Safe Space (Book 1)

by Tiffany Patterson

  “What you got against my man Cole?” I asked, mock offense in my voice.

  She giggled and my gut clenched. “He’s boring.”

  “Ahh, man, not you too. You know he went platinum with no features, right?”

  She rolled her eyes. “So says his fan club.”

  “Whatever, man. Cole is cool,” I defended.

  “If you say so.”

  “And I do.” I pressed a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. I don’t know if she’d noticed how easily our bodies had fallen in sync with one another. Despite our height difference, she felt perfect in my arms as our bodies moved as one, first to Janet and then Lauryn Hill and D’Angelo’s “Nothing Even Matters.” I looked down at her half-lidded gaze as she began humming to the song. I pulled her in closer, not wanting even a slight bit of space between us.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re not going to ask me about Anne Marie, are you?”

  I squinted, confused, until I remembered whom she was talking about. “No, it’s not about her.” I had thought about Chanel’s client and her son since that night, but more concerning whether or not Chanel was out late at night rescuing any more clients. I’d wanted to call her while I was away, but didn’t have her number. I made a mental note to remedy that before the night was over.

  “Okay, you can ask me, then.” She grinned.

  “How come you don’t work at your father’s law firm? I mean, I’m sure he’d be willing to start a family law branch to his practice, or you could work with his existing clientele.” While Elliott and Jason’s main practice was entertainment and contract law, I knew they handled a lot of clients who were also involved in divorces, custody battles, child support hearings, and all of that.

  Chanel scoffed and turned her head, to avoid looking at me. “My father wouldn’t want me to work for him.”

  I furrowed my brow, doubtful. “What makes you think that? He was practically salivating when Jay finished law school. He couldn’t wait for him to start at the firm.”

  She shook her head. “He’d been grooming Jason to work at the firm since he was born, practically. Me? I was supposed to be a housewife like my mother.” Something heavy was in her voice.

  “But once you started law school, I’m sure he had a change of heart, right?”

  Her eyes snapped back to mine. “He didn’t even pay my law school tuition.”

  I was stunned. Stopping our dance, I guided her toward the couch and onto my lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Are you serious?”

  “Yup. He was willing to pay for undergrad, but that was it, he told me. He’d wanted me to find my future husband in college, and once married, he hoped I wouldn’t need to work.”

  Her tone was laced with bitterness.

  “So, how did you pay for law school?”

  “Like ninety percent of other law students. Loans.”

  “Damn.”

  “Tell me about it. By the time I graduated, I’d turned twenty-five and had access to my trust fund, so I used some of it to pay off my debt.”

  I sat back, realizing her hand had been stroking the back of my head and neck. She avoided eye contact, but I saw that same forlorn expression she’d worn earlier at the gala. I hated that look on her face for some reason, and wanted to change it, so without much thought, I used my hand, tilting her head by the chin toward me, and brought her lips down to mine.

  I licked the seam of her lips until they opened for me and then I took advantage, plunging my tongue into her mouth. The more I kissed her, the more I wanted to kiss and touch her. Her grip at the back of my neck tightened, pulling me in deeper, and that shit got me even more aroused. I moved my hand up her thigh, which was free of any stockings, and came in contact with the feel of her silk panties. When she widened her legs ever so slightly, any hesitation on my part was gone. I swiftly moved her panties to the side and used my fingers to begin massaging her pussy.

  She moaned into my mouth, urging me on. I used one finger, then two, spreading her wetness all over, until I reached her clit. When I began massaging her hard button, she broke free of my lips and threw her head back, biting her lower lip. The look of dazed passion on her face spurred me on, and I left her clit to insert one of my fingers inside her, but that wasn’t nearly enough. After inserting a second finger, I began fucking her just the way my rock-hard dick wanted. The whimpers and moans coming from her were the sexiest things I’d ever heard in my life, and I took her mouth again as I shifted our bodies, so that she was lying back on the couch, and I was on top. I never broke contact with her pussy, continuing to stroke her.

