Five Years

by Brooklyn Knight

  The shoulders were toned.

  The muscle of her thighs was both taut and supple, glowing like she was a pot of gold at the end of some sexy rainbow. Swaths of fabric clung to her pert, perky tits, like they were hanging on for dear life.

  Fuck!

  My heart rammed into my ribcage, threatening to burst through my chest and land on the floor.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Blaine was saying, though his voice was barely more than a buzz in my brain. “Halle Berry.”

  “Olivia Pope…” I muttered absent-mindedly.

  Blaine frowned. “You mean Kerry Washington?”

  No, I meant Amaris Flowers.

  Goddamn.

  My hands trailed over my clothes. Suddenly, I was self-conscious, and that never happened. “How do I look?” I muttered, still staring.

  Now she was staring back at me, and my chest all-but caved in. Her brown eyes were round with shock.

  “Like a million bucks,” Blaine complimented me, “though I’m surprised by the question because a few hours ago you were griping about having to come. I guess I should remind you that the real reason you’re here is to meet the woman of my dreams.” He paused. “What do you think?”

  His voice still sounded like a drone of bees.

  I needed to attend, to be supportive.

  He was right: the only reason I’d agreed to come was to meet this woman of his, but seeing Amaris had thrown me for all kinds’a loops.

  Grudgingly, I turned my eyes to Amaris’s companion. I smiled.

  She was gorgeous. Of course, she was. She was Blaine’s choice. She was also Amaris’s friend.

  “So now it makes sense,” I said, returning Blaine’s jab. “She’s a quarter, like you said. It’s no wonder you’re actually thinking about retiring from the game.”

  Blaine’s chest pushed forward. “Thinking about? It’s a done deal.”

  I arched my brows.

  “Let’s go,” he urged, ignoring my surprise.

  Again, no directives required.

  After a final trail of my hands over my lapels, I was taking determined strides towards the private table, where the woman I’d been thinking about for the past twenty-one days was sat, mouth hung in disbelief.

  Her lips were painted red tonight, and by the grace of God, if she didn’t close them, I’d be Adam in the garden of Eden, sinking my teeth into her forbidden fruit.

  As if she’d read my mind, she closed them.

  “Nic and Mary, I’d like for you to meet Maverick Dangerfield,” Blaine announced when we reached the table. He tipped his head in my direction and lowered his voice. “Amaris, this is my buddy, the guy I wanted you to meet.”

  An awkward moment of hush ensued as Amaris and I peered at one another, communicating without words – something neither of us had practiced. In her office, it was always talk-therapy, her asking questions, me answering them. This kind of therapy was different.

  It was electric.

  Amaris blinked as if ripping herself from a self-imposed trans. “Mr. Dangerfield, it’s… a pleasure to meet you. For the first time.” She stuck out her hand as if I was supposed to shake it, but fuck that.

  I didn’t want her hand.

  We’d already been there, done that, even if no one else was aware. In fact, I was already over this entire introduction bullshit, desperate to move to second base, whatever that might be.

  I collected Amaris’s hand into mine, but instead of shaking it, I raised it to my mouth and brushed my lips across the supple surface.

  She shivered ever so slightly, matching my reaction to a tee, before easing out of my hold.

  “First of all, I’m gonna need you to call me Maverick. Or Mav…” I whispered. It was the same thing I’d said to her in her office. That time, she’d ignored my request. There was no way I’d let her this time.

  “Secondly,” I continued, “it’s a pleasure to meet you for the first time also.” I turned to Blaine’s woman. “And Nichola, I have heard so much about you, I feel like I already know who you are.”

  Everyone chuckled.

  Everyone except Amaris. In fact, from the look on her face, I had a feeling chuckling was the last thing she wanted to do.

  Nichola’s eyes shone. “So Linkie has been talking about me?” she flirted, giving my man a hungry look.

  “Linkie?” Laughter erupted from my throat. “He actually lets you call him that?”

  “Only her,” Blaine clarified, face flushed. “And don’t you even think about it! I can see you now, introducing me as Linkie in a meeting or some shit.”

  Another round of laughter rose from our table as Blaine and I eagerly assumed our positions, him next to his woman, and me next to mine.

  Without delay, the waiters arrived to refresh our drinks and take our orders. When they departed, it wasn’t a moment too soon.

  I was still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that Amaris Flowers was sitting across from me, looking more delectable than I was sure any of the dessert offerings ever could. My mind was boggled with things I might say. Maybe I should play it cool, wait and see what her first move would be; but to do that would be torture. I was desperate to make a connection with her. We’d already connected in her office. Now I wanted to experience her beyond those confines. In fact, if I didn’t get to touch her tonight, I’d be driven into madness.

  “Amaris,” I began, leaning forward.

  She leaned back.

  “I understand we’re here to get to know one another. Apparently, our friends don’t believe we can find suitable mates on our own.”

  “Mates?” Her tone was uncharacteristically chilly.

  “That’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re on the market, I’m on the market… Nichola and Blaine thought we might make a good pairing. Can’t say I blame them.” I let the thought hang and Amaris grabbed her drink. “You look beautiful.”

