I couldn’t tell if he was entirely serious or teasing me or both at the same time. All my tense muscles relaxed an inch. My mind, usually overworked with constant decision-making, strategizing, and executing, went into a blissful resting state.
“It’s just like omakase,” I whispered with a sudden awe.
Wes lifted his brows. “Oh?”
“Being submissive, I mean. No agonizing over endless options on a six-page menu. The chef hand-crafts each delicious morsel, and all you have to do is open your mouth.”
Wes groaned. “I fucking love your strange little mind.”
His lips met mine, slow and deliberate, just as he’d promised. It was me who wanted more, who held the back of his head and pressed closer against him. I chased his tongue with mine, reveling in the way he responded to me.
But I reveled even more in the way hedidn’t.
I wasn’t steering the ship.
Wes didn’t get swept up in my urgency, my hunger. He teased me with his even pace, the deep, measured rise and fall of his chest against mine. When he pulled away, his hand rested lightly on my throat.
When I chased his lips, he pulled back. “Ah-ah.” His hand applied the lightest pressure to the sides of my neck.
I halted, my core suddenly molten. I went utterly still. Waiting.
Wes stroked my hair, eyes softening. “Good girl.”
On our way to acquire snacks, not one, buttwodifferent people on the street recognized Wes and said hello. Just steps from a bodega, a third person stopped in front of us.
She was a Latina woman in her late thirties, her hair in a ponytail and two small children racing ahead of her on scooters.
“Wes,” she said with a disarming grin. “How are you?”
“I’m great, Lola. How are you and yours?”
She gestured ahead of her. “Busy. Always busy.” She chuckled, turning her attention to me. “He’s a saint, you know,” she said with an enthusiastic nod.
I glanced up at Wes, who shrugged off the statement with ease.
“This is Nova,” he said, smiling down at me. “You all have a great Sunday. I’m sure I’ll see you around Third House soon.”
“Yeah, you too. We missed you at book club. Bring your friend,” she said, winking at me.
After she was out of ear shot, I asked, “Are you some kind of local celebrity?”
Wes led me inside the bodega with a chuckle. “I told you, I like talking to people. I like people in general. And they’re neighbors.”
It struck me that Wes might’ve considered every resident of Greenpoint his neighbor.
The bodega guy greeted Wes the exact same way all the others had, and all I could do was watch them joke and jab at each other in utter amazement.
“Nice to meet you, Nova,” Ángel said.
“You too.”
Wes pulled me toward the snacks. He surprised me by going for the Doritos, as I couldn’t imagine orange crumbs on his marble finishes. But I remembered he grew up in the South like me. No Whole Foods for miles and miles.
“A classic,” Wes said of my popcorn choice.
He grabbed two different sour candies, and I chose chocolate and an ice cream bar.
“I’m learning so much about you,” Wes said, leaning down close to my ear. When he kissed my temple, I shuddered.
