Safe Space (Book 1)

by Tiffany Patterson

  “Just what I said. It was a one-time thing, and I didn’t want to do the whole awkward-after-one-night-stand thing, so I left before Xavier woke up.”

  She sucked her teeth. “I swear, you’re exasperating sometimes. You could’ve at least made the man feed you before hightailing it out of there.”

  I closed my eyes at that. He fed me, all right. All night long. I sighed and swallowed down those emotions.

  “Anyway, let’s talk about your ass ditching me Friday night for your little one-night-stand. Who was that? Brandon?”

  “Yeah, that was him. And I didn’t ditch you. I asked Xavier to give you a ride home, which he happily agreed to. And from the way your ass is sounding, he gave you a ride all right.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Whatever, Gabby. How did you know I wanted him to give me a ride home? Or, that he wouldn’t, I don’t know, attack me or something? We come together, we leave together, right? What happened to that?” I added, trying to guilt her.

  “One, I know you wanted that man to give you a ride home,” she giggled. “Two, he’s known your family for more than twenty years, he wasn’t about to attack you, not without your permission, which I already established in my first point, he had. Third, we’re not children. I knew you’d be all right,” she finished.

  I grunted at that. “You didn’t know,” I mumbled, feeling as if I’d been chastised.

  She sighed. “I wish you would drop this shit. You haven’t seriously dated in years. Not since—”

  “No, don’t mention his name.” I felt the anger rising in my voice as I anticipated whose name she was about to bring up.

  “I’m not. Trust me; I’m not bringing him up. I’m just saying, it’s been years since you’ve even dated. I know what happened to you was—”

  “Gabby, I don’t want to discuss this. I just don’t want to date right now, okay?” I almost believed the words myself.

  “I swear,” she sighed again. “Okay, okay. But just tell me one thing.” I heard the way her tone shifted to something mischievous, and I side-eyed the phone in my hand.

  “What?” I asked skeptically.

  “On a scale of Whitney Houston’s character in Waiting to Exhale when she fucked grunting animal dude to when she fucked married dude, how good was the sex?”

  I shook my head at her, remembering those very scenes she referenced. The one where poor Whitney’s character was forced to endure that lackluster ass sex, to the toe-curling, spine-tingling, make-you-tell-a-married-man-to-leave-his-wife-and-child, bad decisions-induced sex.

  “It was Nia Long in Love Jones after the first time Lorenz Tate put it on her,” I sighed, closing my eyes.

  “His dick spoke to you?”

  “Yeah.” My voice sounded breathless.

  “Oh, girl. You’re in goddamn trouble. I gotta go. Bye.”

  “Bye,” I answered, my mind still on the fact that I might indeed, be in trouble.

  ****

  Xavier

  Her ass is in trouble, I thought angrily as I stepped off the elevator that led to her law firm. I knew her ass would try to sneak out the next morning. I knew it, but after fucking damn near all night and well into the morning, I thought I’d be the first one up. Oh, I was sorely mistaken. And knowing she ignored my calls over the weekend pissed me off even more. She was lucky I’d had a work emergency at one of my restaurants over the weekend, which stopped me from handling that ass like I wanted to. But, this morning she would see me.

  “Chanel Richards, please?” I questioned the young receptionist at the front of the huge outer office. Jay had told me how she used her mother’s maiden name at work. “Tell her Xavier Grant is on his way to see her,” I stated, strolling off down the hall, looking for the door labeled with her name on it. It was still early Monday morning, and many of the attorneys were just coming in, but I had a feeling Chanel was always the first in the office. I looked over my shoulder when I heard the click-clack of heels along the linoleum floor.

  “Sir, I, uh, I don’t believe Ms. Richards had any appointments this early in the day.” The receptionist was right behind me. If I weren't so pissed off, I’d have felt bad for possibly getting this woman in trouble, but I was this pissed off, so I didn’t.

