In next to no time, Dani and Logan had the whole building enraptured, singing along to her sexy, playful, heart-wrenching, angry, reverential lyrics and buttery vocals. The girl had a little of everything, and I knew damn near all of it, and wasn’t afraid or ashamed to belt those words at the top of my lungs, with everybody else. By the time her set was over, I was hoarse, but I was more than okay with being the victim of a great time.
Once she left, a lot of the patrons did too, but there was still a good sized crowd. Our little group took our party to a table inside, since the night temperature was dropping. After a while, we lost Jada and Andrea to work responsibilities the next day, and then Whitney got scooped up by her boyfriend, leaving just me and Anika at the table.
“I gotta visit the ladies’ room,” she told me, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait!” I jumped up, intending to follow. “You’re leaving me by myself?”
Her eyebrow shot up. “Yeah, to go pee.”
“Or, I can go with you…”
“Then who would watch our table?” Anika asked, carefully pronouncing the words, like I was slow. And hell, maybe I was, because I hadn’t even considered that.
“Right,” I nodded. “I’ll wait here.”
“I’ll be right back,” she assured me again, and of course, she wasn’t. After I’d chair danced my way through two songs, turning down more than one offer to dance, I stood up, looking in the direction she went to see if maybe she was stuck in a line for the bathroom.
She was stuck alright.
Stuck in the face of some dude who just looked like his name was Oliver.
I waved in her direction, getting her attention before I pointed toward the bar. She nodded, essentially giving me permission to relinquish the table that we really didn’t need any more anyway, then went to the bar for my standard I’ve already had enough liquor drink, pineapple juice with seltzer and a splash of lime.
I was just raising the glass to my lips when I felt eyes on me, damn near staring a hole in the side of my face. Shyness wasn’t really my “thing”, so I felt very little shame in turning right in the direction the stare was coming from to identify the culprit.
I wasn’t expecting to lock eyes with a living, breathing bar of chocolate.
I know.
There was another of those clichés, but the comparison was more than appropriate. He was deep dark chocolate, with a nice lush beard, and glossy black locs pulled into a pile on top of his head. He was dressed simply – fresh white tee, fresh white sneaks, jeans. He didn’t crack a smile, but he tilted his head up, acknowledging me before his attention went first to the drink in his hand, and then to the performer who’d taken the stage for open mic.
Interesting.
While his attention was elsewhere, I took the opportunity to just observe. He was seated, somewhat near the stage, sitting by himself on an armless couch. After placing his drink on the table, he stretched his arms wide, completely relaxed as his tee shirt pulled across his chest and arms.
Not wanting to get caught staring, I found something else to look at too, but a moment later, I felt his eyes on me again. I let it ride for a few seconds, but then I turned to face him, only for him to look away.
Again.
I took a sip from my drink, and then started in his direction, not caring if he saw me coming. When his eyes came back to me, they widened a little, like he was surprised to find me much closer than before, but I was right in front of him before he had much time to react.
“You know,” I started, taking a seat in the empty space beside him on the couch. “It’s not really polite to stare. If you like what you see, you could just… talk to me.”
His lips parted a little before he let out a quiet chuckle and un-stretched his arms. “Uh… wow,” he said, before swiping a hand over his mouth.
“Wow, what?” I asked, turning my legs in his direction. “What are you “wow”-ing about?”
He sat up, looking at me like he could barely believe I’d sat down. “Well… the fact that you thought I was looking at you because I wanted to holla.”
“I thought?” I lifted an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you weren’t?”
“No, I wasn’t,” he told me, in a rich, deep tone that I could appreciate now that the stage was clear, and the volume in the coffee house had gone down.
I pursed my lips, twisting them to the side in disbelief as I waited for him to drop the façade. “Oh come on,” I said, when he said nothing else, still giving me that same baffled look. “Why the hell else would I have caught you staring, twice?”
