by Nia Arthurs
“Sorry, McQueen.”
“That was the least sincere apology I’ve ever gotten.”
“Should I bat my eyelashes a bit more?”
“It wouldn’t hurt.”
“It would hurt my pride,” I tease.
“You hurt mine first.”
I laugh. “No wonder Sharon hired us. You’re hopeless.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking about that.” His tone becomes serious as he stares out the window.
Moonlight falls against his sharp jaw. His straight nose.
He’s handsome up close.
But he’s devastating in profile.
All rough angles. Straight lines. Beautiful symmetry.
“I wonder if she knew something would happen between us.”
“Sharon wanted me to find someone else for you.” It’s a thought that drives me to slight panic even now.
This wasn’t the plan.
I wasn’t supposed to sleep with him.
Fall for him.
Don’t think about tomorrow, Tierra.
I take a deep breath. Focus on the present.
On how free I feel in this moment.
Brett rubs his thumb against my thigh. “But that’s not the message I got. Shar gave me your picture.”
“Maybe she knew you’d be stubborn.” I shrug. “Which you are.”
“I think she gave me that picture to find you.” His eyes glow like twin moons. “Just you.”
“How did she even know me?”
He shrugs. "She probably stalked you.”
I slant him a dark look.
He laughs.
“What about us did she think would work?” I wonder. “We’re so different.”
“She might have suspected different was exactly what I needed.”
I rub his shoulder. “Maybe.”
“It’s just a thought.”
“It’s a nice thought.” I smile softly. “I really, really wish I’d gotten to meet your sister.”
There’s grief in his eyes. Loss. Brokenness.
It’s only been a couple of days since Sharon’s funeral.
His fingers tighten on my leg as if he’s seeking comfort.
I glance down.
Press my hand on top of his.
So different.
In skin tone.
In size.
We’re nothing alike.
But, for some crazy reason, that doesn’t matter anymore.
I’m hooked.
Climbing off the chair, I back away.
Brett glances up. Arches an eyebrow in disapproval. “Where are you going?”
“Come here.”
He smirks.
Remains seated.
I crook my finger. “I heard there’s a couch I need to be thrown into?”
His eyes darken.
More black than silver.
His big fingers dig into the arms of the chair.
He leans forward.
A hunter about to pounce.
Except I’m not scared.
And I’m not running.
I’m offering myself willing.
I reach for the buttons of my shirt. Unsnap the first one. “I want a tour of your office.”
His eyebrow arches. Pink lips tilt up.
“First, we had the desk. Lovely desk.”
Brett leans toward me. “Very sturdy.”
“Yes.” I let my hips sway as I back away from him. “Perfect height.”
His gaze sears me as he makes a slow scan of my thighs. “Nice legs.”
“Nice wood.”
He laughs. “Original.”
“But true.”
“Go on.”
“Now we have the chair,” I whisper. “Lovely chair.”
He stops in front of me. “Not too slippery.”
“Perfect for… gripping.”
He chuckles. Swats my hands away. Starts unbuttoning me himself. “And after the couch…?”
A buzz hums through my veins.
I toss my chin up.
Full of confidence.
Full of desire.
He makes me this way.
This is Brett’s fault.
“That wall.” I nod to the glass that reveals the city.
His eyes darken.
He swoops in. Captures me in a heated, wild kiss.
Pulling away, I whisper, “I want you to look up and see me here, in everything. Even when I’m not around. I want you to paint every inch of this place with me so you can’t breathe without soaking me in.”
He kisses my neck. "You plan on haunting me.”
“Just returning the favor. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
“No, I’m the one who’s obsessed with you. You’re already in this office. In my house. In my bed.”
“We should have a tour of your house soon.”
“You inviting yourself over?”
I gently nip the lobe of his ear. “Like you wouldn’t have dragged me there eventually.”
He grins. Hefts me up.
I wrap my legs around him. Let his shirt fall off my shoulder.
It crumples in a heap at our feet.
Thuds gently.
My heart beats fast.
Loud.
Crazy.
Brett caresses my hip. “I’m holding you to that.”
“Hold me all you want,” I whisper as I lean in for a kiss.
And never let me go.
Twenty
Brett
I get home after dropping Tierra off at her place. Fall into the bed. Close my eyes.
She’s all I can see.
Her sweet smile. Her dark eyes.
Her lips gasping in pleasure.
Brown skin pressing against glass.
Dark curls in my grip.
Sloping neck exposed.
Damn.
I’m exhausted, but I’m too happy to sleep.
Excitement courses through my veins when I think about her.
About the future.
This bed needs her body in it.
My arms need her curves.
