Zuri’s eyes fluttered open. She gave a groggy, half-lidded squint. “You still talking to my locs?”
“You still jealous?”
“Nope. I might teach you to re-twist me. All that tugging and pulling. You can tighten them too,” she teased.
“Why stop there,chère?” My voice dropped low, smooth as jazz. “We can have us a whole business—Haircare Temptation LLC.”
Her eyes closed, and she rested her head on my chest. “Oh, you sound so good, Montana. My own audiobook.”
“You want a narration?” I shifted, sliding my fingers through her locs while I spoke. “Chapter One—ahem,Chapter One.”
“Yessss, just like that,” she moaned.
“Check this, I’d have you between my knees, coconut grease in one hand, bad intentions in the other. You’d roll your eyes while I said,This is for your ends, bébé?—”
Zuri swatted me, giggling. “Boy, stop playing!”
Feening for her laughter, I continued. “Chapter Two. My fingers would sink in slowly. The roots whisper your story to me. An intimacy most guys didn’t get. Hell, the type of intimacy I hadn’t offered another woman because they’d come too easy. You, though?”
The morning glow lit her face as she listened, but I watched her, my heart pounding, lost in her beauty.
“You sacred. Your mind, your body, that hair. That soft, low hum you make all deep and low in your throat when I’m touching your hair? I’d bottle the sound,bébé. Bottle it with my mouth and taste the rest of you …”
Zuri had this shaky little laugh, like she wasn’t sure if she should fan herself or rebuke me. “Boy, you need therapy. You can’tbe out here talking about bottling people’s hums.” Her smile wobbled betweenthis man is crazyandplease don’t stop. Then she laughed again.
I was about to show her the truth when she climbed on top of me. “Oh, Montana! I have an idea!” While straddling me, she attacked me with tickles. Too mesmerized by the way her hair framed her face and fell over her breasts, I didn’t laugh. This wasn’t comedy no more. This was the kinda plot twist my body ached for.
“Tsk.” Zuri slapped my chest. “You’re suddenly above laughter?”
“In the bed? Hell yeah. I was just tryna fulfill your”my“haircare fantasy.”
“Hmm. Just for that, Montana. I’ll have you moisturize every strand with some jojoba oil.”
Anytime. I got you.“You ain’t even said it right. Jojobaearl.” I reached up and tugged one of her locs, teasing.
She swatted my chest half-heartedly. “Let’s not discuss whose dialect is normal—I mean—easier to understand.”
“Normal? Oh, so you clowning again?” My fingers caressed beneath her ribcage. She laughed, soft and warm, the room full of us. Nothing else.
“I need a moment,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose to stop from laughing.
My brow rose as she pulled the blankets from our naked bodies. “Take all the time you need,” I replied while she lowered herself, but she went too far.
Stopped at my feet.
“Oh, not bad,” she murmured.
“The hell?”
“Your feet. You don’t have athlete’s foot. You love kissing toes?—”
“Yourtoes. The first toes I’ve ever kissed,” I replied, snatching her back into my arms as she climbed up.
Once she quieted from laughing at my side, my fingertips tracedthe curve of her breast. Last night’s events electrified me, but I held on to this moment.
Her laughter ended on a sigh. “Well, now that we’ve clarified that you have a head and toe fetish. Breakfast?”
“I got a what?”
