“So that night...” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “If I hadn’t been there?—”
“I don’t know what I would’ve done. But it wouldn’t have been good.”
She understood now why he’d pursued her so relentlessly, why he wouldn’t let her run. He wasn’t chasing a woman he wanted. He was holding onto the only person who could calm his chaos. “I didn’t know you were hurting like that.”
“Some days I got that shit under control. Others I’m sitting in the dark thinking about how she went peacefully, natural causes, that’s what they said. But I can name five niggas walking around right now who don’t deserve the air they breathing, and my grandmother is in the ground. That shit still makes me sick, Ken.”
The timer sounded on the cookies, and Kennedi took off for the kitchen. She appreciated him opening up to her, but it was giving her heart palpitations. She had never felt a connection so intense, and before she ran, she needed to breathe through it.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
She stood in the kitchen, hands gripping the counter, trying to catch her breath. The timer was still beeping. She barely heard it.
Behind her, she heard him stand. Heard his footsteps. She could feel him getting closer. She turned the timer off, pulled the cookies from the oven, and set them on the counter.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
“Ken?”
She didn’t look at him yet. She focused on the second batch.
“I scared you?” His tone was careful. He was already bracing for her to shut down.
She turned around. He was standing in the doorway, not crowding her. She didn't want him to stop there.
“Yes and no.” She held his gaze. “Yes, because I've never had a man let me see them like you do. And no, because I'm still here,Rolani. You are a complex man, but you're my man, and I'm settling in, that's all.”
He went quiet and massaged his beard.
“You sick, Ken?”
He smiled, attempting to break up the seriousness swirling among them. His mind wasn’t even on that, to be honest, he was looking at her with thoughts of devouring her. The softer she got, the harder he got. He shook his head. It had been way too long.
“No, but I want you to take your time with whatever you’re carrying, and you let me be here for it.”
He stepped closer, breathing her in—that perfume that drove him crazy, the warmth of her body against his, the way she fit perfectly like she was made for this exact spot.
“I prayed every night you’d come back. Prayed I’d get my hands on you again, get to remind you what this feels like,” he said against her hair. His grip tightened slightly. “A nigga glad God was listening.”
She tilted her head back to look at him, and the want in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees.
“So why you still talking?” The challenge in her voice, that little smirk on her lips, said she knew exactly what she was doing to him. “I want you, Rolani. You said you’d handle it.”
He lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist automatically.
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
She nodded.
“I don’t know, love. We got twenty minutes until our cookies are done.”
“Shh.” He sat her down on the kitchen table, his hands steadying her hips. He took her in—beautiful, glowing, carrying his baby. The sight of her made his tough ass combust every time. He leaned in and kissed her deep, his tongue slidingagainst hers, tasting the chocolate chips she’d been sneaking while they cooked.
A moan escaped her lips. He’d been waiting for this for a minute, and the precum at the tip of his dick told the story. He pulled her shirt over her head and stopped to look at her. Her breasts spilled over the cheetah print bra. He needed them in his mouth.
He unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor behind him.
She tensed. Her breasts had been so sensitive lately that even the shower had her knees buckling. But when he touched her, when his fingers found her nipple and twisted it—not soft, firm—the nervousness turned into pure want.