  I finally stopped when I read the “Chanel Richards, Esq.” placard outside the corner office. Her door was open, and it looked as if she was just getting off a phone call as she placed her cell phone down on her desk.

  “So, your phone does work?”

  She jumped a little in her chair when she heard my tone laced with anger.

  “Chanel, I’m sorry,” said the receptionist. “I tried to tell him you didn’t take visitors without an appointment.”

  Those brown eyes shot over to the woman behind me and softened a bit.

  “It’s okay, Liza,” she answered, standing. “Please hold my calls.” She smoothed down the edges of her forest green skirt that stopped an inch below the knee. The skirt was paired with a black sleeveless top.

  My groin stirred as I took in the outline of her thighs and hips in the outfit. I hadn’t had nearly enough of that body in just one night. Another fact that served to piss me off.

  “It seems the men in my life have a tendency to scare the hell out of my poor receptionist,” she mumbled just loudly enough for me to hear.

  I raised an eyebrow. “By ‘men in your life,’ I hope you mean another co-worker and me. And not another man you fucked all night and then ditched while he slept.”

  Her eyes practically doubled in size at my words, and I heard a gasp behind me, but didn’t turn to see who’d overheard ‘cause I didn’t give a fuck. Chanel scurried around her desk, giving me a withering look as she pushed past me to close her office door. For my part, I strolled past her desk to stare out of the floor-to-ceiling window that gave a nice view of downtown.

  “Seriously, Xavier?” she hissed from behind me.

  Throwing my hands in the pockets of my trousers, I slowly pivoted and returned her icy glare with one of my own.

  “I would’ve said that over the phone instead of in your office, but someone’s not answering their phone. Not for me, at least,” I finished, glancing at the cell phone lying on her desk.

  She crossed her arms under her breasts. The same breasts I’d had my mouth all over Friday night. And would taste again. Soon.

  “Xavier.” She paused.

  I stood, legs apart, waiting for what was to come out of her mouth next.

  “Look, I’m sorry for leaving like that. I just, well, I didn’t want to do the awkward one-night-stand thing the next morning.”

  My face scrunched in confusion. “One-night stand?” This damned woman. “So, you’re still playing this bullshit ass game, huh? Don’t give me that face,” I stepped closer to her, crowding her space. “We both know goddamn well that ain’t why you left, and nothing happening between us is just a one-night stand type of thing.”

  Her face tightened. “How’re you going to tell me why I left?”

  “The same way I just did. You ran out like a damn scared ass kid because, for some reason, you are scared. Of what? I don’t know because you obviously won’t tell me. Hell, I don’t even think you know your damn self. But you need to get over it.” I moved in even closer, trapping her between her desk and my body.

  “I’m not scared,” she retorted.

  “Uh-huh. Just like you said you were ready for me that first time, and you so clearly weren’t.” I smirked as her eyes bulged again. Slowly, her expression turned into a scowl.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “I know,” I stated, grabbing her chin between my thumb and forefinger. Before she could make a saucy comeback, I dipped my head, taking her lips into the same type of kiss I’d been looking forward to waking her up with this past weekend. I didn’t give a damn we were in the middle of her office; I wanted to feel those lips again. Apparently, she’d forgotten where we were too, because within seconds I felt her hands around my arms, pulling me in
as our tongues dueled. But I didn’t want to get too carried away, so with all the strength I had in me, I pulled back, taking her bottom lip with me until it plopped out from between my teeth.

  “Saturday night. Your father’s. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

  “Wh-what?” The confused look on her face made me smile.

  “Majorie invited us.”

  “Us?”

  I gave a half-grin at the incredulous look she gave me.

  “Six-thirty.” I pressed a quick kiss to the tip of her nose. “Oh, and you forgot these at my place.” I reached my hand out of my pocket, tossing her panties onto her desk before sauntering out.

  Just as I was closing her office door behind me did I hear her gasp. I chuckled as I continued down the hall.

  ****

  Chanel

  This man just dropped my goddamn panties on my office desk!

