“Seeing Money tonight made me think about who I’d go that hard for. And it’s you, Monica. I know I’m a mess, but I don’t want to lose you.”
His lips were on mine before I could process what he said.
This wasn’t one of those other kisses he’d given me in the past—the ones that were usually charged with heat and frustration. This was different. It was softer. Sweeter. Like he was finally putting all his cards on the table.
Jelani’s hand slipped to the back of my neck and eased me forward until there was no space left between us. I moaned as his tongue swept over my mouth and my fingers twisted around his locs.
Everything that pissed me off about him faded away into the background. None of it mattered, and I let myself get lost in him.
When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead on mine. My lips tingled from his kiss.
“I only want you, Baby Doll,” he murmured.
Part of me wanted to argue, to tell him he was full of shit. But the dampness in my panties said otherwise.
So I just nodded.
He let me go but gave me one last, soft peck. “Go get some rest,” he said.
I almost asked him why he wasn’t coming up with me, but decided it was better this way.
Jelani’s gaze never left me as I got out of the car. I felt it on me as I walked to the lobby door. I didn’t look back.
I was on autopilot until I was back in my apartment. I exhaled deeply as I closed the door behind me. I pressed my back against it and shut my eyes, caught somewhere between relief and hating myself for wanting him all over again.
One thing was for sure—if this nigga broke my heart, I’d kill him.
CHAPTER23
JASMINE MILLER
My eyes flewopen like I’d just been yanked out of a dream. My heart raced, and my head pounded like I’d gone too hard the night before. Everything felt off—hazy, disjointed, like I couldn’t wake up fully. Attempting to piece things together only made the throbbing worse.
Groaning, I reached out toward the nightstand for my phone, but my fingers grazed nothing but sheets. I frowned as I blinked into the dim room. Thin slivers of sunlight slipped through the curtains, casting faint lines of light across the room.
Cash didn’t have blackout curtains.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to push past the ache in my skull. Bits and pieces of last night filtered in—leaving work with Monica, calling Cash, and then…Marcus.
My stomach twisted as the coldness in his face flashed in my mind.
I rolled out of bed and stumbled toward the windows. Sunlight poured in when I yanked the curtains open, making me cover my eyes to block the glare.
My jaw dropped once my vision adjusted.
Central Park was sprawled out twenty stories down.
New York? This nigga brought me back to New York?
I clutched my stomach as I turned to take in the room. One wall was all windows, overlooking the city, and a king-sized bed sat against a charcoal-gray wall. Everything looked cold and expensive, like a showroom.
At the foot of the bed were a few suitcases. I looked down and realized that I wasn’t in my scrubs. Someone had changed me into one of my own pajamas.
A chill ran down my spine.
Marcus had been in my apartment and gone through my things while I wasn’t there. Undressed me. How long had he been planning this?
My bladder tugged at my attention, and I made my way toward an open bathroom door. My chest tightened. My toiletries neatly laid out on the counter—all my skincare, my bonnet, my fucking toothbrush, all there like I was here for an extended stay.
