“Wait. Hold up. What you mean, you threw down a challenge?”
“My exact words were ‘Do it’? I, yeah, I don’t even know. In my defense, there was music and a lot of sugar in my system at the time, so I, maybe, no, definitely got caught up in the moment? But it meant nothing.” She barely sounded convincing to her own ears—she could imagine Remi’s I’m not buying this face.
She was still unsure about what had prompted her to drop that not-so-subtle dare. She could’ve pretended the tension wasn’t there. Could have pulled back. Something. Anything but uttering those two words that propelled everything into motion. She wondered what would have happened if that damn timer hadn’t gone off.
“Cherisse.”
“I know.”
“You and Keiran kissed.”
“I know.”
“So, do you plan to kiss him again?”
“No!” Her lapse in judgment wasn’t something she planned to repeat. Ever. There would be no more kissing Keiran. No matter what he’d revealed to her in that studio, it didn’t mean she wanted to get caught up in his charms. Been there, did that with Sean. The door rattling almost made Cherisse drop her phone. Shit, how long had she been in here? “Talk more later, Rems, gotta go.”
She pocketed her phone and opened the door. Keiran was on the other side because her life was basically a joke now. “Good to know you didn’t fall in.” His chin jerked at the toilet, and Cherisse felt her face get hot.
“Fuck off.” Cherisse stepped out, closing the door behind her. Most men were put off by her potty mouth. Not Keiran, apparently, because it only stretched his grin wider.
“Bye-bye, truce.”
She was an adult and refused to get pissed off enough to lose her cool. Not today, Mr. King. “We’re going to keep going. Get this party planned. Not kill each other, and definitely no more kissing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, your cousin’s waiting.”
“You’re not interested in Jerome, so why bother?”
The nerve of this man. “He’s good-looking, funny, and a pediatrician.” She waved three fingers in his face. “Sounds interesting to me.”
“I’m at least two of those things.”
Cherisse rolled her eyes. “You’re not even in the running. Not even a consideration. So, bye.” She walked around him, heading back outside, draping her Sugar Queen cool around her.
“Everything okay?” Jerome asked.
It would be. She needed Keiran back where he belonged, as the guy she tolerated for this wedding, nothing more. The shower planning had forced them together, but there wasn’t anything that said they had to be friends. Being friendly had made working together easier, which was already throwing things out of order. Adding kissing to the mix had tipped the scales so far over, shit was spilling out everywhere. She had to fix that. She didn’t need this added complication in her life.
She mustered up a classic Sugar Queen smile. “Yes, all good.”
Chapter 17
Keiran
WEDDINGS WERE USUALLY fun. Free food, drinks, and enough going on that he didn’t have to be a scintillating conversationalist. With Dale next to him charming everyone they met, Keiran didn’t have to worry about making small talk. Except, Dale had abandoned him to go socialize.
They’d both been invited as a thank you for working on the bride’s album, and it wasn’t like Keiran didn’t know anyone here. He just preferred to get lost in the crowd. A lot of heavy hitters in the music industry were in attendance. Sierra Gale was one of the big-name Trini soca artistes, and she was marrying another major player in the industry, Ricky Simons, a music exec, so the reception was overflowing with the who’s who of the local music scene. Keiran had even spied a few regional and foreign artists mingling. But Dale was the god of small talk. Keiran always hung back.
The sit-down dinner portion of the evening was long over, and the vibe had switched over to party mode. Most people were either getting down on the dance floor or schmoozing. Keiran spied Sierra making her way over to him, the long train of her wedding dress trailing behind her. Moments before, she’d been grinding on her new hubby. He had no idea how she’d managed that in her dress.
“Keiran!” She planted a quick kiss on his cheek, mouth spread wide in a toothy grin. “Did I thank you guys for coming? I can’t even remember.”
“Well, it’s been a busy day, so no worries,” he assured her. The invite had been thanks enough. A good way to get his mind off of Cherisse and the kiss, but that had backfired. Being at this wedding dredged up all sorts of feelings. He’d spied an elaborate cupcake tower when they’d entered the venue, and his thoughts had gone right to Cherisse.
