Laiya’s mouth snapped shut. “Oh.” She pouted. “Okay.”
“But I can make you one. Shouldn’t take more than ten minutes. Be right back.” Des disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Laiya.
And her scent.
And her lips.
And that body.
My composure was dangling on a very precarious string. Two months ago, I almost kissed her. But I wanted to be respectful of her situation. Now I couldn’t think of a good enough reason not to finish what I’d started that night. It seemed I was in a constant state of denial about my ability to maintain control of my emotions when I was around her.We’d reverted back to business as usual, despite everything we’d shared in December. It was torture, seeing her around, pretending I didn’t want her. And I tried—I really did—to be okay with it. But …
I’m not.
I couldn’t go back to a time before I made my intentions clear, before I’d promised to give her everything she needed to move the fuck on. I hadn’t planned on laying my cards on the table, but I couldn’t stop myself either. Although I told her I’d wait until she was officially single, I wanted to set her free now. For me.Only me.
I reached over, wrapped my hand around her wrist, and brought it up to my mouth, rubbing her skin with my nose. “You smell good,” I confessed.
“Spence,” she whispered, “you can’t do this.”
“Like pears and vanilla,” I murmured, darting my tongue out to lick her.
A burst of air escaped her lips, and I wanted to swallow it. I wanted to taste her, to bury my face in her pussy, to hear her groan my name. Mostly, I wanted to consume her, to brand her. Like she’d done to me that day on the playground, before I knew what to do with it, how to handle it.
I traced the lines of the small tattoo on her wrist with my tongue. “Are you divorced yet?”
“Oh God,” she muttered. “Oh shit. No.”
“When?”
“I can’t think, Spence.”
“Just reaffirming my intention to make you mine,” I admitted softly.
“What makes you think I want to be yours?”
Without warning, I gripped the arm of the chair and pulled her closer to me.
She yelped. “Spence?” She glanced at the door to the kitchen, but when she met my eyes again, there was delight in them, not trepidation. “What are you doing?”
“We need to have a talk,” I told her.
“What? I …” She sighed. “Okay, talk.”
“I’m too old to not be real.”
The corners of her mouth quirked up. “Even when you were young, you were real.”
“I’m glad you know that.” I picked up her hand again, bringing it to my lips and placing a kiss to her palm. “You also know how I feel about my time.” A surefire way to piss me off? Waste my damn time.
“I do,” she said.
“I wouldn’t say this is a fault, but I take people at their word. One of my biggest regrets? Letting you marry that clown-ass nigga.”
She gaped at me. “Spencer!”
I loved the way she said my name. “Alaiya.”
“I was convinced I was doing the right thing.”
