“I would never think that,” she interrupted. “I mean, you’re Jamal Turner. You don’t do jealousy.”
“That’s right,” he said moving closer. Kayla took two corresponding steps back, until she was pressed against the edge of the sink. “I don’t do jealousy.”
She stifled a smile and her head fell back a little so she could maintain eye contact. “Why would you? Because you have everything you want.”
“Everything I want,” he echoed, lowering his head and kissing her at the shell of her ear. “Is already mine, dammit. So, I don’t have to be jealous.”
“Exactly.” She sounded a little breathless. “You don’t.”
When they played little games like this, Jamal was never sure how much was true and how much was part of the dance they liked to do, teasing each other, driving each other crazy. She still drove him crazy that was for sure. And that feeling didn’t get better with time, it got worse.
Inhaling her skin, he allowed just the tip of his tongue to score across its surface, smiling when he felt Kayla’s shiver. Grabbing her chin, he kissed her hard, messing up that dark lipstick she was wearing, and had probably just reapplied.
Feeling himself grow harder, he pressed against her, so she could feel it too. Dropping his hand from her face to her shoulder, and then to her waist, he lifted the hem of her blouse—a wispy yellow thing—knowing that there was nothing underneath. Her nipples were already hard when his fingertips brushed lightly across them. Immediately, he wanted them in his mouth, on his tongue. With his free hand, he reached for the knot at her neck, unfastening it so the halter fell, exposing her to the waist.
Makayla stepped back in surprise and gathered the fabric in her hands, beginning to lift it to cover herself once again.
“Are you out of your mind?” she asked, laughter in her voice. “We’re in Chris Scaife’s bathroom.”
“When you gon’ stop calling him ‘Chris Scaife’, like he’s someone you never met before?” Jamal murmured, lowering his head further, trying to capture the tip of a breast between his lips.
“He’s larger than life, so it’s just weird that …”
“I don’t want to talk about Chris right now,” Jamal said, cutting her off.
He sucked in a nipple and felt Makayla lift onto the tips of her toes at the sensation. She tasted good, and it had been much too long since he’d had any. The longest they had ever gone since they’d lived together was three weeks, and that was when he was across the Atlantic. This time it had been almost two weeks, and when he came back it was to exhaustion, a post-midnight call from that pain-in-the-ass Devin Parks, a trip to a florist, and one of his biggest name artists having a freak-out in an exclusive hotel.
He needed her right now. It had been too long. If it wasn’t for this little party to celebrate the christening of Brendan and Tracy’s second baby girl, he would be home, buried inside Kayla, but only after tasting every part of her. Not just the parts easily exposed in someone else’s powder room on short notice.
“Jamal. Baby …”
Her hands were atop his head. He liked how they felt there. He liked when she called him ‘baby’. And he liked that even though she was about to ask him to stop she didn’t really want him to.
“… stop. We have to …” She was talking between short bursts of breath, and by now, she was soaking wet for him.
But maybe he ought to check. Just to make sure he hadn’t lost his mojo. He slid a hand down the front of her pants and that was it—she shut him down.
Pressing both her palms against his chest, Makayla shoved him away and used to the space to twist free. Grabbing the strings of her halter, she knotted it at her neck once again, eyes wide, as if to say, ‘look what you got me into!’
Taking a deep breath, he collected himself, willing his erection to disappear. Watching Makayla reapply her lipstick didn’t really help with that so he shut his eyes and concentrated for a minute, making himself think about work. There was always at least one little problem brewing on the horizon that was guaranteed to take his mind off sex so he focused on that, and within moments felt the tightness in his groin dissipate.
When she restored her appearance to her satisfaction, Jamal took her hand and led Kayla out of the bathroom, pausing before they rejoined their friends. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear.
“Make whatever excuses you have to. Meet me at the car in five minutes.”
“You miss me … huh? Did you …?”