  Her breath caught and her lips pressed tight. “Thank you, but I wouldn’t quite say that I’m on the market,” she clarified carefully.

  Nichola’s face twisted. “Of course she’s on the market,” she corrected Amaris. “If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be here.”

  “That’s not true,” Amaris countered.

  “How so?” I asked.

  Amaris pinned me with a hard, unblinking stare. “Linkie said you were taken.”

  “He said what?” I glared at Blaine. “Why the hell would you say something like that?”

  “Trust me, I didn’t say that,” he said, throwing his hands up in defense. “What I told her was that I thought there was someone else you might be interested in.”

  She’s the one I’m interested in.

  “But I also said the minute you saw her, you’d forget about the other woman. Tell him the full story, Amaris,” he said playfully cutting his eyes towards her.

  “It really doesn’t matter,” Amaris interjected. Her cloying tone was laced with a hint of doubt. “The point is, my presence here tonight doesn’t necessarily imply marketability. Clearly, we were both bullied into this, right?”

  She was waiting for me to corroborate her point, but I tilted my head, rejecting her position. “If anybody is a bully, it’s me,” I retorted.

  She jolted. “That sounds… aggressive, Mr. Dangerfield.” I didn’t miss the quick spark lighting her brown eyes.

  “Maverick,” I corrected her, “and it’s not meant to be aggressive. I’m confident. I’m sure you can tell that much, even though we’ve… just met. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be. I suspect the same is true of you.”

  Amaris traced her fingertips along her collarbone and my eyes dropped to the spot. “In that case, you are extremely confident,” she commented. The edge of that mouth tripped up into a timid smile.

  Yes, I was; and the smirk she offered turned me up a few notches. It was time to hit the ground running. There was no time to waste.

  I settled a little in my seat and watched her sip on her wine. “So… are you not intrigued?”<
br />
  She swallowed her drink. “Intrigued by what?”

  “By this,” I answered with a light shrug. “By me. You came tonight, possibly hoping that whoever showed up would resemble something you’re interested in…” My words trailed away, and I left her to fill in the blanks, the way she often made me do in our sessions.

  Amaris swiped a hand over her hair, which had been pulled up into a feisty updo, with random coils splaying about her shoulders in silky black ringlets. The motion caused both my eyes and attention to shift.

  What would it feel like to tug them?

  Nichola fanned herself dramatically, and Blaine snickered. Having two hype-men in my corner was a definite perk tonight.

  I picked up my wine glass, intent on waiting for her response.

  “It’s… too early to answer that question,” she finally said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Nichola chimed in. “I have a feeling Maverick has already made up his mind, because he definitely seems intrigued.” She raised her glass and clinked it against mine, but I frowned, not liking that Amaris was avoiding my questions.

  Was she in denial about my attraction to her? Maybe she hadn’t seen it in her office. Of course, we were both so busy navigating my fucked-up childhood, it was quite possible my desire to rut her on top of her desk had gone unnoticed.

  There was also the possibility Amaris was uncomfortable with my advances.

  Was she trying to let me know that she wasn't interested?

  Maybe I should have taken the hint. Maybe I should have made a decision to leave this entire thing alone and focus on the homework she’d given me; and maybe I would have, had I not seen the labored rise and fall of her breast against that black dress, or the way she was trying to swallow back the emotion rising in her slender throat.

  Amaris hadn’t wanted me to see those things, but I would never miss the way her hungry eyes glossed over me when I’d approached her at the table. She was trying to throw me off, and I’d let it slide. For now, but before the night closed, I would have the conversation I was dying to have with her.

  Hmph.

  Soon, the food was arriving, and the conversation lightened. An hour in, we were digging into dessert, as well as another bottle of wine I’d ordered. By the time the last bite of cheesecake had been consumed, Blaine and Nichola were tipsy and completely taken with one another.

  Something inside of me sparked.

  Their boisterous outbursts had reduced to intimate whispers. Blaine’s eyes were hooded, dripping with unreserved lust, and Nichola couldn’t keep her hands to herself.

  Blaine was gone.

  I wanted to go, too, but I wanted Amaris to go with me. I needed to get inside of that pretty little head, the way she always got into mine, and find out what she was thinking.

  All night, she’d tried to disguise her curiosity and need, but three weeks of being her client had given me the ability to notice even the subtlest shifts in her facial expressions and posture.

  “I think it’s time to dance,” Blaine announced, guiding Nichola out of her seat.

  She fell into his arms and they nuzzled each other.

  “I think I like the sound of that,” she mewed. She turned to me and Amaris. “Come on, you two. The music is amazing.”

  I turned to look at Amaris and her eyes dropped to her watch.

  “Actually, I was thinking I might head off,” she insisted. “It’s getting late and - ”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Nichola said, pulling away from Blaine and slamming her hands on her hips. “And you were doing so well.”

  “Was I?”

  “Don’t start now,” Nichola demanded narrowing her eyes.

  Blaine cleared his throat and pulled Nichola back into him. “Amaris, if you want to leave, it’s cool,” he said, contrary to what his girlfriend had suggested, and contrary to what I was thinking. “Just know that Mav will be pretty disappointed if you do.”