“Boy, you tellin’ me! I’m glad the stress part is over, and I can have some fun!”
“You look like you’re having a time.”
She really did. She was radiant in that dress, cheeks flushed from either her blush or happiness or both. Sierra made a stunning bride, hair in loose curls around her face, brown eyes shining every time she glanced over at her husband.
“Oh, I am, and I have so many people to thank for that. Especially a certain life-saver.” Her eyes searched the crowd. “She’s around somewhere. I called in a cake emergency, and she delivered.” She looked back at him. “I think you two even know each other?”
Keiran stiffened. No. No damn way. The universe wouldn’t be this cruel. But of course, it was. A group of people parted at just that moment, giving Keiran a clear line of sight to the cake table.
She was wearing an orange dress that molded to her curves, hair pulled back in a ponytail, the curled ends bouncing as she nodded along to the music echoing through the venue.
“Oh, there she is!” Sierra went on, waving in Cherisse’s direction as if his entire world wasn’t being upended by Cherisse in that dress. “My cake person had to cancel last minute. Chickenpox, of all things! I remembered Cherisse because Sean was coming, and...wait. Shit.”
That snapped Keiran out of allowing his gaze to trace the outline of Cherisse’s hips in that dress. “Sean. As in, Sean Daley. As in...”
“Her ex. Oh damn. I didn’t think about that.” Sierra was hastily looking around. “I didn’t even consider them bumping into each other. I was in crisis mode, and his name jolted me to remember her, and she was so sweet to do this rush job for me that I told her she could bring a plus-one too, in case she felt uncomfortable being here alone. But she came alone.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
Keiran wasn’t sure of that at all. He had no doubt shit would go down if Sean and Cherisse ran into each other, especially if Sean mentioned that he was working with Keiran. They were keeping that under wraps from everyone, including the press for now, so Keiran felt a smidge less guilty for not telling Cherisse. Getting the album going was a slow process because Sean worked on his own time, but Keiran had been working towards getting at least a teaser sample of the track out there to create some buzz.
“I’m gonna say hi, real quick,” he told Sierra, pasting on a smile that he hoped looked genuine enough as he made his way over to her. “Hi.” He pulled out his most charming smile, which wasn’t reciprocated. Cherisse kept blinking at him as if that would make him disappear. Her open body language from before vanished.
Cherisse tugged on her ponytail, wrapping the ends around her index finger as she frowned at him. “Are you here to make trouble?”
“Why would I do that? Sierra invited Dale and me. We worked on her album. Why do you always think I’m crashing something just because we end up in the same place?”
“I didn’t say you crashed.” Cherisse fiddled with the cupcake stand, moving the remaining cupcakes around, so they closed up the spaces left by cakes that had already been taken by guests. She kept at it even after all the spaces were filled. Anything to not look at him, it seemed.
He snatched up the cupcake she was pushing around, and finally, her head jerked up. She yanked the cupcake from his hand and plunked it back on the cupcake tower. This was getting
ridiculous.
“Where’s Jerome? Not as interesting as you’d thought?” He sounded like a jealous fool, which he had zero reason to be, especially knowing Jerome had no real interest in Cherisse, and just because they kissed, he had no claims on her. Cherisse’s gaze sharpened like a predator scenting a weakness in her prey’s armor. Shit. Distract, distract, distract. “You can’t keep ignoring this. We’ve talked around it all week.”
“Sierra’s request was last-minute, so I didn’t extend my plus-one to anyone. Also, we have more important things to discuss than that.”
He couldn’t agree more. Like the way she’d gripped his head to deepen that kiss, that said she wasn’t shy about going after what she wanted. And she had wanted to turn up the heat level. He didn’t doubt that for a second. They could definitely discuss that. His eyes dropped to her glossy lips, remembering the feel of them against his.
“Stop.” Her voice sounded strangled, pleading. He was playing with fire here, but he took his time sliding his eyes back up to meet hers. “Stop looking at me like...like you...” She swallowed, fiddled with the cloth that covered the cake table.
“Like what, Cherisse?” he whispered.