Jamal’s face was buried in the space between Kayla’s neck and shoulder, and he was assailed by the lemony scent of her hair. Her nails dug into his skin, low on his back, and her legs were flexed high and tight around his torso.
“Yes,” she breathed turning her head to kiss him again.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Say you missed me. I wanna hear you say it …”
“I missed you …”
She was molten wax, hot and liquid, thick and viscous, surrounding him, holding, and pulling him in. He pushed harder, digging deeper, but holding a little of himself back because he could feel how close she was. It was a miracle he held out this long.
Kayla was thrusting upward, throwing back at him everything he was giving her and they were both soaking wet with perspiration, the sheets clinging to them until Jamal impatiently kicked them aside.
Her hold on him tightened, and Jamal felt the rhythmic clench-and-release that told him she was on the ascent to her climax.
“Kayla … damn … you feel … You feel … so ... damn …” He punctuated each word with a deep, long thrust.
She kissed him, effectively shutting him up, and at the same time hastening his own release. It felt like his head exploded, and behind his eyes, little starbursts popped, flashes of light and sensation, as his entire body tensed. Her head fell back and dimly, Jamal heard Kayla scream, the sound almost muffled by his own deep-throated groan.
Rather than collapse on top of her, he wrapped his arms about her waist and pulled her with him when he rolled over, so she was on top of him, and he was still inside her, pulsating, and exactly where he wanted to be.
“You are so rude,” Kayla murmured into his chest still panting softly.
Jamal grinned, kissing her damp forehead, and shoving her locs out of her face. “How am I rude?”
“The way we flew out of there? We were the last to arrive, and the first to leave.”
“You need to get over that kinda stuff,” Jamal said sucking his teeth. “No one thought we were rude. You know what they probably thought?”
“What?”
“That I needed to get home and get me some.” He grabbed her ass and slid his hand down low, between her cheeks and further still, until he was touching her where they were still joined.
“You are just … so wrong for that.”
“Hey.” Jamal put two fingers at her chin and tipped it up so Kayla would lift her chin and look at him. “For real though. I’m sorry about yesterday. About the flower shop and everything. I know it’s been crazy lately, with all the last-minute travel and weird hours. I’m not taking you for granted. I promise.”
She nodded, and Jamal saw in her eyes that she needed to hear that. He kept telling himself that he was going to deal with this, but there was never time. Kayla felt like a fish out of water among his friends, still; and he knew she was having a hard time adjusting to living this new upscale life, of not having to work for anything. And he knew that depending on him for her entire financial well-being was an uncomfortable adjustment for her.
But most of all, he knew she was sometimes lonely.
That was why it bothered him that all the voids he failed to occupy, she was filling with Devin Parks. It wasn’t just that dude might move in again and try to make their relationship physical. Jamal also wasn’t feeling it that Devin was who she still turned to for emotional support.
Late-night phone calls with Devin Parks should be phone calls with him. If she wanted to talk, he was the one she should reach out to. But there was no denyi
ng that even if she did, he was often unavailable.
“And by the way, I think Robyn’s brother is gay, so …”
Kayla laughed and smacked the side of his head. “Why you makin’ stuff up? He just broke off an engagement with that club promoter, so he’s …”
“He probably broke it off so he can start dating men. Like he prefers to do,” Jamal lied, hiding his grin.
“You’re stupid. I love how you always try to convince me that dudes who’re attracted to me aren’t straight.”
Jamal flipped her over onto her back again and cradled her face between his forearms. “So, you admit he was attracted to you.”
Kayla’s face was dewy and glowing, the way it always was after lovemaking, tinges of red beneath her brown hue, her eyes bright and alive. Yeah … sexy as fuck. Jamal leaned in and opened his mouth against her neck.
“I wasn’t talking about him in particular,” she said, her voice hitching a little as he kissed her. “Just in general, you’re … always … trying to convince me that men who might like me are gay.”
“You do have a track-record with that. Jus’ sayin’. I mean, with the best friend who’s a little on the AC/DC side ...”
“No. Not even.”
