“Maybe we can find an in-between,” he said. Thad took a step forward, and added, “For now.”
He took another step toward her, and her feet refused to take a step back. Instead, they moved forward, until she was standing close enough to touch him.
Then she did.
Ashanti hooked her hands behind his neck, pulled his head down, and pressed her lips to his. She was struck by how soft they felt. Never could she have imagined a hardened Army veteran would have lips that felt like brushed velvet; soft and supple and pliant.
But then she realized she must have caught him off guard, because after a moment those gentle lips turned forceful, advancing with purpose as his hands came up to cradle her face. He parted her lips with his tongue and swept itinside her mouth, his tasting like the sugary cupcakes they’d eaten.
It had been so long since she’d felt this, the intense rush of intimately connecting with another human being. Of allowing herself to be vulnerable enough to share something so deep, so personal. She hadn’t even been tempted to share this with anyone in such a long time.
Until this man.
His tongue explored with a fervency that stole her breath, weakened her knees, set her entire being ablaze. His hands slid from her cheeks to her waist.
And then common sense returned to her brain.
“Okay, stop,” Ashanti said. She took several steps back and braced her hand against the dresser. “We can’t do this.”
“Ashanti—”
“We agreed—”
“It’s not working,” he said, cutting her off. “We can’t just ignore this pull between us. And there’s not a case of amnesia severe enough to make me forget the way your tongue felt against mine a minute ago.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. The words hurt—physically hurt—as they moved past her lips.
He backed away, holding up his hands. “I’m not going to push you to do anything you don’t want. But I think you want this as much as I do.”
I do. Goodness, I do want this.
Ashanti folded her arms across her chest and mourned the absence of his strong muscles against her. She sucked in a deep breath.
“We have a long day tomorrow,” she said.
He dropped his head forward and silently shook it.
“Okay,” he whispered. Then he said it again, louder this time. “Okay. You call the shots here. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She waited until the door clicked before turning to the bed and falling facedown on it.
Her phone immediately buzzed in her back pocket. She expected to see Thad’s name, but it was from Kara.
You up?
Ashanti groaned and twisted onto her back. She texted back.
Yes.
She refrained from tacking onWhy are you still up?It was almost midnight back home, and the urge to tell Kara she should be sleeping was strong, but one did not give sixteen-year-olds bedtimes.
You and the Carol’s Daughter wannabe are neck and neck, came Kara’s next text.
She followed it with a screenshot of the vote tally for the finalists in the Young Black Woman Entrepreneur contest. The voting would be open for another five days.
A rush of excitement raced across Ashanti’s skin at how close she was to winning such a life-changing prize. It was the reminder she’d needed. She’d come to New York with one goal, to use Duchess and Puddin’s fifteen minutes of fame to her best advantage. Everything else was just noise.
Thanks for the update, Ashanti texted back.Wish me luck for tomorrow.