Her chest rose and fell. “Like you’re thinking about it. Like you want to kiss me. Now. Again.”
He leaned in. “I am, and I do. Seems you want to, as well.”
She shook her head, jaw tight, eyes suddenly ablaze. Like she was telling him he wasn’t going to get to her with his blunt confessions. Like she wasn’t having any of his shit. This Cherisse—the one who wasn’t all smiles and calm, modulated friendly tones, the one who looked like she was thinking about kicking his ass—really got him going. He relished sparring with her.
“Please, you couldn’t handle me kissing you again. You think I’m all shook up by that kiss? Well, lemme tell you something, Mr. King, you’d be weak if I really put my back into a kiss.”
“Then, do it.” He tossed her words right back at her, and what he’d realized about Cherisse was she had a competitive side, and maybe he’d be damned for always pushing those buttons to get her to that point, but he had zero regrets.
Her nostrils flared, and Keiran couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “You are a piece of work,” she said. Definitely not a compliment.
“Hey, I’m not the one out here making outlandish claims,” he shrugged and secretly enjoyed the moment Cherisse snapped, grabbed his arm, and dragged him away from the chatter and music.
He wasn’t prepared for being pressed to a wall in the dimly-lit corridor that led to the bathrooms. Not an ideal place for making out, but if Cherisse didn’t care, why should he? Her lip gloss tasted like strawberries, and her tongue tasted like wine.
She tugged at his bottom lip and pressed her body against his. Shit, she’d definitely be able to tell he was hard. These slacks weren’t hiding a thing, but Cherisse didn’t seem put off by his erection. In fact, sweet God, her hips mimicked the thrust of her tongue against his, and Keiran’s hand dipped to her ass. Cherisse arched into his touch, her moans and his steady pants the perfect soundtrack to this moment.
She pulled away too soon, the drag of her teeth on his bottom lip wrenching all the curses he knew from his mouth. She pressed a hand to his chest and said, “Point made.” She gestured to his mouth. “Might want to wipe that off. It isn’t quite your shade.”
God damn. He wiped at his mouth. It was hard to follow her after that, but he refused to remain slumped against this wall, heart racing. The tiny smirk she threw over her shoulder was enough to send him up in flames. But he managed—on slightly wobbly legs—to walk back into the main hall, eyes glued to her swaying hips until he drew up next to her, stopping her forward motion with a gentle hand on her wrist. He needed a drink, preferably water, so he could douse his entire body.
She turned, not dislodging his hand yet, allowing him to keep touching her. To keep drinking her in. She’d pull away soon enough. The guests were occupied on the dance floor, but Cherisse was too aware of public perception to let this go on for too long.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” she teased.
He found words from somewhere. “If you’re calling yourself a cat, then yeah. I’ll say so.”
One beat, then two. Back to silent stares and racing pulses, he supposed. Or was the beating pulse just him? He couldn’t quite tell if Cherisse was as off-balance as he was.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” The deep, mocking, familiar voice was like a splash of cold water on Keiran’s face. They both turned to face Sean Daley. Well, fuck.
Chapter 18
Cherisse
CHERISSE KNEW SOMEDAY the sliver of impulsiveness that lurked deep down inside of her would come back to bite her in the ass. She usually liked order, some measure of organization in her life, but her damn rebellious streak was always waiting, ready to drive her to do things she knew she shouldn’t.
Case in point: Sean Daley. She’d been warned about him the moment they’d started dating. Cherisse had brushed off the concerns. She’d heard them all. Sean was a good-looking light-skinned black man in the music business, so of course, he’d been pegged as a playboy with women on the side.
Cherisse had rolled her eyes, ignoring her mother’s rants about, “Dem redmen and dem feel they too nice and yuh cyah trust dem.”
Cherisse had seen women try to be all up under him while they’d been dating, but she’d never thought for one moment he was a cheater just because of his looks. That was ridiculous stereotyping, so she’d ignored the warnings.
Joke was on her, though. Sean had been playing her.
