“Sure, I guess that’s okay. My team’s up next,” Kayla said and stood.
She took off the denim jacket she’d been wearing and Belinda could see her uniform hung a little loose on Kayla. It appeared the girl wasn’t eating as well as she should, either. As Kayla moved to the mat, Belinda made a mental note to talk to her coach sometime before the day was over. If there was anything she could do for Kayla, she wanted to do it. Not only because of the girl’s need but because there was something Kayla had given her today—a glimpse of the girlhood she could have had. And a deeper glimpse of the pure optimism of a child. Kayla believed a recruiter would come along, see how good she was and give her a scholarship, a way out of her old life and into a new one.
If Kayla could believe that, Belinda could, too. If she stood up and reached for what she wanted, the same way Kayla was now, climbing to the top of that pyramid and reaching both arms out into the air, she could be happy. Just like the big smile that covered Kayla’s face. Belinda could be really happy.
* * *
Six hours into the day and Belinda was still going strong, Malik noted. She smiled and joked with a lot of the parents—minus Mrs. Martin—and she played with the kids. When she wasn’t passing out cookies, she was watching the cheerleading competition, cheering for one particular girl. When that girl—Malik thought her name was Kayla from the middle school in the neighborhood—had advanced with her team another round, Belinda had clapped and screamed like one of the parents.
The minute the girl ran off the mats, she went straight to Belinda, who’d welcomed her with a big hug. He wondered if she’d known the girl before and made it a point to ask her the minute she returned to the booth.
“She was the only one on the team without her mother cheering her on. She works two jobs...” Belinda told him. “I didn’t want her to feel like nobody cared how well she was doing.”
He simply stared at her for a moment.
“What?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” Malik said, shaking his head. “You just keep shocking me.”
“I could say the same about you, Coach Anthony.”
She touched his arm before leaving him to pass out more cookies. That touch sent heat soaring through his body. It was no secret to Malik that he wanted this woman on a physical level. But she was right, there was a lot he didn’t know about her. Sure, he knew her family and what she did for a living, and he knew she was unhappy. But there were other things about Belinda Drayson-Jones that were pleasantly surprising him. One was that she apparently really liked children. Another was how deeply his need for her had obviously grown over the years, until now he could only pray she was on the same page.
Chapter 7
She should invite him into her apartment and kiss him. Their kisses always led to heated passion, so the next step would be inevitable. She would seduce him. That was Belinda’s final decision as she rode in the passenger seat of the bakery truck Malik had used to transport them and all the goodies they’d provided at the tournament.
He parked in the garage and came up to her apartment with her, just as she’d suspected. Giving him her key, she waited while he unlocked the door for her, just as he did the night after their date. This time as she stepped inside she said, “You want to come in for a while?”
The air around them held a distinct sizzle as Malik waited a beat to respond.
“Sure,” he said almost hesitantly.
Or that might have been her imagination since her heart was beating so fast and loud she could barely hear her own thoughts, let alone perceive anything he hadn’t actually said.
Malik had been to her apartment before so he was relaxed enough to walk into the living room and take a seat. Belinda on the other hand was taking deep breaths with every step she took. Normally, to her, the apartment looked fine. Everything in its place, right down to the three magazines neatly stacked on the glass coffee table—because four or more was too much. This was her living room not a waiting room for the public. Her couch and love seat were a deep caramel color with pretty sage-colored paisley pillows that were precisely puffed and arranged in each corner. There was a steel and cherrywood sofa table and mirror to the right of the closet, just inside the doorway. She always laid her purse there.
Tonight, though, she was so nervous she went into the dining room and turned on the CD player because she thought music would be good, before she realized she hadn’t put her purse down. With a silent curse she walked back, passing Malik as he sat on the couch, to lay her purse neatly on the left corner of the sofa table. A quick glance in the mirror showed her just how nervous she was. Her eyes looked as if they might actually pop out of her head. For a second she just stood still, trying to steady her breathing.
When she thought she could actually speak without making a fool of herself, Belinda returned to the living room and asked, “Would you like something to drink? Beer or wine?”
Malik cocked his head and simply stared at her. Today he’d worn another pair of jeans—denim was made for this man, she was absolutely sure of it. The fit was perfect over his muscled thighs and firm buttocks. Too many times today she’d stopped herself from touching him, just once. But the urge was still there. And his arms, when had his biceps begun to look as delectable as her favorite dessert? It was as insane as the instant heat she felt when she was near him.
And here’s the conclusion she’d finally come to—she was very attracted to Malik Anthony. Not that she’d never noticed before how handsome he was, but in these past couple days, there had been a little more to him and whatever that was pulled at her like a magnet.
“You don’t have any beer in that refrigerator,” he said in a mocking tone. She was sure of the tone as she’d been staring at his lips as he talked, and heard him clearly.
“How do you know?” she asked, trying not to immediately grow defensive.
He grinned. A sexy-ass grin that made her want to run across that room and straddle him.
