“I know. I just… family’s important.”
The way he says it, with a dip in his voice, has the note of a little wistful boy tucked inside the man. Makes me wonder if he’s thinking about the father who didn’t stick around. The mother who chose crime over him. Sure, he’s got C and me—but that kind of early loss leaves echoes. And maybe… lately, after opening up about his past, those echoes have gotten louder.
“How was your day?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Productive. Started the salon mural and took Queenie to therapy.” I launch into the chamomile bootcamp that followed last night’s saga.
“She really peed on your shirt?”
“Stared me in the eye while she did it. Then this morning, she flipped her food bowl after tasting my scrambled eggs.”
“Did you nuke them?”
“No. I used a skillet like a civilized adult.”
“You throwing shade, but there’s the problem. Queenie only likes them tech-infused. Pop ’em in on high for fifty seconds and they’re soft as a pillow.”
“Ssskt.” I cut him side-eye. “I’m not catering to her.”
“Says the woman who bought a baby carrier for her cat and is spritzing her house with floral tea.”
“For practical purposes.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Whatever. But I’m about to turn pain into profit.” I tell him about the new product line.
He grins, eyes shining. “Those are brilliant, Web.”
“I’ll test them out on social media, see how they track.”
“Props to the queen for the inspo. Where is she, anyway?” he asks.
“Hiding somewhere. Why, you miss her?”
“Not nearly as much as I miss you.”
“Yeah?” I sip my wine, slow and teasing. “What do you miss?”
“Everything,” he murmurs. “Waking up beside you. The way you bury half your head under the pillow. Your scent. Not just the body butters.You. The crease behind your knees that’s a little ticklish. How you shiver when I kiss the curve of your neck. The softness of your tits and belly. The sexy jiggle of your ass when I spank it. The sweet taste of your mouth… and between your legs.”
“Mmm. Trying to turn me on, Jones?”
“Like it’s my full-time job.”
“If I were there, I’d give you a raise and suck you dry.”
His groan is low and ragged. “Give me a li’l something.”
We’ve sent sexy texts, said things over video to work us up, but nothing more. I set my glass aside and peel off my top,letting the snug satin bra do its thing. The nude brown is nearly the color of my skin, giving the illusion that I’m bare.
“Damn, baby. What’re you wearing on the bottom?”
“Really short shorts.”
“Show me.”
I prop the iPad and stand, revealing fitted boy shorts that cling to my hips and thighs.