  I picked up my phone and texted Gabby once I caught my breath. Not only had Xavier’s kiss and the announcement of Majorie’s invitation left me speechless, but his damn nerve to drop my panties—on my desk—left me stunned.

  Girl, WHAT? Who? Gabby texted me in response.

  You know who!

  So...you left your drawers over that man’s house, and he was kind enough to drop them off to you at work first thing Monday morning??

  I knew she was over there laughing her ass off. If I could reach out and touch…

  It wasn’t “kind.” It was an asshole move! AND he had the nerve to say that “we” were invited over to my father’s for dinner on Saturday.

  Oh, so he’s getting invited to the family dinners already? Wow, just thirty minutes ago you weren’t ready to date.

  I was going to kill her. As soon as I saw her.

  Gabrielle!

  Okay, okay. Calm down. You’re just going to dinner with your family—a family he already knows well. No big deal and it was nice of him to return your panties to you. LMAO!

  BYE!

  I tossed my phone aside and rubbed my forehead as I began to pace my office. First of all, why would Marjorie, of all people, think to invite Xavier and me to a family dinner? Who the hell told her about us? I mean, there was no us, but still, how would she know that there was a potential “us”? Was there a potential “us”?

  Oh, hell! Now I was giving myself a headache with all this ruminating and pacing, and I had too much of a busy day to stop and think about any relationship shit. See, this was exactly why I didn’t need to date. It made me lose focus. I had three clients I had meetings with that day and a deposition I needed to be across town for later that afternoon. I didn’t have time to stop and contemplate Xavier Grant.

  I paused in front of my desk, tilting my head toward the ceiling and closing my eyes. Memories of that kiss just minutes ago floated to mind and sent warm currents through my entire body. Then, memories of Friday night came flooding back, and I began to rub the back of my neck, feeling flustered and hot.

  “Shit!” I gasped when someone knocked on my door, bringing me out of my reverie. “Yes, come in,” I answered.

  “Chanel, Ms. Harding is here to see you,” Liza answered.

  “Great, give me about five minutes before you send her in.”

  She nodded and closed the door behind her. I blinked and moved back behind my desk, trying to refocus on everything I had to do that day. I definitely didn’t have time to think about Xavier Grant. My head knew I needed to forget about him and get down to business. I just wished my body would follow suit.

  Chapter Eleven

  Chanel

  “You look beautiful.”

  I hated the way his words made little tingles of heat flood my belly. Hated even more that the heated look he was giving me in my off-shoulder, purple, yellow and pink Ankara dress was the exact look I was anticipating when I’d chosen this outfit. But what I disliked most was the way the white Polo shirt and dark black shorts hung on his cut-up frame made me want to say fuck this dinner and pull him in my condo, down the hall, and into my bedroom.

  “You look great too,” I answered, detesting the way my voice sounded. I’d tried a few times to get out of that damn dinner. When Xavier had made it clear he wasn’t going for that, I gave Marjorie a call to try and weasel information out of her as to whether she’d intended to invite Xavier and me, like together. As it turned out, my sweet, loving, beautiful sister-in-law dropped a hint that there was something going on between Xavier and me. I had a few words saved up for Tori when I saw her that night.

  “Thank you,” I told Xavier as he casually handed me a beautiful bouquet of pink and orange buttercup flowers. They were gorgeous. “You didn’t need to get me flowers. Come in while I put these in water.” I motioned with my head for him to enter, and shut the door behind him. “Did you want anything to drink?” I asked, remembering the manners my mother had drilled into me as a young child.

  “I’m fine. Go put your flowers in water.”

  I turned and headed the short distance to my kitchen, grabbing a vase from under my sink as I went and unwrapping the paper from the bouquet. I became so distracted snipping the ends of the stems, I barely noticed Xavier was behind me.

  “Oh!” I jumped as he reached over my shoulder, popping one of the heads of the buttercups off.

  “Turn around,” his deep voice ordered.