Jamal lifted his head. “Any man who voluntarily comes into contact with another man’s dick, repeatedly, is gay.”
“Homophobic much?”
“How’s that homophobic? It’s just a fact,” he said, still kissing her.
“Well, it’s like, just because Devin had some unconventional sexual experiences, you’re labeling him, painting him with a … scarlet letter or something.”
“Now that’s homophobic. A scarlet letter is a mark of shame, and I didn’t say nothin’ about him needing to be ashamed. Just that he’s gay. So, nah, not scarlet.” Jamal lifted his head and grinned at her. “Rainbow.”
Kayla rolled her eyes. “Okay,” she challenged. “If he’s gay why’re you so threatened by him?”
“First of all, I’m not threatened. I just can’t stand his disrespectful ass. And second, I don’t like being reminded that he once had what’s mine.”
At the word ‘mine’ Jamal felt Kayla’s hips push upward and against him, her legs tightening around him again. Inside her, he twitched, awake and almost ready once again.
“You like that, huh?” he said biting lightly on her lower lip, increasing the bass in his voice. “When I say you’re mine?”
She smiled, but didn’t answer, instead giving him access to the tip of her tongue—but just the tip. He sucked on it lightly, and felt a low hum at the back of her throat.
“Yeah,” he murmured into her shoulder, holding his pelvis firm against hers. “Mine.” He reached up and cupped the side of her breast, squeezing lightly. “Just like this is mine … and this …” Running a thumb across her mouth. “All of you, is mine.”
Kayla reached down, both hands grabbing his ass, pulling him harder against her.
Twenty minutes later, when he’d worn her out, and she was sleeping peacefully with her head on his chest, leg draped over him, Jamal gently extricated himself from her embrace and slid off the bed. Looking over his shoulder to make sure she hadn’t stirred, he found and dragged on a pair of sweats. He felt a little sticky and would take a shower in a few minutes, but he liked to keep Kayla’s scent on him, at least for a little while.
Glancing at her one last time as he grabbed his cell phone and made his way toward the den, Jamal smiled. She slept like a little kid—completely dead to the world. It had taken a few weeks after her grandmother passed for her to be able to truly relinquish herself to a deep sleep. But now, she was a pro at it, except, she once told him, for when he was on the road.
But right now, he was just glad they had reconnected. Nothing felt right in his world if they weren’t right; and her sleeping like this meant they were good. His woman’s head was back on straight, her lip no longer poked out; domestic crisis averted, and problem solved.
Once in the den, Jamal collapsed onto one of his theater-style seats and dialed the number. The hell with waiting for Tuesday. He needed to know something now. But there was no answer. He left Madison a brief voicemail, but rather than betray his impatience to hear her news, he just reconfirmed their date and said he was looking forward to seeing her.
~4~
“So?” Makayla shut the apartment door and turned to face Devin, still sprawled out on the sofa, legs extended and resting on the edge of the coffee table. “What’d you think?”
“I think you finally gone Hollywood. Either that, or you lost your natural Black mind,” he said matter-of-factly.
Sighing, Makayla went to stand in front of him, arms folded. Claire, the woman she’d first met in the flower boutique had stopped by for an informal interview. And because he was usually spot-on in his sizing up of people, Makayla invited Devin over to do it with her.
Claire had arrived in khaki capris and a white top, her hair out in a long, swinging ponytail. She looked ten years younger than Makayla remembered her, and was much more relaxed, like someone she wouldn’t mind hanging out with, never mind the work. From the moment she entered the apartment with a smile and extended hand, Makayla was pretty sure she was going to hire her, and only needed Devin to confirm her instincts.
“I mean, did you like her?”
He shrugged. “The hell you need a personal assistant for?”
“She’s really just someone to plan this wedding. The rest is extra.”
“It’s extra alright,” Devin said shaking his head.
Wearing a white Jimi Hendrix t-shirt with nicks and rips all over it, and army-green cargo jeans, he’d drawn the attention of the concierge when he arrived a couple of hours earlier, and Makayla had gotten a call telling her Devin was on his way up.
