The second the first ray of sunshine blasted into my room, I sprang up in the bed like a board. Tossing the covers off my legs, I slid my feet into the pair of Crocs Dior had purchased for me. I’d been staying with him for a few days and was starting to get an idea of his routine.
Quadior was an early riser who thrived off a workout first thing in the morning. Today, I was determined to join him because being stuffed in his guest bedroom wasn’t cutting it. It was starting to feel like I’d left one prison for another. I didn’t want to ruminate with the dark thoughts that feeling like that created in me. I needed to touch grass immediately and literally. It was the only thing that could save my sanity.
I slipped into a two-piece workout set from the pile of clothes I was gifted. Everything fit perfectly, even though I never left the house to try them on. I was thankful to be tucked away in Dior’s home. For the first time in a long time, there was peace in my life, even if there was a little tension as well. He had yet to speak on our past, and neither had I. With the absence of a phone, I was completely disconnected from reality. It turned out it was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.
I raced down the hallway to find Dior sitting in the foyer placing his running shoes on. Taking a seat beside him, I mimicked him by doing the same. I ignored the way his proximity felt against my skin. We were merely inches away from touching, and it had me on edge.
If I was being honest, Dior was the best eye candy to be tucked away with. He was abnormally tall with an athletic build. His wheat complexion made a good canvas for the many tattoos he had on his slender neck. Because his jaw was so square, he always looked serious for no reason. Even when we were teenagers, his naturally dark, low eyes were easy to get lost in. Nothing had changed, not even his slender nose. If anything, he just looked even more serious now than he did when he was younger.
Next, my eyes fell to his plump, berry-colored lips, and I knew they were soft. His recent trip to the barber wasn’t fair because his goatee and hairline were trimmed to perfection. I just knew all eyes were on him everywhere he went. I rolled my eyes realizing he had the nerve to get a retwist and two-strand twists too. He looked good, and I was sure he knew it.
Dior wasn’t necessarily friendly, but he wasn’t terrible to be around either. I was sure the former had more to do with our past than him disliking me. I wasn’t brave enough to press the issue, though. For the most part, he let me keep to myself. He only invaded my space to force me to eat. Other than that, theman left me completely alone, and today, I was done with that. If I was going to be here with him, then I wanted to be here, if that made sense.
“What are you doing?” he finally shattered the silence to ask me.
“Going with you,” I replied as if it were obvious.
“Says who?”
“Says me. If I stay cooped up in the house another day, then I’m going to lose my mind. I know you don’t want to be the reason I finally get some grippy socks. Not the Pilates kind either.”
I saw the slightest quirk of his upper lip, making me feel just a little victorious. “You sure you want to do this?”
I shrugged and stood up proudly. “What do I have to lose?”
I had a hard time labeling the look he gave me, so I brushed it off. It was best to ignore, . . . deny, . . . pretend. . . He opened the front door, and the sweltering heat slapped me right in the face. I damn near turned around, because it was too early in the morning to be this hot and humid.
“Oh my God, it’s too hot out here,” I whined, but it fell on deaf ears as Dior pushed me out the door.
I heard it lock in place behind us. “Bring your pretty ass on,” he mumbled on his way by me.
The only reason I followed him was because he called me pretty. Of course, if there were more opportunities to hear him compliment me, I was going to collect them like Mario coins. “Since you’re begging, I guess.”
He snorted but remained quiet as he led us to his circular driveway. I followed his lead as he began to take us through a series of stretches. My ribs were less of a burden today, so I was feeling like I could take on the world. That was until we started running around the stone wall surrounding his property. I washuffing and puffing only a few minutes into the jog, and Dior refused to allow me to quit.
“Boy, I can’t breathe,” I said between my heaving.
“No way. We just started. You can do this, mama.” He turned around and began to jog backwards like a show-off. He wasn’t even breathing hard, but at least he was sweating. Each drop literally humanized him.
I couldn’t stop my eyes from trailing down to his chiseled midsection. Dior was fucking ripped in all the right places and ways. When I felt myself growing curious about the cuts leading into the waistband of his basketball shorts, I had to avert my attention. He chuckled, knowing exactly what I’d caught wind of. Since Anwar taught me how to catch print on the Tok, I couldn’t help but test his theory out. From what I saw, Dior was giving D in all the right ways.
“I don’t think I can. You’re going to have to carry me back to the house.” I stopped running to catch my breath. I kept my eyes on Dior when I bent over to rest my hands on my knees.
“Oh yeah?” he questioned with a quirked brow.
I nodded once. “No doubt. You’re looking all swole these days. I’m sure you could lift two hundred and fifty pounds like a sack of potatoes.”
I hated the way my eyes were glued to him tracing the surface of his lips with his tongue. “You trying to find out?”
“Mmhm.” I held out my arms, waiting for him to pick me up.
What I wasn’t expecting was for him to do just that. Except, instead of carrying me bridal style, he picked me up like a baby, forcing my legs around his wide waist. His arms held me in place as he started bouncing me up and down in the air. The second tap of my clit against his hardened abs had my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
“Put me down, put me down.”
He chuckled, refusing to do so while creating this arousal in my core that was seconds away from leaking through my two-piece set. “Why? I thought you said I had to carry you back to the house?”
“I did, but I didn’t mean like this, and you’re going in the wrong direction. The house is that way.” I pointed behind us for emphasis.