  “Xavier,” she called around a shuddering breath.

  “Continue saying my name, just like that,” I demanded at the same time I curled both fingers inside her, making contact with her G-spot.

  “Hssss!” She hissed and clamped her thighs around my hand as her orgasm took over.

  I swallowed all of her moans down, wanting to consume every part of her. I didn’t remove my fingers until her very last shudder, and her breathing returned to normal. I was hard as hell, but I wouldn’t take it further than we’d already gone. Shit, it hadn’t been my intention to take it there with Chanel so soon, but between her thighs poking out from that damn dress and that despondent look on her face, I couldn’t help but to try and take it away.

  “Where’re you going?” her drowsy voice questioned.

  “I’ll be right back.” I headed to my downstairs half-bathroom, grabbing a warm cloth after washing my hands. Coming back, I entered the room as Chanel watched me through hooded eyes. I kneeled down by the couch she was still sprawled out on, gently wiping her inner thighs. Next, I removed her shoes and climbed back on the couch, pulling her into my arms. Within minutes, we were both asleep.

  Chapter Seven

  Chanel

  “I knew your fast ass wouldn’t be able to stay away from him for too long,” Gabby laughed into the phone. I laughed with her as I told my tale of what had gone down Friday night.

  The evening had ended very differently than I’d expected. When I woke up Saturday morning, it was to a smiling Xavier, and somehow we’d ended up in his bedroom instead of the entertainment room where we’d fallen asleep. I still had on the dress I’d worn to the gala, but Xavier had changed into a pair of boxer briefs. It took everything in me not to jump him as he smirked at me with that damn dimple playing at his cheek.

  He insisted on making breakfast after I turned down his offer to go out to one of his restaurants. It was nothing fancy, a couple of spinach, mushroom and goat cheese omelets with some toast and fruit, but I felt cared for the way he served me, sitting at the counter in his huge kitchen. He’d reassured me that we wouldn’t be interrupted by his mother again. He said she usually went to her gym for spin class on Saturday mornings, and her popping into the main house wasn’t a regular occurrence. I side-eyed him at that, after what’d happened the previous night. I didn’t need to be sitting in the kitchen wearing the same clothes I’d had on the previous night while his mother walked in on us again.

  But he’d been right. Breakfast had gone smoothly, and I started to feel as if spending the whole weekend with him wouldn’t have been a bad idea.

  That’s when I knew it was time to get the hell out of there.

  After breakfast, I insisted Xavier take me home. Luckily, he had work to tend to later that afternoon, and didn’t insist on me staying.

  “So, Saturday was the last time you heard from him?” she asked.

  “Yup. He tried yet again at asking me on a date, which I declined.” I frowned when I heard Gabby sucking her teeth on the other end. “Anyway,” I continued. “He had some meetings he needed to attend.”

  “Working on a Saturday? Hm, sounds like a workaholic, just like you,” she commented.

  “I’m not a damn workaholic,” I argued.

  “Chh, try that lie with someone who doesn’t know you.”

  “You’re one to
talk. Which one of us sees clients up until damn near ten o’clock at night and works all weekend?”

  She giggled a bit. “I never said I wasn’t a workaholic,” she admitted. “It’s the price we pay for loving what we do.”

  “Speaking of which…”

  “Don’t start,” she countered before I could even get my sentence out.

  “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

  “But I know you, and you’re about to ask about my plans to open the spa, and if I’ve looked at the spaces for rent you’ve sent me. I haven’t had time, so stop asking.”

  I was just about to comment on her hesitance at getting her dream off the ground when there was a knock on my door. I looked up to see Liza with a flower delivery man standing behind her with a beautiful bouquet of white flowers.

  “C-come in,” I stuttered.

  “Chanel, these just came for you,” Liza explained.

  “Thank you.”