The confusion on his face morphed into an awkward sort of smirk as he leaned in a bit, voice lowered like he was giving me confidential information. “Your cut, mama,” he said, gesturing with two fingers toward my hair. “My bad for staring, but the precision of your cut – three equal sections, detailed line work, a nice gradient effect to your fade… it’s impressive. Dope as hell. That’s… what I was looking at.”
Oh.
“Ohhhh,” I repeated out loud, raising my hand to brush my palm over the shaved side of my head before I ran my fingers through my thick curls. “It is pretty dope, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “It is. Who’re you rockin’ with?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your barber. Who is your barber?”
“Oh. Tiana. But she’s not from here. I stopped through and got a fresh cut when I passed through her city on my little road trip to get here. The girl has skills.”
“That she does,” he agreed. “Kudos to her.”
“Uh-huh, yeah,” I said, waving off that line of conversation. “Let’s talk about how you just tried to front like I’m not out here looking good as hell tonight.”
He’d been taking a sip from his drink, and nearly choked when I said that. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Mr. I Was Just Looking At Your Cut. You were not just looking at my haircut,” I laughed, putting my own drink down on the table. “You wanna know what I think? The hair may have gotten your attention, but this face is what had you staring.”
He chuckled, shaking his head as he sat back again, looking at me. “I’m not trying to front on you,” he insisted. “I really was studying your cut, that’s it.”
“So you don’t think I’m pretty?”
His eyes got big again. “What? Nah, you’re fine as hell.”
“I am, huh?” I said, fluffing my curls as I let my lips spread into a big smile that he couldn’t have resisted if he tried.
“Okay,” he nodded. “I see what’s happening here, you with the smile, and the hair, and the dimples, all of that.”
I smirked. “Do you really though? Cause I’m pretty sure I caught you all the way off guard just now. Or are you gonna front on me again?”
“I didn’t front on you a first time,” he countered, with the kind of smile that made it very easy to remain in a seat that very well could’ve belonged to another woman. Before I could find out, a server came past, asking if we wanted refills on our drinks.
He said yes, asking for another Hennessey and Coke, and because I was a sucker for a dark man drinking dark liquor, I said yes as well, opting for Sprite and vodka.
“So… am I in someone’s seat right now? In danger of getting swung on?” I asked, meeting deeply amused eyes that were the same color as deep roast in the light from the stage, but seemed glossy black when he turned to fully face me.
“Not really. My boys are off chasing ass, so I doubt they’ll mind.”
“Why aren’t you off doing the same?”
His response was delayed by the delivery of our drinks, and I offered no argument when he instructed the server to put them both on his tab. Once she left, I raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for his response.
“Well?” I prompted, when he still didn’t answer.
“Well what?”
“Why aren’t you off chasing ass like your boys?”
He shrugged, then took a sip of his
fresh drink. “Don’t have to. It usually comes to me,” he suggested, giving me a pointed look that made me laugh.
“So you’re caught up now, huh?” I teased. “Welcome to this conversation.”
I raised my glass, and to my absolute delight he met me halfway, clinking his drink against mine.
“Happy to be here.”
“Are you really though?” I asked, then took a swallow of my drink. “Cause a few minutes ago, you tried to—”
“I wasn’t trying to front on you,” he interrupted, with a warm chuckle that gave me a tingly feeling akin to the soda bubbles exploding on my tongue as I drank again. “You gotta stop saying that shit.”
I raised a hand, spreading my fingers wide. “Hey, I’m just standing in my truth here… you should try it.”
“Damn, it’s like that?”
“Yup.”
He nodded, then raked his free hand through his beard. “Okay. The truth then.”
I leaned in, into his personal space, and he didn’t flinch, falter, or pull back, just kept with that cool, penetrating gaze. “Please,” I uttered, sounding it out slowly, as his regard fell to my lips.
“The hair is what got my attention,” he insisted, once our eyes were locked again.
“But…?”
A yielding sort of smirk spread across his lips as he conceded, “But… the pretty face is what kept it. I’ve never seen you before, so… I was curious.”
