“Where is this coming from?” I asked, sticking my hands in my pockets.
Her eyes skirted around, first over my shoulder, presumably looking at Chanel, then around the yard, and finally back to me. “I was just thinking. Chanel is lovely, don’t get me wrong. She’s smart as a whip, a successful career in her own right, independent but caring.”
“All qualities you’ve taught me to look for in a woman,” I countered.
“Right, but I’m just concerned. She seems a little flighty. She’s only been back in Houston less than a year, and who knows if she’d want to pick up and move again? Are you willing to move?”
“Ma,” I shook my head. “You’re taking this way too seriously. We’re still in the getting to know each other stage. I’m not going to ask her to marry me anytime soon,” I stated, wondering why those words felt like sandpaper coming out of my mouth.
She nodded. “Okay, okay. I just wanted to give you something to think about. I’m sure it will all be fine,” she brushed it off, grabbing my shoulder for me lean down so she could kiss my cheek.
Although she tried to play it off like it was no big deal, I wondered what the hell that was about as I strolled to my car.
“That was fun.” Chanel turned and smiled as I got in the car. Whatever the hell it was, the softness in her eyes, the way her whole face lit up as she looked at me, or if it was the way my entire body reacted to that damn smile, the conversation I’d just had with my mother faded completely into the background.
Chapter Sixteen
Chanel
“Oh shiiit, Xavier!” I moaned as Xavier drilled into me. My left leg was pushed up against his shoulder while my right leg was tightly locked around his hip, held securely by his chiseled arm. My arms were above my head, held by his other hand. Marsha Ambrosius’ “Your Hands” played on repeat in the background.
“Why...are...you fucking...me...like this?” I panted, unable to catch a breath. This was our second round of the night. He’d been like a madman since we’d gotten back to his place from our afternoon out. He looked down at me with such an intense and penetrating look in his eyes; I knew he was trying to convey something with his body that his mouth either wouldn’t or couldn’t say.
“Look at me!” he growled when I tried to close my eyes, the pressure in my womb and the intensity of his stare too much to take in. He hiked my leg up even higher, pushed my other leg from around his hip down to the mattress, so I was spread eagle. He raised his hips and pulled almost all the way out, pausing. I opened my eyes to see those coffee brown eyes looking right into me, into my damn soul, as he sank into me with force so strong, the entire bed shook as it slammed against the wall.
“Ahhh!” I yelled as my orgasm crested. Everything in front of me went hazy as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. My back bowed off the bed, my hips convulsing uncontrollably, but Xavier got going, pistoning in and out of me, his hardness continuing to my G-spot. And my orgasm just kept going and going, until I felt as if I was floating.
I don’t know how long it took for me to come back to myself, but when I did, Xavier was there, hovering over me, watching me. I panted, trying to regain control over my breathing.
“Who was he?” His face was so serious, so stern.
I barely remembered where the hell I was. All I could focus on was the look in his eyes and the harshness in his voice.
“Wh-what?” I asked, still breathless.
“Who the fuck was it? Who hurt you?”
The little bit of air I had in my lungs was stolen again with those questions. “What-what are you talking about?” I tried to lower my arms from above my head, feeling more vulnerable than I wanted to in this position. His hands remained locked on me, keeping mine where they were.
“What nigga put his hands on you?”
I gasped, wondering how he knew. No one knew, except Gabby. “N-no one. What are you talking about?” My voice rose and I wiggled my arms, trying to get free. His grip loosened, but he still held my arms above my head against the pillow.
“You know a hell of a lot about abuse victims. Who was it?”
I turned my head, looking out to the rest of the room, willing the tears that wanted to make an appearance not to. “No one. There was no one. I’ve just worked with a lot of women who’ve been abused,” I lied smoothly, hoping he would accept it.
“Look at me and say it again,” he ordered.
“Are you serious?” I was growing angry, a defense mechanism, I knew, but I didn’t care. I’d just came for the third time, and he was still very much throbbing inside of me, asking me about the past I wanted to forget.
“Tell me.”
“I’ve never been abused. I’ve just worked with victims.” I swallowed the lump in my throat that had formed with the lie, but I looked him right in the eye.
He was completely quiet, his eyes searching mine. I hoped he couldn’t read me as well as his eyes were telling me he could. I didn’t want to do this, not tonight. Not ever.
“Okay,” he leaned down. “Okay.” He pressed a kiss to my lips, finally releasing my arms, and wrapping his hands around my waist. The kiss turned deeper as he began stroking in and out again. I exhaled against his mouth, releasing the tension that had built up in my body, pushing the guilt of lying to the recesses of my mind. I wouldn’t think about that now.
