Possession: An Interracial Romance (Redemption Book 3)

by T. K. Leigh

  “Did you get lost?” a soft voice interrupts.

  My mother and I simultaneously dart our attention toward the hallway, the padding of delicate footsteps growing closer.

  “We were supposed to spend all day in bed together. You’re really cutting into our naked—”

  As Londyn rounds the corner and sees I’m not alone, she comes to an abrupt stop, inhaling sharply. At least she had the wherewithal to grab one of my button-down shirts and slipped it on. Otherwise, this probably would have been more awkward than it already is. But I don’t care about making my mother comfortable. I’m no longer interested in putting her happiness above my own. That ship has sailed.

  Giving Londyn a reassuring smile, I grab her coffee and hand it to her. A dozen questions swirl in her eyes, but the last thing I want is for her to doubt the promises I made last night.

  I place a kiss on her forehead, then wrap an arm around her and pull her close, much to my mother’s astonishment.

  “Mother, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Londyn Bennett. She’s the interior designer I hired to restore Gampy and Meemaw’s ‘shack’, as you call it, although I’d be hard-pressed to call the place of so many wonderful memories a ‘shack’. She’s also my girlfriend.”

  I take a sip of coffee, gauging both Londyn’s and my mother’s reaction. I’m more concerned with Londyn’s, though, considering we haven’t exactly discussed any labels.

  “Your…girlfriend?” My mother grimaces, as if the word leaves a sour taste on her tongue.

  “Yes. Although, if I’m being honest, the term feels woefully inadequate to properly convey what Londyn has become to me.” I smile down at her, ignoring the heated stare coming from a few feet away.

  “But what will people think, Weston?” my mother hisses, forcing my attention back to her. “Think about the firm.”

  “The firm?” I ask, unsure I heard her correctly.

  “What will some of our clients think if they learned you’re dating a…a…”

  Muscles tensing, I tighten my grip on Londyn when she attempts to slink away. I knew I’d eventually have to face this. After all, the family my mother married into has never exactly been accepting of anyone who isn’t white. Some of them probably wouldn’t object if we re-instituted slavery. But I’d hoped she would wait to voice her ill-placed concerns until we were in private. Then again, nothing should surprise me with her anymore.

  “A what, Mother? A beautiful, smart, kind, compassionate, amazing woman?”

  “You know what I’m talking about,” she states, treating Londyn with disinterest, acting as if she isn’t even in the room. “You’re more than aware that some of the firm’s longest and highest paying clients have certain…predispositions.”

  “I am. And if they take issue with the fact that I’m in love with someone who’s not white, then they’re not the type of people I want to be associated with in the first place. Not the type of people I want the firm associated with.”

  She balks, peering at me as if I just sprouted another head. “In love?” she mocks. “You can’t be serious, Weston.”

  “Oh, I’m very serious.” I maintain eye contact with her, making it more than apparent I won’t back down. Not this time. Not when it comes to Londyn. “So if there’s nothing more you need, I suggest you leave before you say something you’ll regret.”

  “Is this any way to treat your mother?” she retorts. “I raised you to treat people with respect.”

  “Actually, Gampy and Meemaw raised me, since you were usually too busy getting your hair done or gossiping with your catty friends. And do you know what they taught me? That respect must be earned. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mother, but you haven’t earned my respect in years. I’m not sure you ever have. So until you treat everyone in my life with respect, including Londyn and Julia, I won’t bestow that honor on you.” I glower at her.

  “I…” She blinks repeatedly, struggling to come up with some sort of argument in response, something to make her appear deserving of respect.

  I doubt she’s done anything out of the kindness of her heart in years, preferring to trample over people in order to feel superior. That’s just who she is. She uses people as stepping stones to get what she wants. She doesn’t form close bonds. In her eyes, everyone’s disposable, including her own parents. It’s a wonder she’s still married to my father. Then again, his bank account is reason enough for her.

