Chapter 10
Alijah
Iwasn’t supposed to feel anything for another woman after having my feelings put through the garbage disposal of my last residence. But that damn Deshona walked her little ass into this apartment with her face red and wet with tears. My fucking chest tightened faster than a nigga in jail trying to clutch his cheeks, waiting to take a shower. Not to mention how hard my dick gets every time I see Deshona’s eyes linger on me. At this point, I’m not sure if she’s even aware that her eyes automatically fall to my dick whenever we’re in the same room for any amount of time. I’ve been walking around silently reciting scriptures, as it’s the only thing I can think of that won’t produce sexual thoughts.
Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes; your name is like perfume poured out.
“Jesus!” I hang my head when a scripture from the Song of Songs echoes in my mind, pretty much calling me a liar.
My biggest dilemma, other than the pebbles that Deshona’s nipples become, is that I’m not even a nigga who practices Christianity. Sure, I believe in God and His infinite wisdom and power. But my knowledge of scriptures is a result of Ma sending us to several vacation Bible schools during the summer so wewouldn’t be running like chickens with our heads cut off around the neighborhood. Her words, not mine. Thanks to Ms. Andy, I know more scriptures than I care to admit. It’s an unknown fact I hide because I have yet to find it to be an attribute anyone but people in church would appreciate.
“Straight up bullshit.”
“Is there something you need to add, Alijah?” My boss’s question shifts my thoughts as my eyes shift to see that my microphone isn’t muted.
Damn.
Thanks to Deshona, my focus is completely shot to hell. I have been unable to shift my thoughts from her watery eyes all day. She never told me where she had to go today, but it’s been hours, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her since I jumped her vehicle. I’ve been antsy and holding my breath as the minutes have ticked into hours. I just want to know that she’s okay and that her vehicle holds a charge. Not having her number, I can’t call or text her, which irks me more than the fact that she has yet to return home.
“No. Everything is good.” I answer Mr. Kinley, finally, while I hold my breath to see if he’ll let it go or push further.
“Perfect. Alright. I’m going to release you all from this meeting. But if something comes up tomorrow, send an email immediately. I don’t want to return to any surprises,” Mr. Kinley says before the screen blanks from him abruptly disconnecting the meeting.
My mind has been on Deshona so long that I can’t recall what was said during the meeting, which leads me to fire off a quick email to one of my colleagues. We exchange communication for a few minutes as they catch me up on the missing pieces I missed from Mr. Kinley’s spiel. Once that’s done, I breathe a sigh of relief because I can finally log off for the day. Since I helped Deshona this morning, I had to stay later than usual. The urgeto go for a run has me moving through the process of shutting down my laptop. Then I grab my house keys and head out the door.
It takes me roughly ten seconds after the elevator opens on the garage level to realize what I did. I shake my head as I allow my subconscious to dictate my steps through the place, and my eyes burn when I try not to look at the place where Deshona’s SUV was parked earlier. I’m not sure what dampens my mood more: my subconscious leading me to this garage, or my disappointment at the absence of Deshona’s vehicle. Fresh out of a disaster, the last thing I need is another woman or the distraction of one. I shake myself loose before I jog out of the garage and head down the street away from the front entrance. I have no idea where I’m going, but the need to clear my head fills me with urgency.
You wouldn’t be in this situation had you just laid your cards on the floor when that woman stared at your dick like it was a steak. Hell, you could have put both of y’all out of your misery. But no, you want to jack your dick like a pervert every night. Sad ass.
The more thoughts enter my wayward mind, the harder I run as water forms on my forehead and under my arms. Yet, it’s not enough to slow my steps since my damn mind won’t stop throwing out shoulda, coulda, woulda scenarios. I lose track of how long I've been running, and before I know it, I’m covered in moisture that almost makes it difficult to see, from the water that falls into my eyes. With intense tunnel vision, I return home but take the main entrance instead of the garage so I can avoid checking for Deshona.
“Yuck. You’re dripping everywhere,” a woman says when I step onto the elevator. Her lips are twisted, and her eyes are tight as a low, humorless chuckle falls from my mouth.
No shit, Sherlock.
“Aren’t you Captain Obvious,” I say as a statement and not a question before I push my floor and step back out of the way of anyone.
Less than five minutes later, I insert my key into the front door and damn near trip over my feet when something mouthwatering fills my nostrils.
She’s back!
I head to the kitchen, totally forgetting about my sweaty state because I need to lay eyes on Ms. Missing In Action. It’s on the tip of my tongue to question where she’s been, but words get lodged in my throat when a portion of Deshona’s back, along with her bare thighs and feet, come into view.
“Damn.” The word doesn’t ask for permission, nor do I have time to regret or refute it, when Deshona turns and our eyes connect.
My body heat shifts instantly, and a feeling of home invades my mind with enough intensity that all I can do is stare wordlessly.
“Hey. I’m planning a thank-you dinner for you. You came through in a pinch this morning, and I want to show my appreciation.”
If you let me fuck you afterward, it’ll be me returning the sentiment.
“You need any help?” It’s the diplomatic, appropriate response, but damn if I don’t want to say the thought ringing on repeat.
“Nope. I’m good. Thanks. Go get cleaned up.”
“Want to come help me?” The question runs out of my mouth like vomit, and Deshona’s eyes flash with intrigue and curiosity as silence enters the room.
For countless seconds, our eyes communicate words neither of us utters verbally. I’m telling Deshona all the ways I can please her while she’s asking me if I’m willing to scream hername. My dick twitches the longer we war with our eyes, and the temperature increases as Deshona shifts from side to side.