  The delivery man walked up to my desk and placed the bouquet in front of me. Up close, I could see the flowers were a mix of white Asiatic lilies, white roses, and blue mini carnations held together by a dark blue glass vase. It was large and beautiful.

  “Card’s right here,” the delivery man pointed out.

  “Thank you. Wait,” I called as Liza turned to leave. “Let me grab my wallet.”

  “No, thank you, Miss. The tip has already been taken care of,” he grinned before leaving.

  “Hello? Chanel?” Gabby called through the phone line.

  “I just got a bouquet of flowers delivered.” It wasn’t uncommon to have flowers delivered. Plenty of clients had sent me bouquets once their divorces were settled. But, looking at this beautiful bouquet in front of me, I suspected this wasn’t from a client.

  “Did you read the card?”

  I spotted the card that was held in place by a little plastic holder in the center. Plucking it out, I pulled it from the envelope.

  Thank you for a wonderful Friday evening and Saturday morning. Hope these flowers find you well. FYI—I’m not counting Friday as our second date. You still owe me one.

  - X

  “Ohhhh, girl. You’re in trouble,” Gabby rasped in a sing-song voice.

  I bit my lower lip to keep the mile-wide grin off my face. “It was just a bouquet,” I countered.

  “Mm-hmm, okay. You gonna call to thank him?”

  “I-I don’t have his number.” I felt discouraged. I’d never asked for his number, and he’d never asked for mine. I could call Jason and ask him for it, but that’d arouse too much suspicion, and I didn’t need my brother in my business.

  “I’m betting that man of yours will find a way to pop up sooner or later.”

  “He’s not my man.”

  Gabby simply laughed. “Okay, girl. I gotta go. Talk to you later,” she said, laughter still in her voice as she hung up.

  I frowned as I glared at the phone. One little lunch and a Friday evening followed by a bouquet delivery was far from enough to call someone my man. We hadn’t even been on a proper date! And we wouldn’t, because I didn’t date. Friday night had just been two single and grown adults hanging out. Sometimes one thing led to another. No big deal.

  I did my best to focus back on work. I had some meetings and a very important deposition I needed to get to that afternoon. I didn’t have time to get all googly-eyed because a man had sent me flowers. Yet, even as I told myself that, I could hear my inner voice laughing at me, telling me this thing with Xavier wasn’t about to go away anytime soon.

  ****

  Did you like the flowers?

  I read the text message as I walked back to my office after escorting one of my clients out after a meeting. The message had come in about thirty minutes ago, but because I’d been in a meeting, I was just getting to look at my phone. I squinted when I saw the contact was listed under “X.”

  Xavier? I responded.

  Who else?

  How did you get your number in my phone? I waited for his response as I paced back and forth in my office. I’d been sitting for too long and needed to move my legs as I thought about how I was going to handle this case.

  I plugged my number in while you slept Friday night. Or was it Saturday morning? Either/or. You know, you should have a lock on your phone.

  Is that right? I questioned.

  Hell yeah, any random ass dude could pick up your phone and put their number in while you’re sleeping at his house.

  Well, I don’t make it a habit of sleeping at ‘random ass dude’s’ houses.

  Oh, so just mine? Good to know.

  I could picture the cocky smirk he wore on his face as he typed that last text message.

  You never answered my question.

  I paused, wondering what the question was. Oh! The flowers.

  Yes, they were beautiful. Thank you.

  Glad you liked them. I meant what I said on the card too.

  What was that?

  Friday wasn’t our second date.

  Of course not, because we never had a FIRST date.

  Lol. You’re stubborn as hell. Anyway, I’d like to take you on our SECOND date when I get back.

  Get back?

  I have another business trip. I leave late tonight, and I’ll be gone for about two weeks.

