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“Saadiq,” she whimpered, reaching for me.

“Shh. I’ll see you soon. I promise,” I soothed.

I stayed until she settled, her light snores a cute indication that sleep had reclaimed her.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes again was a text message from Saadiq.

Saadiq M:

Good morning, Apple. Be ready by 10. Wear something comfortable. And bring a swimsuit.

Me:

Good morning to you too. Where we going?

Saadiq M:

On a date.

I rolled my eyes.

Me:

That tells me absolutely nothing.

Saadiq M:

It tells you to be ready at 10.

I stared at the phone. This man was so damn aggravating sometimes. Another message appeared before I could formulate an appropriately sarcastic response.

Saadiq M:

And don't eat breakfast. I got you.

Aww. The whole text thread made me smile so hard my cheeks hurt. I was pitiful.

I’d spent the last six and a half years managing Saadiq Masters’s calendar, arranging his travel, anticipating his needs. In the middle of all that sometimes, I wondered whether a jury of my peers would convict me if I strangled him. Now, the same man was arranging my day, and I was lying in bed grinning at my phone like a teenager. I liked this way too much. I just might need professional help.

I yawned and stretched my arms above my head before dragging out of bed to get ready. I winced a little, the previous night’s and early morning’s activities evident in my pleasantly sore body. I wondered if it would ever be easy with us. But the part of me who liked her pleasure limned with pain wasn’t sure that I wanted it to be. At precisely ten o'clock, my doorbell rang. Of course, it did because my boss was as punctual as I was. I opened the door after a quick peek out the peephole. Saadiq stood on the other side wearing white linen shorts, a pale blue polo, and sunglasses. I could tell his beard had just been brushed and moisturized, and he smelled good enough to make me reconsider whether we even needed to leave my villa.

He looked me over slowly. “Goddamn, Apple,” he murmured finally.

I glanced down at my yellow sundress and flat sandals, pretending to be surprised by his comment. “What?”

“You.”

“Look at you, so articulate this morning! Your clients must love this.”

“Come here, let me give you something better to do with that mouth.”

I stepped toward him, and he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest. His kiss was warm and slow, igniting too many things for ten o’clock in the morning.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning.”

“You ready?”