Good, muthafucker, because you damn sure weren’t stopping me.
If it came down to it, the Glock at his back would have finished the conversation for him. Asao cared enough about Samari to not do either any harm but he had a feeling that wouldn’t be necessary once they understood how serious he was about getting what he wanted. There were enough things between him and Samari. No more would be added. Not even her best friend.
Cantor eased an arm around his wife’s waist and gently tugged her back, providing space for Asao to enter their home. When they shut the door, closing them in, Cantor pointed toward the stairs. “First door on the left.”
Asao tossed his chin and jogged up the stairs. He entered the room, noticing the body buried beneath the bedding. Once he closed them in, he removed his shoes and the gun from thewaistband of his pants, tucking it into the nightstand beside the bed after making sure the safety was on.
Should he have cared about bringing a gun into the home of a family with a small child? Hell yeah, but the decision had been made in pursuit of getting what he needed. Access to the woman he was climbing in bed with.
He felt Samari’s body tense the minute his arms and legs wrapped around her. She was trapped in his embrace but protectively buried against his body. There was no escaping him, but when she buried her face into his chest and the first sob escaped, he was aware she wouldn’t try.
She needed this, she needed him. He’d fucked up and given someone access and now he had to make it right. She broke, it was ugly and hurt him more than it should have because he wanted to stop the tears. But she needed to let them go so he let her break while he held her in a way that promised he would put her back together again.
She missedthe feel of him next to her, arms locked tightly while she snuggled into his chest. The warmth of his skin on hers. In the past twenty-four hours, those were the only things that kept her from completely crashing—his touch, his voice, his scent. She still had his scent on her, in his bed, reminding her that she could feel safe tucked away from the world with him.
Samari inhaled and absorbed the smell of cedarwood. It sank into her lungs, remaining even after she exhaled, but it wasn’t enough so she lifted her body, threw the covers back, and sat up sluggishly, bringing her legs over the side of the bed.
Her eyes traveled around the room that represented the way she felt.Dark. Gray walls, black furniture, gray carpet, and gray bedding. The past twenty-four hours had been hard. When Asao showed up at Sheree’s house, she didn’t have the energy to push him away or tell him to leave. She also was well aware it wouldn’t have mattered. He made the decision and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to keep him from being her safe space but she didn’t want to. She wanted him there.
The first few hours he let her cry. They didn’t speak, he just held her. When she was ready, she told him what he needed to know, answered all his questions the best she could with no expectations, because answers didn’t mean understanding. He could end things.
He didn’t.
They left Sheree’s house late that night and he brought her to his apartment. They showered and climbed into his bed and he held her again. Samari was exhausted so she slept. She was at ease with him.
After she lifted from the bed, the first stop was his bathroom, where she pulled herself together before she went looking for Asao. She didn’t know what was next and that made her queasy.
He could still leave me.
When she walked into the living room and found Asao seated on the sofa, slouched down low, head back with his eyes closed, she began to panic. Maybe he didn’t want to be near her. Samari’s eyes trailed over his body, starting with the tension in his face, the way his brows were pinched, his jaw was tense, and the vein at his temple was defined. She moved lower, taking in the expanse of his shoulders which looked tight, his bare chest exposed defined muscles in his arms, flexed because his hands rested in his lap with his fingers curled into his palms.
She nervously cleared her throat and his eyes shot open. The frown on his face deepened until his eyes landed on her and softened.
“I should probably go.”
Asao grunted his disapproval and yanked a hand down his face. “Nah, you shouldn’t. Come here, Mari.”
She made her way to him, stopping between his legs. He looked her up and down for a minute before bringing her into his lap. She didn’t fully relax until he closed her in his arms and kissed her forehead. “What do you want to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
He grunted again before his lips touched her forehead. “You need to eat something.”
“You pick.”
Asao pushed his hand between his thigh and the side of the sofa to retrieve his phone. He would have handed it to her but the notifications would still be there. They had flooded his screen since the video surfaced. The video was attached to Samari, Samari was attached to him, and he was attached to the music festival. As successful as it had been, the only thing people were talking about was the video that leaked. So no, Asao wouldn’t be handing over his phone.
He pulled up the Munchies app and placed an order from Morningside before his attention was on her again. His conflicted gaze settled on her face before he spoke what was on his mind.
“What do you want to do, Mari?”
She frowned, not understanding the question. When she didn’t respond, Asao added, “I need you to tell me how you want to handle this. Whatever you tell me you want, I’ll make it happen. I just need to know how I’m stepping with this shit. I know how I’m gonna handle it but that doesn’t have anything todo with the decision you make. So I need to know what you want to do.”
She tensed because the threat and the warning were clear when it came to how he planned on handling things.
“No…” was all she offered and he laughed arrogantly.
“I’m not asking you for permission.”
