“So you call me over because you’re bored?” I teased as I stroked her calf.
She set her glass down and shrugged. “Maybe I missed you.”
“Mhm. I’m not about to do this shit with you, Dre.”
“What?” She batted her lashes innocently.
“Where’s Gunnar?”
“My mom has him for the weekend.”
I shook my head, letting her feet slide off my lap as I stood. “Yeah, I’m out.”
“Why?” She caught the hem of my hoodie.
I sighed and rubbed my face. “You not about to fuck on me and then leave my ass on read for another six months.”
“Don’t you got that bitch up in Brooklyn? I don’t see the issue,” she let out an annoyed breath.
“The issue is, I don’t fucking love her.”
Her eyes widened like I’d set off a grenade in the room. But this wasn’t news—I’d told her how I felt on more than one occasion. I let her brother and everyone else believe I was the one playing games. Truth was, I’d been ready to change her last name to Hawkins, but she refused to move past her demons.
I stared at her, searching her face, tired of feeling like the nigga she keeps in her back pocket in case of emergencies.
“I—” she started, voice faltering as she still held tight to me. She was stuck, battling conflicting emotions, not sure if she wanted to let me in or push me away.
I licked my lips and leaned down, crowding her space. “I told you, I was done doing this push-pull shit with you. We not about to be doing that dumb shit your brother and Nairobi were on. I’m not that kind of nigga. If you want me here, say that, and say it with your chest. If not, let me go.”
She looked at me, those hazel-green eyes telling me she wanted to say yes, but she was trying her best to keep that wall up. Then her fingers slid down to lace with mine, thumb brushing over my knuckles.
“You know I can’t do a relationship right now, Melo. With Gunnar… the salon...”
I sat back down. “Haven’t I treated you like you’re the only woman on this earth for me? You know I’d step up for Gunnar too. Why you keep pushing me away?”
She laughed nervously and looked away, but I caught her chin, bringing her face back to mine.
“Why you keep pretending you too good for me?”
She rolled her eyes, but there was no malice in it. Her hands slid up my chest, fingers curling around the strings of my hoodie. “I never thought I was too good for you, Melo.”
My lips found hers—testing the waters, moving slowly like we had all night to get reacquainted. She tasted like red wineand bad decisions. She moaned into my mouth, running her nails along the back of my neck.
Our clothes came off slowly. My hoodie. Her sweatshirt. Her yoga pants. I gripped her thighs, soft and warm, pulling her under me. Her breath caught when my hand found the heat between her legs and started rubbing her through the thin fabric of her panties.
“You miss me for real, Sweetness?” I murmured, kissing along her jaw. “Or just the way I make you feel.”
She shivered and pressed harder against my hand as her eyes fluttered closed. “Both,” she breathed.
I slid her panties to the side and found her already soaked for me. “Pussy says otherwise,” I muttered as my fingers ran through her slick folds.
“Slim—” she panted.
“Nah, you call me Melo. Fuck that,” I corrected as I dipped my head to kiss her throat, tracing her pulse with my tongue. She whimpered and grabbed at my shoulders. I slid two fingers inside her, using my thumb to rub her clit. Her back arched off the couch, thighs tightening around my wrist.
“Melo, fu—” she gasped.
“Let me hear you, baby. Don’t hold back.”