  My heart plummeted hearing he was going to be away for so long. He’d just gotten back. Of course, I didn’t share my actual feelings with him. Maybe two weeks without seeing or hearing from him would allow me to get out from underneath the feelings I seemed to be developing. I didn’t like the way I was feeling for him at all. It’d been years since I’d had any real feelings for a man, and I was not looking to indulge anytime soon.

  Have a safe and productive trip.

  I intentionally left out any response about going out with him.

  I’ll give you a call in a couple of days.

  Thanks again for the flowers.

  His response to that was a winking eye emoji, and for some reason that sent a little shiver down my spine. I placed my phone on my desk and forced myself to refocus on work. I had a lot to do, and it looked like I wouldn’t be leaving my office before seven o’clock that evening.

  Even with work on my mind, I found my eyes often straying from the papers on my desk to the bouquet in the corner.

  ****

  Xavier

  “Leaving again so soon?” My mother questioned as she stood in the doorway of my bedroom.

  “Yup. You know how it is. I’ve gotta check on the restaurants down in Miami and then go back to D.C. the following week.” I owned two restaurants in Miami and was overseeing the opening of a lounge in D.C; then I had a couple of charity events I planned on attending in New York.

  “I do, but sometimes I think you work too hard.”

  I turned to face my mother. She stood about five-seven, coming only to my chest. I’d inherited my rich, dark skin from her, along with my one dimple. Her eyes were a few shades lighter than mine, and her hair, which she kept natural, was in a high puff with streaks of gray. By all accounts, my mother was beautiful. At fifty-six, she was the very definition of “black don’t crack.”

  She’d been a young college student doing her thing and majoring in psychology when she got pregnant. My father was the campus hotshot athlete who’d had a roster of women, so he didn’t take too kindly to one of his women coming up pregnant. He’d dropped my mother like a bad habit and had barely looked back. It was only until I got a little older did he show up and even then he could’ve stayed where the hell he was. Despite that, my mother never thought about not having me, she’d told me. Seeing her dreams of pursuing a Ph.D. in psychology vanquish, she opted to change to the degree that would be most beneficial to her once she graduated undergrad. Having always been good with numbers, she opted for accounting and got a job at one of the top accounting firm right out of college. Eventually, when I was about ten, she began pursuing an M.B.A., thanks in part because her firm paid for it. It took a few years betw
een going part-time, working full-time, and raising me, but she got her degree and soon after, made partner. My mother knew all about working hard, and she’d raised me to be the same way.

  “Didn’t you raise me to work hard for what I want in life?”

  She gave me a don’t get cute with me look, which caused my grin to widen. “I did. But I also want you to enjoy life. You don’t have the responsibilities I had at your age.”

  “I’m enjoying life, Ma. I promise,” I said, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

  “You’d better be. You make too much money not to enjoy it.”

  “Well, if my favorite girl would let me splurge on her a little more often, I could enjoy it a little more.” I raised an eyebrow accusingly.

  “Boy,” she waved her hand. “I make more than enough money to splurge on myself.”

  “You wouldn’t have to if you’d just retire or, better yet, come work for me, part-time. I’d double the salary you’re making now.” I was dead serious too. My mother made well into six figures at her current job, but I had no problem doubling it if she were to retire right then or come work for me on a part-time basis.

  “And do what with all my free time? It would be a better deal if I had some grandbabies I could play with.”

  “Here we go.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Don’t ‘here we go’ me. I’m just saying, I’m getting up there in age, and it’d be nice to have some grandchildren to spoil rotten.”

  “See, that’s why you don’t need any grandchildren. How’re you gonna spoil my kids rotten?”

  Her eyes got wide with excitement. “Oh, I’d spoil the mess out of my grandbabies and then send ’em back home to you to deal with their tantrums.”

  We both laughed.

  “That’s messed up, Ma.”

  “It’s what grandmothers do,” she shrugged. “So….speaking of grandchildren...”

  Shit! I knew this would come up eventually.

  “Chanel is looking lovely these days.” Her voice had taken on a weird note.

  “She is,” I agreed.