a fight on telling the details.” Toni slammed the phone down and rushed over to Brooklyn with the giddiness of a six-year-old. “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.”
Brooklyn opened her mouth, but was interrupted by a loud and insistent banging at the door.
“Hold that thought!” Toni bounced off the bed and rushed to the door.
Seconds later, Brooklyn was completely surrounded by her girlfriends, who demanded to know every detail.
Isaiah’s dreams of heavenly curves and ample bosoms had him moaning in his sleep. Despite being physically exhausted, his body still craved the delicious Georgia peach he’d enjoyed for most of the morning. His hand slid across the bed, instantly waking him when its search came up empty.
Bolting up, Isaiah’s gaze swept the room. He bounded out of bed naked and raced over to the closed bathroom door. He drew in a deep breath and collected his thoughts before gently knocking. “Brooklyn?”
Silence greeted his ears and his heart plummeted as he suspected the worst. “Brooklyn?” He knocked again and turned the knob.
It was empty.
There was a knock at the door.
Isaiah sighed with relief. Maybe she’d just gone down to get some breakfast or returned to her room for a change of clothes. Certain of his conclusion, Isaiah opened his door and stepped back. “Welcome back to Paradise!”
“Paradise my ass.” Yasmine rushed through the door like a hurricane. “We have less than an hour to get over to Mr. Alba’s office. It’s the only time slot available on his calendar.” She stopped when she noticed the condition of the suite. “What in the hell happened in here?” Slowly, she turned back to face Isaiah and gasped.
His shock broken, Isaiah remembered his nakedness. “I was expecting someone else.”
Yasmine slammed her eyes closed and turned around. “I can see that.”
Embarrassed, Isaiah rushed to the bathroom, causing his colleague to jerk in a different direction when he mooned her. A few seconds later, he emerged dressed in a hotel robe. “Is there any way we can pretend the last few minutes didn’t happen?”
Yasmine lowered her hands from her eyes. “And give up perfectly good blackmail material? Not on your life.” She smiled. “Too bad I’m gay, you’re carrying quite an impressive package.”
Isaiah rolled his eyes while still managing to smile. “Back to business. What did you say about Mr. Alba?”
“Hold up. I want to know what the hell happened in this room last night. What did you do—have an all-night orgy party or what? This room is wrecked.” Her gaze swept the bedding again, and she walked over to the nightstand, picked up the empty box of condoms and squealed. “Tell me everything!”
Isaiah moaned and shook his head. “No, no, and oh hell, no,” he laughed. “I’m allowed a private life, you know.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, but I’ve never known you to actually have one—even when you were in a relationship. Everyone knows that Isaiah Washington is all business.”
“Speaking of which—about Mr. Alba?”
She drew in a loud breath and exhaled dramatically. “Fine. You need to get dressed. I have a car waiting for us downstairs. So, shake a leg.”
Isaiah jumped into action by pulling clothes from his shopping bags, and then rushing to take a shower.
“And during our ride over to the office, I expect to hear the juicy tidbits of last night’s escapade,” Yasmine informed him, still smiling.
During his quick shower, Isaiah’s mind kept wandering to Brooklyn. Where did she go and is she ever coming back?
A WRONG TURN IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION
Chapter 6
Six months later
Rotech’s Golden Circle Award ceremony was being held in the lavish Embassy Suites in Austin, Texas. The guests were beautiful, distinguished and successful. Many complimented and enjoyed the royal treatment Rotech provided while they congratulated and hobnobbed with the recipient for three years running, Isaiah Washington.
Isaiah smiled and shook hands like a seasoned politician. He said all the right things, made promises to the right people, and prayed for the night to end.
At a tap on his shoulder, he turned, expecting to participate in more small talk with another colleague, but when he faced Yasmine, he expelled a small sigh of relief. “God, am I glad it’s just you,” he said in a low for-her-ears-only whisper.
She laughed and handed him a drink. “Here. You look like you need this.”
“Thanks. You don’t happen to have an escape car running out front, would you?”
“Escape?” She shook her head.
He sipped his drink and a genuine smile appeared for the first time that evening.
“What?” Yasmine eyed him suspiciously.
Isaiah lifted his glass. “You brought me a Scooby Snack.”
She shrugged. “Yeah. So?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. It just reminded me of something.”
She dismissed his rambling and returned to the discussion of his desire to escape the party. “Som
etimes, I swear you have a screw loose. Every year you slave for this award and then when you receive it, you act like it’s a nuisance or something.” She took a sip of her own drink. “I hear next year they’re going to just cut to the chase and name the damn thing the Isaiah Washington Award.”
His smile sloped downward. “Very funny.”
“Congratulations, Isaiah,” a male voice boomed from behind them.
Isaiah turned and nodded to his good friend Randall Morrison. “I see that you decided to show up.”
“You know I’m always here for you, good buddy.” He smiled. “Of course you know I still think you work too hard, but, hey, I love these parties.” He winked, and then walked off.
Isaiah laughed and returned his attention to Yasmine. “I don’t slave for an award. I just set out to be the best I can be, that’s all. But when it comes to big social functions like this, I feel more like a spectacle than a success.”
“Sorry, buddy. But you’ll have to do much better than that to win sympathy from me. I’d give anything to have the career you’re having. Everything you touch brings millions into the company. Forget Mike, I want to be like Isaiah.”
He frowned. “Come on. You’re on the fast track to the top. You could easily be the one winning this award next year.” He took another sip and an image of Brooklyn flashed from his buried archives of memory.
“I don’t believe in fairy tales, Isaiah,” Yasmine continued. “We both know I’ll never win that award—or have you failed to notice that only men win this award for a reason? Besides, I have too many strikes against me.”
“Strikes?”
“Yeah. I’m black, I’m a woman and I’m a lesbian. These things together aren’t exactly what the company wants promoted next to their name in Forbes.”
“You’re selling yourself and the company short,” he said, frowning. “I hope this discontentment I hear in your voice doesn’t mean you’re thinking about leaving.”
Comfort of a Man (Arabesque) Page 4
