She clenched around him, pleasure and panic tangled so tightly she couldn't separate them. One more thrust and they broke together, her body quaking, his groan rough and ragged in her ear.
Chapter Six
The slow throbbetween her legs and the soft knock dragged Kennedi out of what little sleep she’d managed. She groaned, rolling deeper into the covers, trying to hide from the ache in her body and the reminder of everything she’d done.
What they had done…again and again until the early morning bled into sunlight. The nigga was insatiable, and she was still paying for it.
She blinked against the light spilling through the curtains. She shivered.
“You hungry?” His voice rolled through the room, rough from a long night. He stepped back inside like the place was his, leaned down, and pressed his lips to her forehead.
Her eyes fluttered open, and before she could summon a single excuse, his palm was already on her cheek, thumb grazing along her jaw.
“Why did you order breakfast?” she asked, voice husky with sleep.
“I did.” His mouth tugged at one corner, but his eyes never left her; he was also remembering the night they’d shared. “Gotta feed you.”
She hated the way her body betrayed her, softening at his care when her pride wanted to stiffen. The roses that showed up because she’d done her job well. The way he'd stood in front of her in that elevator without flinching. The praise that landed was too specific to be a performance. He took initiative too easily, as if it were second nature. That's what led her to his door in the first place.
“Okay. I’ll be right out.”
She slipped from the bed, sheet wrapped tight, but he stayed exactly where he was.
When she bent to grab her robe, his eyes dropped low, not on the sheet or her robe, but on that tattoo, the pen with a Black woman riding it like a stallion. A writer. A rider.
She caught him. “Rolani!”
“Rolani nothing,” he cut in smoothly, leaving no room for debate. “Ain’t no need in being shy now. I had that pussy spread wide open last night.”
The low laugh made her roll her eyes, fuss under her breath. “Ugh. I still don’t like you.”
Instead of running, she was looking forward to sitting across from him over pancakes like that was normal.
“That’s fine, but I ran you a bath. It’ll help.”
“Really?” she murmured.
Kennedi couldn’t believe her ears, but her eyes saw the proof in his words and the meaning behind his actions. The tub was already full when she stepped inside. Roses floated on the surface, bubbles catching the light. She stood there for a moment, her heart doing something traitorous.
He helped her in without comment, then left.
The water loosened everything she’d been holding. When she stepped out of the shower, wrapped in her robe, skin warm and clean, his gaze softened.
No makeup. No armor. He believed she looked better in her natural, raw state. A vision he couldn’t forget, even if he wanted to.
The table he’d set up in the foyer was covered in silver trays, coffee steaming, juice shining in tall glasses. Her lips twitched at the sight, but she forced the smile away. She wasn’t about to get seduced by scrambled eggs.
Arms crossed, she tried to snatch her composure back, but the truth was, she hadn’t fully learned who she was dealing with. A man who understood boundaries and didn’t give a fuck about them when it came to her. Last night proved that. They’d crossed lines, he’d damn near pulled the trigger for her.
“You’re doing the most.”
“Sit your fine ass down,” he said easily.
She did. The throb between her legs returned on cue.
She tugged her robe tighter, but it slipped anyway, exposing the smooth line of her chest. Rolani let out a low sigh, shaking his head. “See… you playin’,” he muttered under his breath, eyes locked on her.
“Control yourself, Rolani,” she smirked. “There’s no way you still wanna be between my thighs.”
