by DL White
Trey followed me to the kitchen, then set the box on the counter and unpacked it. I took the press and set it on the counter. He pulled out a few bags of beans and the grinder, already measuring enough for both of us to have coffee.
I poured hot water into the carafe and attached the lid. I had to wait for the coffee to brew before pressing the plunger anyway, so I turned, leaning a hip against the counter. Trey did the same across the kitchen, crossing one leg over the other.
“Well, O'Neal y'all are fuckin’ too loud Whitaker will be happy that you'll be living here, eventually."
I giggled. "I think he regrets telling me that I should check you out."
"O'Neal wanted you to check me out?"
"That night, when you brought my wallet to me, and I ran you off?"
"After I said you had a stick up your ass?" He clicked his tongue and glanced, wistful, into the chandelier. "That was such a romantic night for us."
"Mmmmm. Something about how I reacted to you… he knew. Everybody knew. They kept working at it until I saw it, too. And then I couldn't stop thinking about you."
"Girl. Same." He shuffled across the kitchen to stand in front of me, slid his arms around me. "Now here we are."
"Here we are," I said to him, tipping my face up for a soft, lingering kiss.
"So, about when will… we be…where we are? Where we are, being this house.”
I laughed. "When am I moving in? You don't want to live in your own house by yourself for a while?"
His face folded in utter disgust. "No! We've spent every night together for the last three months. I've been living with you for the last three weeks… hell no. I do not want to live here by myself for a while. I want my girl here with me. I need Badass Esme here."
"You know I like it when you call me that."
Trey shrugged his shoulders. "I won't push, but I had a key made. It's at the bottom of the box that the ring was in. Use it when you’re ready, but as far as I'm concerned, this place is ours."
"I…" I had to close my eyes and breathe; otherwise, I'd cry. "I will go pack my shit right now. I'm serious."
He laughed, then leaned in for a kiss, then stepped back. "Let's have coffee first?"
I slid two mugs over to him so he could pour, then carried them to the island. Trey settled onto the high bar stool next to me. They'd been delivered the day before, so new that we hadn't even taken the plastic off of them yet.
I sipped from my mug, shuddering at the strong blend. "Ugh. I need to make a grocery list. You need coffee creamer."
Trey stood, then walked to the refrigerator, pulling open one side of the shiny steel monstrosity. It was built for a person that entertained, that needed room for platters and rows and rows of food. The way Trey cooked, it would sit empty.
Then again, I thought with a smile, the way I cooked, it could potentially be full all the time.
He plucked a bottle from a shelf and brought it over. I brightened when I saw him twist the cap open and pour cream into my coffee.
"We have coffee creamer."
Trey caught my eye, holding my gaze for several beats before recapping the container and walking it back to the refrigerator.
"Thank you, baby."
"Mmmhmm."
I swiveled around, reaching for him as he came back to his chair. He stopped, stepping between my legs, and took my face into his hands, leaning in to brush his mouth against mine. He took his time, languidly caressing my lips with his, then went deeper, our tongues swirling. The kiss ended slowly, then he pulled back so we could see each other, eye to eye.
He was so damn beautiful, from his full brows to the tight line of his beard along his chin to his deep brown skin tone and molded body.
Trey Pettigrew was so worth the wait.
"You wanna know something?"
"Yes, Trey. I wanna know something."
"So, there's Badass Esme, right? And I love her. But there's another part of you that I'm fond of. She's soft. Very… very soft. I am in love with her."
"Soft? Me?"
"Mmmhmm." He moved his hands down my neck, across my shoulder, down my chest to palm the heft of my breasts through the cotton nightshirt that I'd slept in. He leaned in to kiss me again, whispering, "These are soft," against my lips.
He moved lower, rubbing his hands over the span of my hips and across my thighs. "These…" He chuckled, his head nodding appreciatively. "Yeah, these are real soft. I love these. They're almost my favorite part of you. Almost."
He smoothed his hands up my thighs, pushing my nightshirt up, then pulled, scooting me to the edge of the chair. I leaned back, clutching the edge of the chair for balance, letting him push my legs open further.
Trey was already pulling the band of his pants down when he moved in closer and bent over me, possessing my mouth and my pussy. He lifted my legs and hooked them over his arms. I locked them around him, holding him in position while he thrust into me with hard, fast, deep strokes.
“Shit, baby,” he ground out, his jaw clenched with the effort to maintain control. "You are soft. So soft for me. I love all your soft parts."
"Yessss…"
A long, needy moan curled from him. He alternated between sweet, whispery kisses and nibbles that almost hurt, moving across my shoulder and neck.
I began a grinding circle to match his strokes. With his moans as a gauge, I sped up my movements, taking us higher until my head rocked back, and my body pulsed.
