He kisses me again, mouth open, tongue barely grazing the softest part of my neck. And I have to grip his shoulder now not just for balance, but to keep from slipping into whatever spell he’s putting me under. He stares down at me. I move past him,and pick up my Crumbl cookie body wash, I feel scared, beneath the lust, he looks like he still wants to kill someone.
I don’t think Miss lady can manage him while him upse— “Weh yuh a run go?” his grip snakes my wrist. My eyes travel up to his. Slowly. A guilty smile spreads across my face.
“Uh… I’m… just getting this,” I scrubbed my brain for that answer.
“Zara,” he sighs.
“Babeee anuh nutt’n,” I reach up to press my palm against his face.
“Yuh a move like yuh fraid a mi,” he tilts his head. The mere fact is like a jab in his heart. His brows pulling closer.
I swallow. “Not you… that,” I drop my eyes down. He looks down too, a goofy smile playing on his lips.
“Oh?” he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth. Watching me too closely. My thighs tighten on instinct.
The heat is pulsing now, not just in my body, but under my skin, behind my eyes. It’s too much. I turn away and reach for the shower sprayer, just to ground myself. Something to do with my hands.
I don’t even hear him move. But suddenly, his fingers are in my hair, not hard, not gentle either. Just firm. Possessive. He twists my head back toward him, the bathroom spinning behind my eyes. Weh mi shower cap gone?
“Zara,” he says, voice low, like he’s coaxing me out of hiding. “Come outta yuh head and gimme it instead.”
I don’t say a word. I smile, small and unsure, even though my chest is tight and everything inside me is wound up like a wire. He stays calm. Of course he does. Like he’s figured me out already. Like he knows he’s the fire, and I’m the girl learning how to stop flinching from heat.
I breathe in sharp. My voice comes out broken. “Stop looking at me like that.” But he doesn’t. He just tilts his head slightly and drinks me in. He doesn’t blink.
“You tense,” he says, folding his arms, eyes dragging down my body. “Yuh don’t even know how pretty you look when you nervous.”
“I’m not—” My voice cracks. He smiles, but it’s a quiet one. Not for show. Like he’s already in my thoughts, reading the sentences before I form them.
“This is interesting,” he murmurs.
“What’s int—” he presses his thumb against my lips, shutting me up without needing to say a word.
“Feel like mi can read yuh now,” he says softly. “Go ahead. Please yuhself. I’ll watch.”
I freeze. “No,” I whisper, but my voice betrays me. It sounds like the beginning of a yes.
He doesn’t call me out. Doesn’t rush me. That’s the thing with him. He waits.
“Yuh like when me take control.” His tone is smooth.. “It turn yuh on… being told what to do.”
I shake my head, uselessly. “N-no.”
He steps in, close enough that I feel the heat rolling off him. “Weh a yuh wait pan, Mami?”
“I don’t want to touch myself…” I say.
But it’s too soft. A whisper of a lie. He chuckles, deep and rich. I feel it in my stomach. “Tell me what you want.”
I blink fast. “Why you staring at me like that?”
He backs up just a little, enough for me to miss the weight of his presence. I reach for him on impulse. “Okay,” I admit. “I’m lying.”
He raises a brow, waiting. “I want to. I want you to watch me.”
He nods once. That’s all. I slide my hand slowly from my shoulder, down the curve of my waist. I try not to look at him, but he lifts my chin again. My gaze meets his, and it anchors me.
“You want music?” he asks, casually. Like this is normal. Like I’m not about to fall apart in front of him.
