At exactly seven o’clock, the elevator sounded, letting me know he’d made it in and on time. I gushed while I finished applying my lipstick. Heavy footsteps got close, and then the door opened; his deep voice floated through the air.
“You ready, baby?”
I looked over to find him looking like a magazine spread come to life. He wore black Balmain joggers with the signature ribbed detailing at the knees, paired with a cream Balmain hoodie that fit his frame perfectly. The subtle gold embossed logo caught the light, and he’d pushed the sleeves up to his elbows, showing off his forearms and the Patek Philippe watch that gleamed against his skin. His Cuban chain lay against the soft fabric, and those fresh black forces completed the look—luxury streetwear at its finest.
“You’re wearing it.”
“You bought it for me, so hell yeah.” The Demosea Inferno cologne I bought him filled the air with a rich, woody scent, causing me to exhale slowly. When his eyes traveled over me from head to toe, I felt heat pool in all the places he’d recently kissed on.
“Damn, Coco,” he said, voice rough with appreciation. “How do you get sexier every day?”
“Thank you. It’s one of your apology gifts.” I grabbed my purse, trying to play it cool even though my heart was racing. “So where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He offered me his arm, and when I took it, I felt that familiar electricity that had been building between us all week.
Instead of the Maybach, there was a different vehicle waiting downstairs, a brown Lamborghini Urus that gleamed under the parking garage lights like liquid bronze. I’d never seen one in this color before.
“This is yours?” I asked, running my hand along the beautiful vehicle.
“Yours.”
“Mine? What do you mean mine?”
“His and hers. An us thing. I wanted you to have something that matched me.”
I looked at the car and then at him. He wasn’t flexing. This was Lesley Grimson telling me I belonged in his world in the only language that came naturally to him, big, deliberate, unmistakable. I ran my hand along the hood one more time.
“It’s beautiful,” I said breathlessly. Coco was the right choice. Thank you, baby.”
I squelched when the realization settled in. I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him. He pulled me closer with one hand on my ass cheek and deepened the kiss until I felt dizzy.
He smirked, brushing his thumb across my chin. “A beautiful woman deserves beautiful things. Simple math.”
I rolled my eyes, but my smile gave me away. He opened my door, made sure I was settled inside, then rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat.
“Music preference?” he asked, fingers hovering over the stereo.
“Surprise me.”
The opening notes of Cleo Sol’sWhen I’m in Your Armsfilled the car, smooth and sultry, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, maybe you are listening to me in the shower. I love this song.”
“I dig that shit too.”
“You seem really shocked that you do.”
“If it ain’t in the club, I don’t really listen to music. I spend a lot of time being driven around and handling business between moves. But I like the neo-soul shit you be on.”
“I hate the club. Never been a fan.”
“Color me shocked. I get the vibe you’ve always been a little lady and about your shit. Ain’t no money at the club.”
“Not unless you own it.”
“Exactly, baby. I enjoyed laying up with you the other day. For real. I felt normal for a little bit.”
“It’s funny you bring that up. I haven’t watched anymore. I don’t want to watch it without you.”
He pinched my chin and grinned, but didn't say anything. I was wearing his hard ass down, smoothing him out like water over stone. And he was doing the same to me.