“Oh my… shit that’s good...so good. Right there…”
“Yeah? You glad you waited for me?”
I laughed. “I didn’t wait for you, Trey.”
“Sure you did,” he replied, grinning down at me while not missing a stroke. “I came along and it was over for all them bros.”
“Trey…” I wanted to laugh, but I wanted to come more. “Please… please fuck me…”
“You close? I want to watch."
I wrapped an arm around Trey and clung to him, smiling at our rhythmic moans and hunches of his body against mine until he was still.
"Shit," he panted, pulling out after a few quiet seconds. He helped me re-balance so I didn’t fall off of the chair. “What was that?"
"Really?" I grinned. "You know what that was. And it was sexy as fuck."
"I'm glad we left the plastic on the chairs."
"We should leave it on until we've christened every room in this house."
He let out a salacious grunt, pulled up his pants, and bent to kiss me. "I like the way you think."
"I love you, Trey. I am excited to live here with you. And to definitely eventually marry you."
"I love you, too, Esme."
I sighed, stretching my limbs before I cramped up. “I’ll warm up our coffee. We need to decorate your tree—"
"Our tree."
"Our tree," I corrected with a smile. "Then we can talk about when I can tell Jada about the engagement ring that I want you to surprise me with."
“Bet.” Our lips met in a soft, slow kiss. “Let's get the rest of our lives started."
I hate writing. I love having written.
Dorothy Parker
This is that feeling, right? Dragging yourself to the writing desk or the chair or the couch, or the cafe–when we could drag ourselves to the cafe— to write. To slog out the words, to worry over every sentence, to laugh at the funny bits and cry at the sad ones. We sludge through all of that to get to THIS point right here.
Done. Writing your acknowledgements, (which are actually really hard, and I’ve been so paralyzed by them as to just not do them because I will leave someone out and they won’t think I am grateful… to be a writer is to be very neurotic).
So, this is technically my 12th or 13th book, but there are a few that I don’t count. My goal was always to have ten books in print, on sale, available. The Never List makes book ten. Almost didn’t make it, y’all. I started this book so long ago that I can’t remember why I started it, or where it came from. My old blog is gone, and Anemia turn
ed my brain into Swiss cheese, so I have no idea where these people came from. But I’m so glad they’re here.
I have lots of people to thank, and I will forget half of them. I am sorry. But here goes:
My BetaReaders, who are the only reason that I feel my books are getting better with each release!
KMiller, whose dedication to making a book shine is so appreciated and does not go unnoticed.
Tina, for kicking my tail and giving me the side eye when I said I wasn’t writing. Your turn!
Shelly, who hasn’t blocked me from her twitter DM’s or her email, thank goodness. I’ve got two shoulders to lean on when you need them!
All of my friends who harass me by asking when the book is done HEY THE BOOK IS DONE ! LEAVE ME ALONE FOR APPROXIMATELY FOUR WEEKS, THANKS. :)
My Brunch Boos (it’s our ten year anniversary!) who pretty much started it all, kiss kiss. Love you all!
My PDubs, my BlackGirlTime gals, my Improperly Coiffured, Trollops, my Author frands, my fellow creatives: I am never alone. Thank you for your friendship and companionship and camaraderie. Writing is never lonely.
I can’t ever, ever go without thanking my new and seasoned readers and staunch supporters. Y’all are the real MVP. The reason I slog to the writing desk and make the words is because readers are nice enough to reach out and let me know that they appreciate my books and love reading them. Sometimes those notes come exactly when I need them and I absolutely love hearing from you, so please don’t hesitate to reach out with your kind comments to authordl@booksbydlwhite or hit me in the DM’s on twitter or Instagram!
I have earned many books and lots of naps. And cheese!
xoxo,
Author DL White
Credits
Cover Image courtesy Dreamstime.com ID 118386148
Proofreading by KMiller
Formatted with Vellum
About the Author
Atlanta based women's fiction and romance author DL White began seriously pursuing a writing career in 2011. She harbors a love for coffee and brunch, especially on a patio, but her real obsession is water— lakes, rivers, oceans, waterfalls! On the weekend, you'll probably find her near water and if she's lucky, on an ocean beach.
When not writing books, she devours them. She blogs reviews and thoughts on writing and books at BooksbyDLWhite.com. Grab a book by DL White and #Putitinyourface.
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Also by DL White
Select titles available in ebook, paperback, and audio at booksbydlwhite.com/books
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FULL LENGTH NOVELS
Brunch at Ruby’s
Dinner at Sam’s
Beach Thing
Leslie’s Curl & Dye
The Guy Next Door
A Thin Line
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SHORTS
Unexpected, A Holiday Short
Second Time Around, A Potter Lake Holiday Novella
The Kwanzaa Brunch, A Holiday Novella