  “If there’s nothing else you need,” I say when she doesn’t make a move, “please leave. I have no tolerance for your lack of compassion.”

  She pins me with a glare, the seconds stretching. Finally, she spins around, storming out of my house and slamming the door behind her, causing the wine glasses hanging below the cabinets to rattle.

  I blow out a breath, setting my mug onto the counter. Facing Londyn, I run my hands down her arms. “I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have answered the door. I should—”

  Before I can complete my thought, she grips the back of my head, the harshness of her hold cutting me off. “Shut up and kiss me.” She yanks my mouth toward hers.

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.” I crash my lips against hers, our tongues tangling as I pull her closer. My hands roam her frame, something about her in my clothes turning me on more than I thought it would. When my hand disappears under the shirt and I discover she’s not wearing any panties, I harden.

  Gripping her ass, I hoist her onto the counter, her kiss scalding and intoxicating as I pulse against her. I tear away from her, peppering kisses along the length of her throat, her skin salty and sweet.

  “No one’s ever stood up for me like that,” she exhales huskily, losing herself in my touch. “It’s such a fucking turn-on.”

  With an animalistic desire, she returns her blazing eyes to mine and reaches for my waist, shoving my bottoms down my hips.

  My pulse skyrockets, everything about this completely unexpected. Then again, Londyn is the most unexpected thing I’ve ever experienced.

  I never intended to fall for her, just like she never intended to fall for me. But we fell. Now, I never want to return from this sweet place of exhilaration where all the problems we’re sure to face will never find us.

  Like we just got a taste of with my mother, this won’t be easy. Despite it being the twenty-first century, there will be people who won’t like the idea of us together, especially in my typical social circles. We’ve made it this far, though. And as long as we’re together, I have faith we’ll get through anything life throws at us.

  Our chests heave in unison as I bring my erection up to her center, rubbing her desire around. She keeps her eyes trained on me, just like I asked her to last night. Her pupils dilate, need radiating from her.

  I’m about to ease inside her when she places her hand on my chest, stopping me.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  A sly smile quirks on her lips. “Don’t be gentle this time.”

  I swallow hard. “Are you sure?”

  “Wes, I’m not this delicate piece of glass you’ll break if you exert too much pressure. Maybe I used to feel like I was broken, but I don’t anymore. I’ve never been with someone I felt comfortable enough around to explore my sexuality. Sawyer always made me feel like there was something wrong with me if I wanted to change things up or try something new. But now I know what sex can be like. And last night was incredible. Better than incredible. I want to explore everything we’re capable of. I’m finally with someone I trust. Who will never hurt me. Who loves me. So, please…”

  Her gaze resolute, she slowly unbuttons her shirt, her motions drawn out. With each button she unfastens, my hunger grows to the point I don’t think I’ll make it inside her before I lose my head. It’s not the fact she’s baring her body to me that has my desire ratcheting up to its breaking point. It’s that she’s baring her soul to me.

  Curving toward me, she nibbles on my lower lip. “Be free with me.” She shrugs the shirt off her shoulders, allowing it t
o pool behind her on the counter. Then she spreads her thighs wider, leaning back on her hands, giving me permission to do whatever my heart desires.

  “If it’s too much, tell me. Don’t think you have to do this for me.”

  “I don’t. For the first time in my life, I want to do this. For me.” She hooks her legs around me, erasing any space separating us. Then she wraps her fingers around my erection, stroking it as she brings it toward her entrance. She thrusts her hips at the same time as she tightens her legs, urging me inside in one quick motion.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, a jolt of desire striking me deep in my core.

  “That’s the point, Wes.” She digs her nails into my back, and I briefly close my eyes, savoring the combination of pleasure and pain shooting through me. “I want you to fuck me.”

  My chest rises and falls with my uneven breaths. I fight the urge to ask if she’s sure. I don’t have to. I see it in the hard determination in her eyes.