My lips need her lips.
She’s taken over me. Taken over everything.
Life used to charge by in a blur. The moment I saw her, it started slowing down.
To a gentle dance.
A quiet wave.
She crashed through my world.
With her warmth.
Her sass.
Her selflessness.
So… perfect.
Damn.
I shouldn’t have taken her home.
I should have brought her here with me.
The night isn’t over yet.
I reach for my phone.
Pull back.
She’s probably sleeping. Exhausted.
Satisfied.
I picture her now. Thick eyelashes fluttered together.
Slender legs pressed against a pillow.
Lips pursed as she breathes.
I hope she’s dreaming of me.
Dirty dreams.
The kind of fantasies I plan on torturing her with before I turn them into reality.
I hope she wakes up drenched in need.
A wicked grin spreads on my face.
Should I call her tomorrow morning?
Suggest breakfast?
Take her to work?
Maybe I’m moving too fast.
I don’t give a damn.
I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.
It’s like Tierra jump-started my heart.
That thing used to beat only for money.
Used to have room only for Shar.
Now?
It’s all Tierra.
She made herself comfortable in my office.
Now, she's making herself comfortable in my chest.
My eyes fall on the clock.
It’s four in the morning.
I’ve got a meeting at eight.
That means I need to be in th
e office by seven. It’ll take an hour to put everything back together in there.
In our passion, we knocked down a lamp.
Broke a few trinkets on the desk.
Spilled some champagne.
By the time we’d worn each other out, it was three a.m. and neither of us was in the mood to clean anything. In fact, towards the end of the night, I just held her.
Just… drank her in.
Her soft skin against the hard planes of my body.
The sweetness of her presence.
The quiet beating of my heart.
She’s got me so tightly wrapped around her little finger that I’m about to cry for mercy.
Except I know she won’t offer it.
Because she has no idea how much power she has over me.
And she won’t believe me if I tell her.
There’s still a part of her that doesn’t trust me.
Understandable.
I still have to assure her that I want her for more than just one night. Or two. Or three. And I have to battle her old hurts to get that message through her pretty head.
Her ex and her sister did a number on her. They not only betrayed her. They stole her right to grieve. To mourn. To be angry. Instead of going through those emotions, Tierra sucked it all in. Zipped her feelings up with a smile. With understanding. With that blasted family devotion.
I know a little something about that.
Nothing Shar could ever do would have made me hate her.
Even if she tried.
And she did try.
I sit up.
My eyes go to that letter.
Mom’s letter.
With the prison stamp.
Shar gave Mom my address for a reason.
She knew how I’d react.
She knew there was a chance I’d tear that letter on sight and never read it.
Something makes me get out of bed. Plant my feet on the floor.
Walk over.
If I’d rejected Tierra, I would have missed out on an amazing woman.
Shar did that.
She saw potential there and went for it.
I trust her with my life.
Even in her death.
Even if it kills me.
Stepping forward, I move to the desk where I stuffed Mom’s letter away.
The address scrawled on the front is written in an unfamiliar slant. I don’t remember how my mom used to write. Back when I was a kid, I signed all the permission slips. Asking them to do it would have been a waste of breath and energy.
Most of the time, my parents were strung out in the living room or making animalistic groans from their bedroom.
They were wild for each other.
Always.
Whatever they did, they did together.
I remember that.
Remember how joined at the hip they were.
How in love.
How much I resented them for being so caught up in each other and in booze that they didn’t care about us.
Fear winds its way around my heart.
Did I inherit that from them?
My feelings for Tierra are overwhelming. Defy logic. Time. Expectations.
I’m crazy about her.
Already.
I don’t want to be apart from her.
Already.
Are my feelings for Tierra going to destroy her. Destroy me?
She’s not the type to grab a pistol, but she could shoot me in other ways.
In ways that are just as devastating.
It would be so easy.
And I wouldn’t have any defense.
Because I’ve never let anyone this close. Never gave any woman the free scope, the access to my soft, vulnerable places. My mask never leaves my face. But lately? I’ve been showing her everything.
It’s always good in the beginning. I learned that from my sister.
Damn. Shar was hopeless when it came to love.
She kept choosing bastards.
Over and over.
It was like she was drawn to them exclusively.
Like she couldn’t help herself.
We were both screwed up when it came to relationships.
My sister kept sleeping with jerks and I became one.
Love only ends in destruction.
Those were Mom’s last words before the police came.
They were the words my sister and I lived by.
I dig my fingers into the letter.
Listen to it crackle.
What could Mom possibly have to say to me? What could she say that I’d accept?
I’m sorry I killed your father?
