by V. Theia
“Invite. The. Gorgeous. Man. Over. Sena.” She enunciated, obviously thinking I’m slow. Beneath my chuckle, I waited for Gray to look our way again before I waved him over.
“Hello, Sena. Good to see you.”
“Hi. If you’re eating in, do you want to sit with us? This is my good friend India. India this is Gray.”
I observed their quick eyeing of each other, spectacularly unapologetic. It was like watching two jungle cats eyeing up an opponent. The air became syrupy rich suddenly as Gray twitched the side of his mouth with a smile and pulled up a seat closest to India.
Interesting.
“I’d love to, thanks. I was just grabbing a bite before a meeting.”
“And what is it you do, Gray?” Inquired my friend who was giving my sometimes-client the seductive once over in a slow peruse of her gaze.
I admit Gray was something to look at.
He’s just never stirred me.
“Hello, friend India.” His steady slate colored gaze was penetrating.
There’s no other word for it. Even I felt it, so I don’t know how India was not reacting.
But she’s always been a ball buster with men she’s attracted to.
She doesn’t always show it right away even if she’s outwardly flirting.
Flirting is her friendly default.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he offered his hand and when they touch it’s longer than a handshake should last for and I saw Gray run his thumb against her knuckles. “I’m in boring sales.” He informed with a rogue grin and a shrug.
He sipped his espresso. Watching India.
“Don’t let him fool you. His place is amazing. We’ve both shopped at some of his online stores. Remember those boots last winter? You got the beige I got the pink.” I nodded towards Gray, dressed in a white T-shirt underneath the V-neck light gray sweater and worn denim jeans. He’s casual and yet looked effortlessly styled with his sweep of ink black hair like he just rolled out of bed with his designer stubble. “You were pissed you couldn’t get the Casadei rose gold pumps because they were sold out.”
India’s green eyes lit up and she nibbled on a corner of her mouth.
“I remember. That’s your website?”
She named it and Gray inclined his head modestly.
He’s being un-showy. I like that.
It’s nauseating when a person runs their wealth into a conversation.
Since I know how many online shopping sites he does own. The man’s net worth must run into the tens of millions.
“We sold out of the Casadei’s in under twenty minutes if I recall.”
India growled. “I’m still bitter.”
Gray chuckled, holding India’s eyes. I suddenly felt like a third wheel. A third wheel who was finishing off the scones with a sweep of my knife through the honey butter.
“My apologies. Maybe I can make it up to you. What size shoe are you?”
Offering a woman, a pair of shoes! It’s like he just offered himself on a silver platter. I waited for India to exclaim or declare she’ll have his babies. If there’s one thing I know about my friend, she is a shoe whore. What woman isn’t?
But India didn’t do what I expected. In fact, she scrutinized Gray as he continued to sip on his espresso with the kind of shrewd gaze that would normally frighten away a man. Too fearful of the challenge that is India. She’s brash and loud and I adore her to death.
Gray, however just smiled a little and awaited her answer.
I’m too invested in this conversation to even go to the bathroom which my bladder is screaming out for.
“You sound just like a sugar daddy.” She laughed lightly, tapping her red nails on the table. “Are you looking for a sugar baby, Gray?” India’s voice so soft and sultry as a chocolate dipped strawberry. I bit back my grin.
“I don’t know,” he replied instantly in the same amused tone.
With the most intense stare I’ve seen on him.
He’s eye-fucking India without shame or care if anyone else is watching this show. It’s attraction at its first stages.
“Are you looking for someone to take care of you?”
Ohmigod. What am I watching? The way he said even made my belly clutch. My heart rate increased with a fit of giggles I daren’t let out for fear I’ll ruin whatever sexy mood they’ve created with a few choice words.
It’s live verbal porn. Or at least, low level flirting. I nudged her leg under the table. She ignored me to eye-fuck Gray.
India sat back in her chair, pushing her breasts out in the silk blouse. Gray’s eyes flickered down to her chest but didn’t linger, he goes right back to her face. And that’s when I see it. India’s smile faltered, and she broke the eye contact first in favor of fussing with her hair.
She’s nervous.
I never see her nervous around anyone.
She’s always been my confident spirit animal.
She hummed a little and looked on from under her lowered lashes. “You never know with the state of the economy, right?”
Gray chuckled and agreed. The tension broke.
We go to safer, mundane topics of conversation.
At one point I don’t know what I find more delicious; the plate of donut balls I ordered or the powerful flirting words firing across our table.
TWELVE
It’s T-minus three days before we go to the Hamptons to visit Noah’s parents. Distractions don’t come as fast and thick as I’d like them to and I’m frankly worried.
With a lot on my mind I’m laid out on what will be the nursery, my body cushioned by the carpeted floor while I contemplate life’s big issues.