He looked the same. Same curls, same bright grin, same square, clean-shaven jaw, perfect for punching. She braced herself before meeting his gaze, unsure of what her reaction would be, wondered if there would be a hint of regret there, in spite of all he’d done to her. They’d been good together, or at least so she’d thought. There was nostalgia rearing up and trying to smother her. She just felt indifferent to his smiling ass and hoped like hell he couldn’t tell she’d just been kissing the shit out of the man next to her.
Which she blamed entirely on that streak of rebellion. She calmly removed her wrist from Keiran’s hand. No jerking or pulling away guiltily to signal to Sean that this wasn’t something she wanted to draw attention to.
“Sean.” Good. Yes. Maintain that calm, even tone, layered with a subtle unspoken, “oh, it’s you.”
Sean thrived off of attention—it fueled him. He fed off a hyped crowd when he got on the stage. The more excited the crowd, the more energy he exuded. He was a great performer, engaging. Still an asshole, though.
“Looking nice and rosy,” Sean said, smile reaching leering levels.
Cherisse didn’t need to be friends with her exes, especially one who’d shown himself to be a lying, cheating dirtbag. Regardless, she wasn’t about to make a scene either.
“When you’re loving life, it shows, I guess.” She smiled back.
“More like loving up on some cake,” Sean chuckled, and Cherisse felt Keiran shift next to her.
The thrill of having rocked Keiran’s world with that kiss evaporated. Her smile faltered. She’d loved how she looked in this dress when she’d put it on. Yeah, it showed off every bit of thigh and ass, but it had made her feel powerful, sexy. Dangerous curves ahead and all that. Now, Sean’s words just made her feel too aware of the bit of weight that had settled on her hips after their breakup that hadn’t quite left. It shouldn’t matter what he said, but it flashed her back to her insecurities about having the public eye trained on her when they’d dated, and she’d been critiqued for everything.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Keiran growled.
Sean’s head swung his way, looking him up and down. “Just kidding around with an old friend, don’t see how that’s your business.”
“Friend?” Keiran scoffed. “You’re not friends. Pretty sure your joke would still be shitty even if you’d been friends.”
&nbs
p; “It’s fine.” Her voice sounded small.
God, she hated that. So much for Sean not affecting her. And it wasn’t fine. She should tell his ass off, but she was too aware of the other guests. Too aware of the last time she’d melted down over his ass. Too aware of her mother’s voice warning about appearances and causing a scene. Granted, she’d had a right to get pissed off, but the gossip after? She could have done without. So, she’d been hyperaware ever since then about not getting caught up in bacchanal. She should just walk away.
“It’s not fine! This asshole doesn’t get talk to you like that.” Keiran’s voice drew looks. Awesome. More gossip fodder.
“So, you her bodyguard now?” Sean moved into Keiran’s space, their chests almost touching. “You’ve been holding out on us, Keiran. That why you’ve been acting like a little bitch all this time? Didn’t you just make some shitty joke about her not too long ago?”
Cherisse frowned. What did Sean mean about Keiran acting like a bitch? It made no sense. Keiran’s jaw clenched, and his hand landed on Sean’s chest and shoved him back. “Not someone who got time to deal with your punk ass.”
Shit. She’d never seen Keiran like this. Lips twisted, stance broadcasting he was ready to rumble if needed. This wouldn’t end well.
“Listen, it’s fine. Just leave it—” she tried, but neither of them was paying her any attention now.
“You put your fucking hands on me, man?” Sean said loudly. “Daddy dearest isn’t going to like that.” Heads turned their way, murmurs growing louder. Wouldn’t be long before someone started recording all this on their phone. None of them needed this to escalate into them becoming some social media meme.
“Apologize, and we’re good,” Keiran snarled.
“Nah, is a joke. Relax, hoss.” Sean brushed Keiran off and turned to Cherisse. “Might wanna tell your guard dog to stand down...what the fuck!”
Keiran had a fistful of Sean’s shirt, which prompted Sean to shove Keiran back into the cake table. Shit! The cupcakes toppled off of the tower, rolling across the table, some falling right off the edge to the floor, as Keiran’s back slammed into it. Hard.
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