  Cupping her cheeks, I draw her lips to mine, plunging my tongue into her mouth as I move inside her, slowly at first. I worry if I don’t take my time, this will be over in a heartbeat. And I don’t want this moment to end.

  “I love you,” I murmur against her lips as I withdraw, then drive into her.

  Her breathing grows ragged, her grip on my back becoming harsher. I repeat the motion, going even deeper as I whisper the same incantations of love.

  “Again,” she begs against my throat.

  “I love you,” I say once more, driving into her again. But this time, I don’t draw it out, thrusting into her in a punishing rhythm.

  “Oh god,” she moans, wrapping her legs tighter around me, meeting me thrust for thrust.

  My nostrils flare, my muscles clench, my mind a haze as I’m driven by one thing and one thing alone. This incredible, remarkable woman whose path crossed mine. I don’t know how or what I did to have luck finally turn in my favor, but I’ll forever be grateful.

  “Come on, honeybee.” I nibble on her neck, addicted to the taste of her flesh.

  My legs ache, but nothing will make me stop this now. Any lingering soreness will be worth it when I feel her clench around me. And I can sense she’s fighting it, wanting this to last.

  “Let me have it. Let me feel what I do to you.” I bring my lips back to hers, our breath intermingling. “Be free with me.”

  “Wes,” she whimpers as her orgasm takes over, causing her to writhe and quiver, her cries echoing against the tall ceilings of my home. It’s all I need to set me off. I release inside her with a strangled groan, crashing my mouth against hers.

  I slow my motions, our kiss transitioning from one of desperation and hunger to respect and veneration. Then she giggles.

  Pulling back, I tilt my head. “What’s that for?”

  She smirks. “Honeybee?”

  “Sorry.” I run a hand through my hair. “I’ve been wanting to call you that since our first kiss. I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

  “I think it’s sweet. Just wondering if there’s a story behind it.”

  I rest my forehead on hers. “Because your nectar is sweeter than honey…honeybee.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Londyn

  “As much as I’m kind of digging this blindfold,” Wes says as I keep his hands in mine, leading him from his Range Rover and toward Gampy and Meemaw’s house, fallen leaves crunching under our feet, “I’d rather you be the one blindfolded.” He smiles slyly.

  I laugh. I may not be able to see his eyes, but I can picture them heating.

  “Plus, I helped with the remodel,” he continues. “I know what it looks like inside. This is completely unnecessary if you ask me.”

  I stop walking as we approach the front porch. “Maybe I just wanted to put a blindfold on you.”

  “Is that right?” He curves toward me, seeking my lips, but I remain just out of reach, taunting and teasing.

  “It was part of my plan so I can have my wicked way with you.” I trail a finger down his chest, stopping just shy of his belt. “And while you did help with the remodel, I banished you earlier this month while I put all the finishing touches on everything. Trust me. This house looks nothing like it did the last time you saw it. Now, watch your step coming up the porch.”

  I help him up the short flight of stairs, through the door, and into the foyer, positioning him beside Julia and Imogene, who wear blindfolds of their own.

  While I’d hoped to have an extra week to do the big reveal around Thanksgiving, when I learned they were coming into town early so Julia could help with the large amount of holiday orders at her Atlanta bakery, I pulled several all-nighters to get the house finished before they arrived. I still can’t believe it hasn’t even been three months since I’ve last seen them. Or that Wes and I have only been together a little more than a month. It seems like it’s been so much longer. Probably because, for all intents and purposes, we started dating back during the summer. I just hadn’t admitted it.

  “Okay.” I clap my hands together, bouncing on the balls of my feet, nervous and excited to see what they think of all my hard work over the last several months, especially these past few weeks. “You can remove your blindfolds.”

  Imogene rips hers off, Wes and Julia following suit. I simply stand back and soak in their reaction.

  “Oh, my god…,” Julia breathes, looking up at the high ceiling of the entryway where a lantern-style chandelier now hangs, welcoming everyone who enters. “Is this even the same house?” Her chin trembles as she soaks in Gampy and Meemaw’s remodeled home.