The. Nursery. Gah.
It seemed unreal, but my chest flooded with warm feelings at the thought in a few months a real human baby would live in this room. Our baby. I’m still Twilight Zone shook that Noah and I made a baby together and not in a petri dish.
From somewhere on the left I caught the sound of Noah padding quietly into the room, he came to stand over me, feet braced, and he twitched a curious half grin, his brow matched his lip. Damn the sexy villain really does it for me whatever angle he presented himself.
“Fancied a nap?”
“I think I’m having a panic attack.”
“Another one?” He had no sympathy. The monster. Last night it was because I couldn’t find my cell phone charger. It was important. Just because those kinds of items aren’t vital to him doesn’t mean it wasn’t important!
Noah had laughed at me and rubbed my head like I was a poodle.
I scowled and flailed my arms out on the super soft beige thick-pile carpet while giving him the stink-eye.
“What is it today, kitten?” Hands slid into his jeans pockets. I heard his mirth tickling his rough voice box.
He’s in a good mood because he’s officially in the restaurant business now.
Yay for the dick of douche-dom being in our lives forevermore. I might throw a parade.
I blinked and told him the truth. “What if I have no maternal instincts? What if I accidentally leave the baby on the subway or in a bakery when I’m craving a cronut?”
Noah crouched and used a finger to brush my chin length hair from my eyes. That same finger moved along my lower lip, traced the upper and rested on the dip in my chin. “I think babies are hard to leave behind anywhere, kitten. Are you really concerned about this?”
I looked up at him. This man who owned all my heart and soul.
Who I already know will be the best dad in the world.
He’s so excited he has a fricking app on his phone to tell him random baby facts about how big the fetus is.
He’s so cute I almost die of love every time his app notification alerts and he smiled to himself before he shared with me what today’s fact was.
And me. I’m just a blob who forgets at random times I’m going to be a mother at the end of all this.
My brain was constantly full of anxiety over thoughtless people having a say in ou
r relationship that I simply forget the baby inside me and then that brings on the crying and the self-hatred because what kind of woman does that make me?
“Come on,” he glided both hands under my armpits and boosted me slowly to my feet, keeping me against his chest where I burrowed into my place.
And then Noah uttered four words no woman on this realm or any other wanted to ever hear. My belly curled inwards like it does with an orgasm, only now it’s pained, and dread filled.
“We need to talk.”
“Oh, yes,” I mocked. My heart faltering for a second. “Because that’s just what an unstable woman loves to hear.”
He laughed and slid his palm down to clasp mine, pulling me from the soon-to-be nursery, down the hall and into the kitchen where he sat me on the stool by the island while he grabbed a sauté pan placing it on the stove, pulling ingredients from the fridge and began chopping like a pro.
What he doesn’t do is say a fricking word.
I grew edgy while waiting.
Though my eyes followed him around the kitchen. Eating him up.
The way he moved, incredibly relaxed and confident in everything he did and just a bit dirty too with his under the lids side glances he sent me.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I’m empty, so empty. He’s made me empty.
By having him he’s ensured no one else will ever be enough for me and not knowing what he wanted to talk about is a torture I can’t stand.
I was too sober for this cat and mouse game.
What did he have to talk about that chopping carrots and baby corn took precedence?
I huffed, glaring. “I thought you wanted to talk? Are you breaking up with me? Just tell me if you are.” Wouldn’t that be fun, a single mom on top of everything else. I almost hysterically giggle.
Noah’s head came up from his task. A big knife braced in his fingers and it’s the first time he looked at me with irritation stained in his blues.
“You’re most likely joking about that, but dammit, Sena. Don’t fucking say it to me again,” he slammed the knife down on the counter.
I blinked because he’s brusquely intense, his face in sharp edges as he rounded the corner of the counter and came to tower directly in front of me. In fact, he used a hand to my knees to swivel me on the stool so I’m facing him. Even with streaks of anger filling his face he is unbelievably handsome.
His face is what I like to refer to as sittable.
Noah has a better chance of asking Tom the dick-valley leader to take a walk off a very short peer than he has of getting rid of me.
So, he just better get used to that right now.
I arched my neck and gave him my best Black stare I inherited from all my aunts and momma. The women in my family sure could intimidate. Momma always said I’d make the perfect southern wife because I knew how to boss people around.
I might not be Noah’s wife, but he better not try to shake me loose. I grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him into my space, so we’re nose to nose. He smirked at the same time his eyes dropped to my mouth.
I licked my lips provocatively. Noah growled, and he inclined to kiss me. Good boy. I opened and permitted entry, we twisted tongues, kissed sloppy and wet. Deep and concentrated, his hand around my neck held me in place.