His response was to get up and walk toward the kitchen. Of course that meant he had to pass her. She gulped in anticipation of his proximity and almost screamed when his bare arm brushed against hers as he moved by. The contact was like electricity, buzzing wild between the two of them. With every bit of strength she could muster, Belinda tried to remain calm. She took deep breaths and used one hand to fan herself quickly while his back was still turned to her.
“See,” he yelled from the kitchen, “cran-grape juice, water bottles and a two liter of diet ginger ale. Just as I suspected.”
By this time Belinda had walked into the kitchen, one hand on her hip as she stood directly behind Malik, who had one hand on the door of the refrigerator, holding it wide-open.
“What? Do you memorize what I have in my house?” she asked, trying to push the door closed.
It was futile since he was much taller and significantly stronger than her. Not that he was exuding any of his strength; he just stood his ground while she pushed around him in a useless and probably totally ridiculous fashion. That thought caused her to stop. Instead she stepped to the side.
“Close the door or pay my utility bill.” She’d tried to sound irritated, or at the very least in control of her emotions. But it didn’t sound very convincing, even to her.
Malik’s response—which should have been anticipated and expected—was to laugh.
“You always drink the same thing. Beer and alcohol are not on the list.”
“I drink wine,” she said haughtily.
“Your preference is white and you only drink at dinner.”
She blinked for a moment because how the hell could he manage to still look good while insulting her?
“I’m not predictable,” was her reply.
He closed the refrigerator door then. “No,” he said seriously, “you’re not. I’m beginning to figure that out about you and it’s sort of a surprise.”
“Why? Because everybody thinks they know me so well?”
He nodded. “I guess yo
u could say that.”
They stood face-to-face now. She was fed up, riled up, turned on and generally about to crack up if she didn’t do something fast. It was now or never, she thought.
Take what you want. Do what you want. Go for it!
The words played over and over in her head until she found herself taking a step forward.
“You have no idea who I really am or what I want,” she told him. “Maybe it’s time I show you.”
To his credit Malik didn’t move an inch. He simply stood there like the honey-toned, too-fine-for-his-own-good man that he was. Her courage only faltered a millisecond as she stepped even closer to him. It was like an invisible cloak had instantly wrapped itself around her so that she felt safe and protected. Feelings she’d previously accredited to her self-defense classes and the Mace she carried in her purse at all times. Never, in all her twenty-six years, had she attributed them to a man.
Belinda was five foot seven, and on most days she wore four- to five-inch heels. And she didn’t consider herself skinny with all the curves she’d had since she’d turned fifteen. So feeling small and feminine around men wasn’t usually something she experienced. Until now.
“Make sure you know what you’re doing, Belinda,” was his tight reply.
She barely paid attention to his words. She was so intent on touching him, finally. His biceps were where she placed her hands, rubbing her fingers lightly along the taut skin over muscle and sighing inwardly.
“I’m sure you’ve heard how smart I am, graduated summa cum laude from Yale,” she told him, watching her hand move over his muscles.
When her hands moved from his biceps to flatten over his toned pecs, it was Malik who sucked in a breath. The action startled Belinda and she looked up into his eyes. He was staring down at her hands on his chest, his lips drawn in a tight line, a muscle ticking on the right side of his jaw. Acting purely on instinct, she glided her hands over his pecs once more, letting her fingertips run slowly over his nipples.
Malik took in a deep breath, lifted his hands to wrap his fingers slowly around her wrists.
“I’m only going to warn you once more, Belinda. Know exactly what you’re doing. Because I don’t know how much longer I can hold back with you.”
She was shaking her head before he could finish speaking, before he could look at her, his eyes dark with what she thought was desire.
“I know exactly what I’m doing. And I don’t want you to hold back,” she told him. It was the most honest thing she’d ever said in her life. The truest statement to ever leave her lips.
For endless moments their gazes locked, her hands on him, his on her. They were perfectly still in her kitchen.
In the next instant Malik had wrapped her arms around his neck and slid his hands down her arms, to her bottom, which he grabbed and squeezed with so much pressure Belinda almost swooned. Before she could take a breath, he was lifting her into the air, wrapping her legs around his waist the way he’d done her arms around his neck.
He was walking her to the bedroom when his lips touched hers softly. “You won’t regret this,” he whispered over her lips but Belinda’s body was so on fire for him she didn’t have time to examine his words.
Inside her bedroom he set her slowly onto her bed. He went to the bedside tables and turned on the lamps. Light flooded the room, slicing through the veil of desire she’d been draped in.
“Both lights?” she asked.
Malik came to stand in front of her so she had to crane her neck to see him.
“I’ve waited so long to see you. There’s no way in hell I’m going to miss a single inch of that gorgeous body.”
In the grand scheme of things this wasn’t the most romantic thing Belinda imagined hearing. But she wouldn’t think about that, not now. Instead she reached out to push up the hem of his T-shirt. Her fingers were remarkably steady as she unfastened his jeans, slid down the zipper then pushed the pants past his hips so that he was only left with his boxers.