  “Let’s start in the living room.” I walk from the foyer and through a pair of open French doors leading to the hallway, a touch I’d seen in many other Southern homes of this style.

  “Is this…,” Julia interrupts.

  I stop, grinning when I see her gaze fixated on the scattered frames I’d hung in the hallway. “I repurposed some of the trim we ripped out. Made them into frames.” I gesture to the matting. “And I was able to save some of the original wallpaper.”

  “And the photos?” Her voice catches.

  “Wes helped.” I flash him a smile, nothing but admiration and pride in his gaze as he finally sees what I did with the photos I’d asked him to find. It’s a wall of memories. Some of Meemaw and Gampy. Some of Wes and Julia during their childhood. Hazel helped, her incredible photo editing skills giving each of them a historic look, fitting in with the overall vibe of the house.

  “This is…” Julia shakes her head, speechless. Then she flings her arms around me. “Perfect, Londyn.” She pulls back, holding me at arm’s length. “It’s perfect.”

  I laugh. “You’ve only seen the hallway so far. Come on.”

  With a grin, I turn into the living room, their eyes widening as they take in the space. Natural light streams in through the windows, two comfortable couches sitting across from each other. Besides the kitchen, this is probably the most modern room, although I did keep the fireplace, even if it’s purely decorative.

  “Is that the original light fixture?” Wes points to the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

  “It is.” I grin. “It just needed a little TLC.”

  He shakes his head and drapes an arm around my shoulders. “This is incredible. I would have put money on that thing being yet another casualty of the house.”

  “Well, you underestimate my skills, Mr. Bradford.” I pinch my lips together. “Because you’ll see I was able to salvage a lot of this home’s history. Including my second favorite thing about this house.” I walk toward the doors leading from the living room and into the dining room. “The pocket doors.” I slide them open and bring everyone into the formal dining room.

  Julia walks to the cherrywood table in the center of the room beneath yet another chandelier I managed to restore, her fingers tracing the place settings.

  “Look familiar?” I ask.

  “My grandparents got this china as a wedding gift.” She gingerly picks up one of the pl
ates and flips it over. “December 1955,” she reads the date etched on the back of each of the dishes.

  “I found them in the storage unit,” Wes explains. “Thought it would be nice to have them here.”

  They share a look, Julia’s eyes brimming with tears. It doesn’t matter that they’re not technically related by blood. The love they have for each other is more powerful than any other siblings I’ve met.

  “Give you a piece of Meemaw and Gampy to keep.”

  She wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”

  “Mama,” Imogene says as she tugs on Julia’s shirt. “When do I get to see my room?”

  “Soon, baby,” Julia replies through her tears, wiping her cheeks as she pulls away from Wes.

  “Better get on with the tour then.” I wink at Imogene. “Don’t want to keep you waiting.”

  I show them through the rest of the house, pointing out pieces I was able to save, including the clawfoot tub in the ensuite bathroom of the master bedroom. The house is a mixture of modern amenities and historic charm, thanks to the occasional accent of original door handles, stained glass, or light fixtures.

  “You ready, Imogene?” I ask, stopping in front of the door to the final room of our tour, the one leading to what will be her bedroom whenever she visits.

  “Yes!” She’s practically bursting at the seams.

  “Here you go.” I pause before turning the knob, excited to not only see her reaction, but also Julia’s and Wes’. I never shared my plans for this room. It was something I wanted to do for them. And Imogene. My way of thanking them for welcoming me into their family. For giving me a place to call home.

  “Oh, Londyn…,” Julia exhales, walking over the threshold.

  “Is this really my room?” Imogene squeals, her frantic gaze darting everywhere, starting at the five-foot-tall dollhouse by the far wall, shifting to the reading nook in the corner, stopping at the luxurious bed in the center, sheer curtains hanging from the ceiling draping around it.

  “Do you like it?” I crouch down to her level.