‘That asshole’s only seen me here like a million times,’ Devin had grumbled when Makayla opened the door for him. ‘That’s some passive-aggressive shit … actin’ like he don’ know who I’m here to see.’
Although Devin was prone to complaining about all kinds of things that didn’t faze the average person, this time Makayla had to agree with him—albeit silently. There was something judgy about even the staff in her and Jamal’s building, never mind the tenants. For instance, they almost never called up when one of Jamal’s pretentious clients showed up in their Prada outfits and designer shades. But Devin got singled out every time, like they wanted to signal to Makayla that he was the type who stuck out in a place like this, and that he was unsuitable to have as a guest.
“But, did you like her?”
“She was a brown-noser. All that shit was fake.”
Makayla shrugged and collapsed on the sofa next to him. “People with jobs like hers always come across like that. And you haven’t seen brown-nosing until you see how they’ve started treating Jamal at SE.”
“Where is His Royal Highness? On the road again?”
“No. Not till next month, thank God.”
“Tell me again why you think you need a slave?”
“Dev, don’t be an asshole.” Makayla nudged him hard in the shoulder.
“I’m serious,” he laughed. “Like what is she gon’ do for you in an eight-hour workday? You’re at school damn near six of those hours.”
“First of all, her hours are flexible. She’ll be on-call, not working an eight-hour day. I just need her to help me with wedding stuff, keeping appointments on track, making sure I’m doing everything right. It’s a big deal, planning a wedding.”
Devin shook his head and Makayla could see him bite the inside of his cheek, preventing himself from saying what he’d said many times before—that she was moving too fast, that she and Jamal didn’t ‘even know each other like that’ to be getting married.
“I could go with you on your appointments if it came to that,” he said finally.
Makayla pulled her legs beneath her and turned to face him, poking out her lower lip. “You would?” she asked. “Even though you hate that kind of
stuff and think I’m making a mistake getting married in the first place?”
Devin shrugged, not meeting her gaze, and Makayla grinned. Knowing that he was uncomfortable with sentimentality, she often teased him this way.
“Yeah, I’d come with you. Just to prevent you from turning into some Manhattan bubble-head.”
“You could have just stopped at ‘I’d come with you’,” Makayla said putting her arms around his neck and planting a wet kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. But don’t worry, I’m not going to subject you to that. And besides, it would be like the blind leading the blind.”
“So why isn’t he doing it?” Devin trained his intense blue-green eyes at her.
“Because he has a nightmare schedule and we’d only end up fighting every time he missed or had to change an appointment. Like the flower shop incident.”
The sound of the front door startled them both and they looked up, turning around just as Jamal entered. Wearing dark-wash jeans and a light-blue button-down with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, he sauntered in, looking model-perfect as always. Because he always got up much earlier than she did to go to the gym and then to the office, it was often a pleasant surprise when Makayla saw him in the evening—what he was wearing, how he smelled, everything. He was like a gift she got to open, over and over, and over again.
Seeing that Devin was with her, Jamal’s eyes became heavy-lidded and weary.
“Wha’s up, Scout,” he said dryly. “You wanna take your dirty-ass sneaks off my table, man?”
After a moment’s hesitation and a sharp look from Makayla, Devin let his feet fall to the rug.
“You’re home early for a change.” Makayla went over to greet him, getting up on her toes to kiss him briefly. But just as she aimed for the corner of his lips, he turned his head slightly to the left so that he could kiss her full-on and even slip her some tongue and quickly nip her lower lip before pulling away.
“We have that thing,” Jamal said heading for the kitchen. “I texted you this morning.”
“You did?” Makayla looked around, wondering where she’d misplaced her phone. She was always losing the darn thing, and letting the battery go dead. Since her grandmother’s passing, she didn’t feel the need to be as tethered to it, so often lost track of where it was altogether.
The Takedown Page 5