  When I did, there was barely an inch of space between our bodies. He reached down and tucked the flower behind my ear.

  “Perfect,” he grinned, and those shiny white, perfect teeth and smooth skin were my undoings. When I felt like I was sinking, he reached down, cupping me at the hips, pulling me into him for a kiss.

  As usual, when our lips met, I lost all of me in him. I sighed deeply into his mouth, wishing I could bottle this exact feeling up and keep it with me on lonely nights. I felt something hard pressing against my abdomen and groaned, knowing I wasn’t the only one who was so affected by the kiss. When I felt as if I couldn’t wait for him to rip my dress off, he pulled back. His eyes had gone a shade darker, and the look he was giving me told me he was as far gone as I was.

  “Later,” he breathed, stepping back. “Right now I have a family dinner to get you to.”

  I blinked, trying to remember where the hell I was. When his words finally sank in, I nodded and handed him a napkin from my counter. “To remove the lip gloss,” I laughed, gesturing to his lips.

  “Finish with those flowers.”

  I did as I was told.

  “You’ve got a nice place here. You’ll have to give me a tour one day,” he stated as we made our way out the door. I grabbed my bag off the table next to the door, and he closed up behind me.

  “Maybe.” I tried to give a noncommittal response, but he just chuckled behind me. I could feel his eyes on me as we strolled down the hallway to the elevator. And I’d be a damned liar if I said it didn’t cause me to add a little sway in my hips.

  “Watch your dress,” he instructed as he helped me into the passenger side of his black BMW.

  “Going low-key today, huh?” I asked once he got into the driver’s seat.

  “A little,” he answered with a cocky grin.

  He checked for traffic and pulled out, watching his muscular arms maneuver the steering wheel. A few moments later, the sounds of Michael Jackson’s “Butterflies” came through, breaking up the silence. I grinned, easing back in my seat, putting my head against the headrest. Despite the sexual tension, I felt at ease next to this man with one of my favorite artists singing in the background. My head began to sway to the beat, and I sang the words under my breath.

  “You like this song?”

  “It’s Michael. How could I not like it?” I answered, and sang along a little louder.

  “You’ve got a nice voice,” he said, looking at me as we came to a stop at a red light.

  I rolled my eyes. “Anyone can sound like they have a nice voice with Michael singing in the background.”

  He shook his head as he laughed. “You’re not on
e of those women who can’t take a compliment, are you?”

  I raised my eyebrow as he hit the gas pedal when the light turned green. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He gave me a sideways glance. “Just what I said. There are some women who can’t take compliments. Always have some snappy comeback when one is given.”

  “Well, maybe if people didn’t spend so much time trying to ‘humble’ women for our perceived cockiness, we wouldn’t do that,” I retorted.

  “And what do you mean by that?”

  “Just what I said. Women are taught from day one to be pretty but not to think or act like we are. We should be smart or beautiful, but pretend we don’t know we’re either of those things because it needs to be left up to some man to remind us. Oh, but don’t get too needy when a man comes along, because then you’re some type of ho, but don’t be too independent either, because then you’re not letting a man be a man.”

  “Damn,” he responded, stopping the car to look at me. I hadn’t even realized we’d reached my father’s place.

  I shrugged.

  “That’s how you feel?”

  “No. That’s what I know. And no, I didn’t read that in some damn Twitter thread or Beyoncé album, although her last two albums were dope,” I pointed out. “My life experience has taught me those things.”

  “Shit. All this because I tried to compliment your singing. I’ll keep my li’l compliments to myself next time.”

  I tried to keep my face neutral, but the play of a smile at the edges of his lips is what got me. I broke out in laughter, swatting his arm. He caught my hand and brought it to his lips, staring me in the eye as he kissed it.

  “Nah, for real. I feel you on that womanist shit.”

  My head shot back.

  “What, you didn’t think a brotha knew the word womanist? Can't I read a li’l Audre Lorde? Now, who’s the one with misconceptions?”