Page 183 of The Sweetest Return

Her breathing changed.

I heard the invitation before she gave it words, but I waited.

Most of what we'd rebuilt had happened inside spaces that belonged to me or to Crown Weekend. My hotel suite. My house. My couch. I had walked Imani to her condo door before, carried something inside, stood near the entry long enough to tease her about the boxes.

She had never invited me all the way in.

“You want me to walk you up?”

“Yes.”

That one word moved through me differently.

Imani unlocked her door with hands that were a little too careful.

I noticed.

I had been noticing her all night.

At Phipps, under glass and flowers and all that warm green light, she had looked like something a man with sense should thank God for and leave alone until he got her somewhere private. Black dress. Plum leather boots. Lips shining. Eyes catching mine every time she thought I was not watching. She had touched those Rouge Royale roses like beauty still had the power to surprise her, and I had spent the rest of the night thinking about putting my hands where those petals had made hers go soft.

Now her condo door opened, and the air changed.

Her place was dim except for one lamp tucked on a table near the far wall, half-hidden behind a stack of books and a candle she had probably lit before we left because Imani liked pretending ambiance was an accident. Boxes sat along the wall. A framed print leaned near the hallway. Her shoes were still in places only she understood.

Her home was unfinished. Her want was not.

She stepped inside ahead of me, set her purse down, and turned.

I closed the door behind us.

The lock clicked.

For one second, we only looked at each other.

Then I was on her.

My mouth found hers while my hands went to the hem of that black dress, and she helped me get it over her head, both of us moving too fast to care where it landed. Plum lace. Brown skin. Those damn boots.

I stepped back just enough to look at her.

“Keep the boots on.”

Her mouth curved, and I kissed the smile off it before she could say anything smart.

Her breasts sat full in the cups, the lace barely holding them, and in the dim light from that one obscure lamp, her nipple rings glistened through the fabric like they had been waiting on me all night. Her mouth looked wet and sweet, gloss still shining on those pretty lips. Her eyes stayed on mine, hungry enough to make my chest tighten.

“Damn.”

Her lashes lowered.

That little bit of shyness tried to show itself, but the hunger was stronger.

My hands found her waist, and I kissed her hard enough to move her back a step. She made a soft sound into my mouth, and that was all the permission my patience needed to die. I kissed her deeper, one hand sliding up her back, the other gripping her soft hip while her nails dragged over my shoulders and to the back of my head.

I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth.

She whimpered.