Her brows lifted. “Acting funny?”
“Yeah. Pretending like you ain’t feeling a nigga.”
Her laugh came easier this time. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“I’m sure of what I see.”
And there he went again, making her feel things she didn’t ask for but had no way of controlling. Heavy continued, giving her a chance to collect herself. “It’s all good, though. I’m feeling you, too.”
Her deep, melanin-rich skin hid her blush but not the lift of her cheeks.Only a real man, confident in himself, would admit that so openly,Cyren thought to herself.
She shook her head, not bothering to acknowledge what he’d just said. “I should probably go back inside. My break is almost over.”
Heavy nodded, though neither of them moved right away. The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It felt reluctant like neither of them wanted to be the first person to end their little car date. Cyren finally turned toward him fully, giving him a soft smile.
“Thank you,” she said again. “For lunch and for checking on me.”
Heavy’s gaze held hers. “You ain’t gotta keep thanking me.”
“I know, but I want to. You deserve to be told you’re appreciated.”
Something unreadable flickered across his face before he reached over and brushed a crumb from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. The simple gesture made her entire body still. Cyren just blinked as he smirked and pushed his door open. Dumbfounded, she touched where his thumb had just been, wishing it were his lips.
Heavy rounded the front of the truck, before she could sit in that thought too long, and opened her door. Cyren stared at him for a second. Still shocked, but genuinely impressed by hischivalry, she smiled. She was looking at him as if it were a rare thing. Unfortunately for her, it was.
“I see you ain’t touch that door,” he joked but was glad she listened.
“I told you I wouldn’t.”
Heavy smirked. “Good.”
Cyren placed her drink in his outstretched hand as she climbed out. The moment her feet hit the pavement, she turned toward him with every intention to give a casual goodbye. She should’ve known better. Heavy stepped into her space, pulling her into his chest. Cyren let out a soft gasp that quickly turned into a laugh as her free hand pressed against his chest to steady herself.
His arms wrapped around her waist, strong and secure, while his face nestled in the crook of her neck. For a moment, she forgot they were standing in the parking lot of her job in broad daylight. Her cheek rested against his chest as she inhaled his cologne for what felt like the hundredth time in twenty minutes. Cyren giggled as he kissed her neck, squeezing her tighter.
“We’re in public, and you’re manhandling me like this,” she murmured.
Heavy quietly laughed above her, running his nose where his lips had been. “That was manhandling?”
“Yes,” Cyren let out breathlessly.
“Nah. This is me being nice.”
Cyren pulled back just enough to look at him and didn’t have enough time to register him softly smacking her ass and squeezing it. Not hard enough to disrespect her but just enough to make her choke on her own breath.
“Rashaun,” she sharply whispered, eyes widening.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “My fault.”
“You are not sorry.”
“You right.” He chuckled. “I ain’t. Just letting you know how it can get. But you know that.”
Cyren shook her head while trying not to smile but failing. “You were doing so good.”
“I’m still doing good. I didn’t stick my tongue down your throat like I wanted to.”
Her stomach flipped at the casual way he said it. Like they’dalwaysbeen tongue-kissing one another. Like he wanted to. Like he was activelychoosingnot to. Somehow, that restraint felt sexier than if he had actually done it.