  Her eyes fluttered to mine.

  “They’re right,” I confirmed. “Just one dance.”

  “Maverick – ”

  “If you want to leave after I sweep you off your feet, I won’t protest.”

  She swallowed, defeated, and before she could change her mind, I took her hand and led her to the crammed dance floor.

  The clasp felt right.

  Her skin was just as soft as it had been in her office that day, but this time, there was no extra material to camouflage her sexiness. Her brown eyes twinkled under the lighting. Surges of electricity shooting through my entire body would not be restrained.

  At long last, the moment I’d been anticipating arrived.

  I eased Amaris against my body. My arm wound around her trim waist and to my pleasure, her hands slid up my chest until they were wrapped loosely around my neck.

  I gulped back an eager groan at the sensation of her skin against mine. This sensation, it would never erase from my mind.

  She could wear a thousand pants suits – shit, she could wear a Burka – the sight and feel of her bare flesh brushing me would forever be etched onto the walls of my brain.

  I inhaled and willed myself to drown in her fragrance. “Fuck, you smell good,” I muttered against her skin. I drew in another breath.

  She shivered and stiffened. “Maverick, we need to talk,” she was saying.

  “I’ve been trying to talk to you all night,” I informed her, just in case she hadn't noticed. “You’re closed.”

  “What?” She pulled back to look into my face.

  “You’re closed,” I repeated. “Your shoulders are hunched, and your neck is as stiff as a cord. I feel like I’m dancing with a rake.”

  She opened her mouth to blast me, but I twirled her before she could. When we were face to face again, she was smiling.

  A little.

  The woman was right where I wanted her, both emotionally and physically. She was so close that our faces were only a few delightful inches apart. All I needed to do was lean forward and touch my mouth against hers.

  “My shoulders are not hunched,” she contested.

  “Now they’re not.”

  “And I can’t believe you’re trying to use my clinical terms on me!”

  “You should be proud of me,” I said rocking her steadily. “You were proud of me in our last session. That’s what you said anyway…”

  “And speaking of sessions…” She lifted her chin and glared at me. “Maverick, this is crazy.”

  “What’s so crazy about it?” I asked. “We’re two on-the-market adults getting to know one another. As far as I can see, there’s nothing crazy about it.”

  “Nichola and Linkie have no idea that – ”

  I stopped swaying. “Can we call him Blaine,” I pleaded. “Never in my life have I called him Linkie, and there’s no way I intend on starting now.”

  She released a titter that warmed my insides. “Fine,” she acquiesced.

  I resumed the movements, relishing the way her body slid against mine.

  “The point I’m trying to make is that Nichola and Blaine have no idea that I’m your therapist,” she continued. “If they ever found out, it could jeopardize the confidential nature of our relationship.”

  Confidential nature? So that was the problem? Was that the reason for her resistance tonight?

  I was barely moving now. We stared at one another as I tried to interpret the meaning of her words.

  “So you’re saying I should tell them?”

  She huffed and shook her head. Her curls swung. “I’m not saying you should – ”

  “Because I don’t have a problem letting anyone know,” I cut her off. “I’m proud of the work we’ve done together. I’m a better man because of it, and I know how that confidentiality shit works.”

  “Maverick, it’s not shit.”

  “And if I’m okay to let people know that you’re my therapist, it’s my business to tell, right?” I searched her face in the soft lighting, waiting for her to object. Even if she did,
it wouldn’t matter. I already had a counter lined up and ready to go.

  Amaris groaned and rolled her eyes towards the vaulted ceiling. “You’re not listening to me,” she whined.

  “Then we can practice listening skills on Monday during my session,” I suggested, tone dropping a few decibels. “Or… we can practice tonight at my place.” I threw the last option in for good measure and rocked her to the new beat kicking in.

  Our movements were perfectly synchronized, even though her rigidity had returned.

  “First of all, there is absolutely no way I’d go to your place for anything,” she asserted, but the way her body pulsed told me otherwise. “I’ve never been to a man’s place in my life!”

  I pulled back and looked at her.

  “And another thing,” she continued, “your session isn’t on Monday. Remember, you’re on monthly reporting.”

  “I rescheduled it,” I smirked.

  Amaris balked, but I dipped her before she could protest. My hand grazed the peaking center of her breast, and when she returned upright, her gaze smoldered to match mine.

  “Maverick, listen to me,” she whispered, flustered. “It’s more than Nichola and Blaine knowing that I’m your therapist. It’s wrong for us to do what we’re doing right now.”

  “What are we doing?”

  “Dancing.”

  “And that’s wrong?”

  “Yes!”

  I frowned, not understanding. “So… you’re not interested in me?” I probed.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t answer before, but I’m not gonna let you off the hook this time,” I informed her.

  “Whether I’m interested in you is beside the point!”

  “So you are?” I pressed her, swaying. “Because if you weren’t, this wouldn’t be a problem, right? I’ve had three sessions with you, and by now I know how this therapy-shit works.”

  “It’s not shit.”

  “I know your style, Amaris,” I continued, ignoring what she was saying. “I’ve seen the way you spin the ordinary and make it deeper than the Congo.”