He knelt down to untie his shoes and take them off, then the pants were completely gone. As if sensing she needed to undress him, he stood in front of her again and waited. Belinda got to her feet and lifted his shirt over his head. She was now up close and personal with the bare skin of the chest she’d been touching only moments ago. She didn’t hesitate but touched him again, letting her fingers roam over the contours and ridges of his perfectly sculpted chest and abs.
“Damn, your touch feels so good,” he whispered, his hands going to her shoulders and kneading.
His touch felt good, too; everything about this moment felt amazingly good and she couldn’t wait for it to continue.
Malik removed her clothes the same way she’d done with him. He looked everywhere, his gaze making her more than a little nervous. He touched her everywhere, tweaking her nipples, sliding slowly, sinuously down her stomach to her navel, then tracing an enticing line right above the juncture of her legs.
“Perfect,” he said when he was kneeling on the bed, looking at her as she lay there completely naked.
She shook her head. “No. You are perfect.”
“We’re going to be perfect together,” was his reply when he lowered himself over her and kissed her deeply.
So deeply Belinda might have forgotten where she was or what she was doing if he hadn’t slipped a hand between their bodies to part her legs. The minute his fingers separated her tender folds she hissed, spikes of pleasure rocketing through her body until her head thrashed wildly.
“God, you’re so soft and so wet,” he whispered against her ear before licking her lobe.
She parted her legs farther, needing whatever he was doing to go on and on until she found what she was looking for. Only, Belinda didn’t really know what that was. There was a building of pressure that had her knees trembling, her breathing labored. She moaned loudly, would in any other circumstances have hated the sound, but here and now she could do nothing else.
“Malik.” His name came out a strangled whisper, then his lips were on hers again.
Everything in her mind was clouded, punctuated only by his touch. His lips moved down her neck, dropping featherlight kisses on her shoulders and over the swell of her breasts. When his mouth closed over her nipple, his hand continuing to work its magic between her legs, Belinda felt an undeniable sensation inside her. It was a weightlessness that bordered on euphoria. Her own hands reached for the comforter, grabbing fistfuls as her entire body trembled and her world shifted undeniably.
* * *
She was more beautiful than he’d expected and Malik’s gaze hungrily drank in the sight of her. He wanted to stop and stare, to gaze longingly, but his body had other plans. His hands were drawn to her like magnets, his mouth fused to her lips, her shoulders, her breasts, every inch of her skin. He simply could not get enough.
And when she came, the extremely tight walls of her center clenching hot and wet around his fingers, he thought he would join her in that eternal bliss. His erection throbbed painfully, pre-juices dripping from its tip.
It took monumental strength—a feat he would later revel in—to pull back only seconds after she’d trembled in his arms. She whimpered and reached for him.
“Just a second, baby. Just one second,” he whispered through gritting teeth as he climbed off the bed. Finding his wallet in his back pants pocket he pulled out a condom and quickly sheathed himself. When he was once again between her legs, he couldn’t help but look down. It was a mistake, he knew, but he was too weak to stop it.
The plump folds of her center glistened with arousal, and his mouth watered. She shifted, moving her legs farther apart, lifting them slightly, and he wanted to cry out. Instead he scooped her legs up in his arms and lowered his head. The minute his lips touched her moistened skin, the taste of pure honey layering his tongue, Malik moaned.
Belinda gasped, as if she hadn’t expected this. He licked her longingly, slowly, and she whispered his name. It almost sounded like a question, but
Malik pushed that thought aside as her hands gripped the back of his head, pushing him deeper. For what seemed like an eternity he feasted on the decadence that was Belinda. Her hips thrust forward and he held her through yet another release, this one leaving her limp beneath him.
Making his way back up to her face, he whispered into her ear, “I can’t wait to feel you wrapped tightly around me. Can’t wait to sink inside of you.”
“Please,” she said in a sated and impatient voice. “Now?”
That was definitely a question and Malik pulled back slightly to look at her. She had her eyes closed. “Open your eyes, Belinda.”
She tried once and they drifted closed again.
“Belinda, open your eyes and tell me you want this, too. I won’t go any further if you’re having doubts.” Even though he feared not going further might actually kill him, he would definitely stop if that’s what she wanted.
Her head shook almost instantly. “No. Please, don’t stop.” When she finally opened her eyes to look at him, they were filled with desire, dark and bewitching in the muted light of the room.
He moved so that his erection was now between the folds of her center. She lifted her legs and locked them around his waist.
“I said, now,” she told him thrusting her hips upward.
Malik nodded, their gazes locked, and pushed into her with one swift thrust. She screamed and he froze, blood rushing loudly in his head as realization struck him like a brick.
He opened his mouth to speak and she lifted slightly, kissed his lips. “Now,” she told him. “Right now,
dammit.”
Her hands had grasped his buttocks, sending spikes of pleasure down his spine, and he began to pump. Despite the thoughts running through his mind, Malik’s desire took over. His body took what it had wanted for far too long. And Belinda gave. Damn, did she give. With every thrust of her hips, every grind, every whimper, she gave him exactly what he wanted, needed.
Decadent Dreams (The Draysons: Sprinkled with Love) Page 8