“Finally, he admits it!” I laughed, dropping my hand onto his knee and squeezing. “I love it when I’m right!”
“It’s all good,” he granted. “Live it up at my expense, I can take it.”
Still grinning, I told him, “So can I…” with a wink that made him suck in a little breath before he pulled his bottom lip between nice, even white teeth.
“You’re really not from around here are you?”
“Technically I am, actually. Grew up near here, moved away, and now I’m back.”
“That’s wassup. Where you coming from?”
“A cozy little town called none of your business,” I replied.
He raised an eyebrow. “Okay… well then, what made you move here?”
“Proximity to family, and starting a business.”
“What kind of business?”
“Not yours,” I told him, then grinned at the flash of frustration that sparked across his face as I finished off my drink. Over his shoulder, I spotted Anika heading my way, with a sexy chocolate of her own in tow. “Give me a second,” I said, then stood up, walking to meet her halfway.
“Jules,” she started, wearing an expression that was distinctly… annoyed? “This is—”
“Oliver,” I finished for her, saying the name like it was gross to my tongue.
Both of them frowned. “What?” Anika asked. “No. No. This is Royal. He’s… shadowing me, I guess,” she explained, gesturing toward him. “You know I told you about my boss, Roman? Well, this is his cousin, and he’s trying to learn the business. I need to walk him through a few things, so I might be a little while. Do you want me to get a car or something for you, and just meet you back at home?”
I shook my head. “Uh… no. I can entertain myself, and then make my way home.”
“Are you sure?” she questioned, sounding concerned. “I am so sorry. It’s your first night here, we’re supposed to be kicking it. It’s supposed to be my night off, but I just got this promotion, and I don’t want to—”
“Nik,” I interrupted, grabbing her shoulders. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Do what you need to do for your job. I’m a big girl, I’ll be okay. And yes, I’m sure, do not ask me again.”
Anika blew out a sigh. “Okay. Okay. I just hate this,” she said, stepping in close so she could lower her voice. “I lowkey hate this dude, and cannot wait until he leaves to open his own shit.”
My eyebrows went up as my gaze shot to Royal, with his strong jaw and smooth skin and haircut and dimples he probably used for evil, giving the rest of us a bad name. “You screwed him, didn’t you?” I whispered back, only to be met with rolled eyes.
“No, I didn’t screw him! Even I can see that he’s a fuckboy. I know better. Why do you think I’ve screwed everybody?!”
I squinted a little, averting my eyes. “Well…”
“Oh kiss my ass Jules,” she hissed as her face dropped into a scowl. “We’ll have a conversation about that later. For now, I need to get this shit over with, so I’ll see you later boo. You be safe tonight,” she said, pulling me into a quick hug before she turned back to Royal. He grinned the grin of a man who knew a little too well just how fine he was, and her lip curled up, barely suppressing a sneer before she gestured for him to follow her.
I watched his eyes go straight to her ass as she walked off, shamelessly ogling as he trailed her. Laughing, I turned back to my chosen “entertainment” for the night, pleased to find that he was, again, openly staring.
I took my time walking back to him, knowing exactly how good I looked in my high-split, floral maxi situation. I wanted him to absorb every second of it, and from the look he was giving me by the time I stopped in front of him, stepping between his open legs, he’d enjoyed the view just as much as I enjoyed giving it.
In the background, Ro James’ Permission came on, and I immediately started moving my hips, snapping my fingers to the beat. He sat back a little more, spreading his arms across the back of the couch to relax as he watched, but I shook my head, brought my hand in front of me to hook a finger at him, beckoning him to his feet.
He was game, apparently. Not one of those “I don’t dance” kinda guys that were so woefully prevalent these days, or one who intended to just stand there, stiff as a board while I twerked on him. As soon as he was on his feet, his hands were at my waist, his touch confident as he eased me over to the dance floor.
“I’m guessing you’ve done this a time or two?” I asked as he effortlessly moved with me, undaunted by my arm draped around his neck, the other swinging freely as I rocked my hips into his.
