“I’m not. Trust me; I’m not bringinghimup. I’m just saying, it’s been years since you’ve even dated. I know what happened to you was—”
“Gabby, Idon’t want to discuss this. I just don’t want to date right now, okay?” I almost believed the words myself.
“I swear,” she sighed again. “Okay, okay. But just tell me one thing.” I heard the way her tone shifted to something mischievous, and I side-eyed the phone in my hand.
“What?” I asked skeptically.
“On a scale of Whitney Houston’s character inWaiting to Exhalewhen she fucked grunting animal dude to when she fucked married dude, how good was the sex?”
I shook my head at her, remembering those very scenes she referenced. The one where poor Whitney’s character was forced to endure that lackluster ass sex, to the toe-curling, spine-tingling, make-you-tell-a-married-man-to-leave-his-wife-and-child, bad decisions-induced sex.
“It was Nia Long inLove Jonesafter the first time Lorenz Tate put it on her,” I sighed, closing my eyes.
“His dick spoke to you?”
“Yeah.” My voice sounded breathless.
“Oh, girl. You’re in goddamn trouble. I gotta go. Bye.”
“Bye,” I answered, my mind still on the fact that I might indeed, be in trouble.
****
Xavier
Her ass is in trouble,I thought angrily as I stepped off the elevator that led to her law firm. I knew her ass would try to sneak out the next morning. I knew it, but after fucking damn near all night and well into the morning, I thought I’d be the first one up. Oh, I was sorely mistaken. And knowing she ignored my calls over the weekend pissed me off even more. She was lucky I’d had a work emergency at one of my restaurants over the weekend, which stopped me from handling that ass like I wanted to. But, this morning she would see me.
“Chanel Richards, please?” I questioned the young receptionist at the front of the huge outer office. Jay had told me how she used her mother’s maiden name at work. “Tell her Xavier Grant is on his way to see her,” I stated, strolling off down the hall, looking for the door labeled with her name on it. It was still early Monday morning, and many of the attorneys were just coming in, but I had a feeling Chanel was always the first in the office. I looked over my shoulder when I heard the click-clack of heels along the linoleum floor.
“Sir, I, uh, I don’t believe Ms. Richards had any appointments this early in the day.” The receptionist was right behind me. If I weren't so pissed off, I’d have felt bad for possibly getting this woman in trouble, but I was this pissed off, so I didn’t.
I finally stopped when I read the “Chanel Richards, Esq.” placard outside the corner office. Her door was open, and it looked as if she was just getting off a phone call as she placed her cell phone down on her desk.
“So, your phone does work?”
She jumped a little in her chair when she heard my tone laced with anger.
“Chanel, I’m sorry,” said the receptionist. “I tried to tell him you didn’t take visitors without an appointment.”
Those brown eyes shot over to the woman behind me and softened a bit.
“It’s okay, Liza,” she answered, standing. “Please hold my calls.” She smoothed down the edges of her forest green skirt that stopped an inch below the knee. The skirt was paired with a black sleeveless top.
My groin stirred as I took in the outline of her thighs and hips in the outfit. I hadn’t had nearly enough of that body in just one night. Another fact that served to piss me off.
“It seems the men in my life have a tendency to scare the hell out of my poor receptionist,” she mumbled just loudly enough for me to hear.
I raised an eyebrow. “By ‘men in your life,’ I hope you mean another co-worker and me. And not another man you fucked all night and then ditched while he slept.”
Her eyes practically doubled in size at my words, and I heard a gasp behind me, but didn’t turn to see who’d overheard ‘cause I didn’t give a fuck. Chanel scurried around her desk, giving me a withering look as she pushed past me to close her office door. For my part, I strolled past her desk to stare out of the floor-to-ceiling window that gave a nice view of downtown.
“Seriously, Xavier?” she hissed from behind me.
Throwing my hands in the pockets of my trousers, I slowly pivoted and returned her icy glare with one of my own.
“I would’ve said that over the phone instead of in your office, but someone’s not answering their phone. Not for me, at least,” I finished, glancing at the cell phone lying on her desk.
She crossed her arms under her breasts. The same breasts I’d had my mouth all over Friday night. And would taste again. Soon.