I’m sorry we were always poor?
I’m sorry.
Is an apology enough?
Or maybe I'm being too lofty. Maybe she wants to scold me for never coming to see her. Maybe she’s full of bitterness and anger after all these years. Maybe she wants money from me now that Shar’s purse strings are buried six feet under.
I suck in a deep breath.
Press my fist against the desk.
Mom’s not even here, but she still scares me.
Still confuses me.
I picture her wild eyes from that night. Her pale face spattered in my father’s blood.
Hands on the gun.
Trembling.
Screaming that love had done this.
Love ruined everything.
I toss the letter. It flutters, aiming for the desk but missing the mark by a mile.
Coward.
Maybe I am.
Whatever Mom has to say, it changes nothing.
She’s still a murderer.
I’m still a murderer’s son.
Turning swiftly, I leave the letter behind.
Just then, my phone buzzes.
TIERRA: Are you up?
Light fills my heart. Fills my room.
Breaks through the shadows.
Immediately.
As if the darkness can’t handle her.
As if it’s frightened by her.
I sink into my bed. Lean against the pillows. Smile.
BRETT: I was just thinking of you.
TIERRA: Go to sleep.
BRETT: You first.
TIERRA: I forgot to ask you something.
BRETT: Should I come over?
TIERRA: This isn’t a booty call.
BRETT: With you, I can never be too sure.
She takes a while to answer.
She’s laughing. I imagine her eyes twinkling in the darkness as she lies in her bed.
Imagine her teeth flashing white against her dark cheeks.
Her face buried in the pillows.
The music of her giggling.
My heart thumps.
I sit up. Grab my keys.
Damn. I need her again.
I want her.
Even if it’s just to hold her in bed with my clothes on.
I don’t need anything else.
Having her next to me would be enough.
My phone buzzes.
TIERRA: Put the keys down.
BRETT: You’re a spy now?
TIERRA: You’re too predictable.
TIERRA: I just have one question. You don’t have to drive all the way.
BRETT: Hit me.
TIERRA: Would you like to terminate your contract with Make It Marriage?
I smirk.
She’s asking if I’m serious about her.
Or if I’m still messing around.
She’s asking if tonight was just physical. Or if it meant something more.
She’s asking if I care about her.
BRETT: I want you.
TIERRA: That doesn’t answer the question.
BRETT: Just you. No one else.
TIERRA: So?
BRETT: Cancel the contract.
TIERRA: Done.
I sign off with her. Toss my phone. Climb into bed.
And sleep like a baby.
Until my alarm goes off three hour
s later.
Groggily, I stretch. Yawn.
Grab my phone to check the headlines as I do everyday.
My eyes bug when I see my name and my picture plastered on the news.
I stop.
Click an article.
Read it through with rising horror.
Damn it.
Frantically, I reach for my phone and call Tierra.
Twenty-One
Tierra
The ringing of my phone merges with the sound of someone knocking on my front door.
I groan. Roll over. Bury my face in the pillow.
I’m so freaking tired.
But I force myself to get up.
My body’s sore.
Worn out.
Begging for more rest.
Or for Brett.
Either will do.
I reach out to take off the alarm I set.
I have work today.
No slacking off.
And no daydreaming about Brett.
I’ll see him later.
Will you? What if one night was all he wanted?
No. It can’t be.
I close my eyes. Remember how sweetly he’d kissed me when he dropped me off.
Remember his text before I fell asleep.
I want you. Only you.
His feelings haven’t changed.
And mine have only grown.
Maybe I can trust him.
Maybe I finally found someone who’ll value me. Treasure me. Respect me.
Who thinks I’m enough.
My phone chirps again.
Brett’s number blares on the screen.
I start to answer when a familiar voice calls from outside, “Let me in, T!”
It’s Kenesha.
Setting my phone aside, I stroll to the door. My sister’s here early which means one of two things: a) she had another fight with Anthony or b) Mom sent her with breakfast.
She’ll do that from time to time. I always appreciate the gesture because, even when I’m not sleeping in due to wild nights spent with devilishly handsome billionaires, I usually don’t have time to make a proper breakfast.
As I yawn, I open the door.
Kenesha’s hands are empty.
Dang it.
No breakfast.
“Can I stay here today?” She flounces in.
No good morning or anything.
Typical Kenny.
I give my sister a once-over. She flat-ironed her hair and it lays bone straight against her oval face. Bright brown eyes crackle with fury beneath two perfectly trimmed eyebrows. She’s wearing a silky white T-shirt with flowing sleeves and leather shorts.
“You got dressed up just to come here?”
“I told Anthony that I was crashing with my lover.”