His smirk was cocky, confidently sexy as he nodded, pulling me closer as the hook started. “Nah. First time.”
I kept a smile on my face after I laughed, and then closed my eyes, settling comfortably into his touch, breathing in the rugged cleanness of his scent. I fought the urge to press my face into his neck and inhale, focusing on the skin-to-skin contact instead. His hands were pleasantly warm against my bare back, taking full advantage of the way my dress dipped in the back, giving him free access to skin.
I swallowed a moan as his thumbs skimmed my waist, and tried to keep my rhythm. But it was hard when he was hard, and the very clear evidence of his arousal was pressed against my stomach. The music shifted, to Twenty88’s Push It, and I took that as my chance to get a little reprieve, turning so that my back was to him.
Not a wise decision.
Because as soon as his arms were back around me, one hand pressed to my stomach, the other at my waist as I grooved to the music, I started wondering just how far he was willing to take this tonight. Once I got myself settled, I planned to focus as solely on my business as I could, no distractions. But until then… what could it really hurt to have a little fun beyond flirting, to be a little… carefree?
It was my first night in town.
A fling was practically required.
Just as I was wondering how to approach the topic, I felt his lips on my neck. Just a delicate brush at first, that could’ve maybe been an accident, but then they were there again, firm and soft and perfect. And then again. And then, a little flick of his tongue, followed by a little more, and then a barely-there sinking of his teeth, and then I was turning to look him in the eyes.
“Come home with me,” he said, before I could even open my mouth.
When I did open my mouth, at first there was no sound. Being “lost for words” was an occurrence outside of my experience, usually, but at that moment, all I could do was nod – which wasn’t good enough, based on the raised eyebro
w he hit me with. “Yes,” I told him, finding my voice to answer once it was clear my non-verbal response wasn’t enough.
After that, there was no wasted time, no wasted words, just his hand around mine as he pulled me out of the coffeehouse, back into the warm, clear Spring night. Even with the usual noises of the city, compared to the inside of Urban Grind, the street was quiet, and neither of us was talking.
The silence was loud.
“You know this doesn’t have to be awkward, right?” I asked him, tugging at his hand as he led me down the street. “I’m still cute under these bright lights, you’re still tall and fine,” I said, making him grin. “You don’t have to get all quiet on me.”
“Nah, it’s not like that. Just… sorting through my thoughts, you know?”
I cringed. “Yeah, I actually do. What, are you thinking you were too hasty in asking me to come home with you? Wondering if you made a mistake?”
He stopped walking and turned to face me, with my hand still clasped in his as his thumb strummed gently back and forth over my knuckles. In the streetlight, his eyes were intense brown-black marbles that would’ve frozen me to the spot if his touch hadn’t.
“No,” he answered, seemingly mystified by it. “I’m not wondering that at all. And the fact that I’m not wondering is what has me thinking so damn hard.”
I scraped my teeth over my bottom lip, not caring that I was taking my carefully applied lip gloss with it. “So… are we doing this or not?”
He dropped his hold on my hand, which I first thought was his answer. But then, he grabbed my face instead, cupping my chin in his hand as he tilted my head back, making my eyes go wide. His free hand pressed against the small of my back, pulling my body into his as he dropped his head, and kissed me.
Right there on the sidewalk.
Immediately, my eyes closed and I parted my lips, giving in to the insistence press of his tongue at their seam. Honking cars, passing laughter, sirens, everything blurred together into indistinguishable noise as he consumed me with a smoky-sweet, Hennessey and Coke flavored kiss that had my toes curling under the straps of my wedges.
My hands twisted around fistfuls of that crisp white tee as his tongue lapped against mine and then diverted, exploring my mouth. He pulled back, teasingly nibbling at my lips, first the top and then bottom before he dove in again, kissing me in a way that made it impossible to take a full breath, just shallow tastes of air that contributed to my intoxication.
Love Notes (Equilibrium Book 1) Page 2