I probably looked drunk when I’m set free. It’s how every kiss with Noah gets me riled up. Like he’s reached inside and shaken me up like fizz. “What did you want to talk about?”
One more kiss to the tip of my nose he turned back to cooking. He sautéed, whisked, stirred and turned me on all at the same time. A man who could cook and cook naturally is one of the most arousing things to witness. “You’ve been distant, kitten.” He’s right, “what can I do to change that? Are you worried about this weekend? You know it’s going to be fine, don’t you?”
I lifted a shoulder in a non-committal reply. Whatever is going on in my head needed to take a back seat. I’m pregnant and that’s all that matters. I can’t—won’t—have a baby of mine feeling the stress I’m under, doesn’t it stunt growth or something like that? I read it once in a Vogue.
“It’s a worry, but it’ll go as it goes. My parents aren’t going to turn their back on a grandbaby. Momma will probably be clacking her knitting needles before we leave.” His grin flashed, he tossed a cooked mushroom into his mouth. Noah liked my parents and my parents like him. They liked him as my gay best friend. Will they believe he’s my boyfriend? Time will tell. “Are you nervous to tell your family?”
His answer was a simple one. “No.” And I see he’s not. He’s excited.
“You’re going to be a great dad,” I confided, resting an elbow to the counter, I put my chin in my hand. My gaze following his steps around his kitchen. Food smells were strong, and though I was hungry, always fricking hungry now, my attention was on Noah. Watching him move and take charge. He’s going to feed me and that’s sexy as hell.
Somehow seeing him peaceful about everything calmed me.
Whatever he’s making smelled wonderful, but I didn’t take notice. My concentration was all him. By the time he licked sauce from his thumb for a third time I couldn’t take it a minute more.
I slipped off the stool, padded slowly around the island and while he’s stirring a pot I snaked arms around his waist from behind, sliding under his shirt and rested my fingers on his flat belly. Dropping kisses on his back I cuddled into him. “Noah …” it’s nice to appreciate a man with his solid frame. Not only does he have muscle mass, but his size was comforting in a way that wouldn’t please a feminist if I said it out loud. He made me feel safe and loved.
And yeah, I’m completely aroused by him on a basic aesthetic level.
With a slick move that didn’t dislodge my hold he turned his body and smirked down at me.
I saw smoke in his oceans deep blues.
He let his head hang down so I’m in grasping distance of his mouth.
My momma didn’t raise no fool.
I latched on and sucked his top lip.
Moaning when he grabbed under my armpits, he lifted and deposited me like a sack of flour onto the work surface.
He made room for his form by widening my legs and holding my outer thighs, his head still in that drifted down position where I saw not only every fleck of light in his irises but the wetness on his mouth from mine.
I licked my lips, wanting more.
“What do you need, Sena? Tell me.” Suddenly my tongue, thick and stupid, glued to the roof of my mouth. He urged me to speak by kissing down my jaw. His hands massaging my thighs.
I was warm all over.
Reaching between us, I brushed his belly and kept on going down until I had his full hardness in my palm, grinding the heel along the outline through his clothes. “I want you to turn the stove off, take me through to your office where I’ve had a million fantasies of fucking you there and give this to me.”
“Only a million, kitten?” The minute his voice rumbled like that I was done for.
I went for his mouth.
He kissed me harder, spearing his tongue into the warmth of my lips. Pulling away, he took two steps back to turn off the burner, pans bubbling away he returned and plucked me off the counter, legs wound around him. I was already nibbling under his jaw as he strode through the long length of his apartment.
We were joined at the lips when we got there.
“Let’s make that a few million more fantasises,” he husked into my mouth and dropped me onto the leather sofa. He followed me down, using a knee to steady himself on the edge, the rest of him hovered over me and I wasted no time in getting my greedy hands on Noah.
“I need …” I whined a covetous sound along his neck, my shaky hands urgently tried to open his jeans. He freed a strangled groan, enjoying the pleasure my hand gave him. It took no time at all for his cock to thicken under my attention. Heady and wild, I stroked him harder.
“What do you need? I’ll give you anything,” he told me. Concentrated and de
ep, his eyes completely took me over.
He started to pull off his T-shirt by reaching behind and yanking it over his head. I jerked down my patterned leggings, the ones that fit my cushioned butt perfectly.
“You. I only need you. Now, Noah.”
God, he was beautiful, his body incredibly firm and cut everywhere. Perfection. How was I supposed to keep from devouring every substantial inch of him? And then I realized I didn’t have to filter myself or pretend I’m not having dirty fantasies, I can have what I want and my brain kind of shorted out with that comprehension because my hands went everywhere, my mouth following behind, sucking and tasting, exploring the man I’ve wanted for eons.
He tasted as good as he looked, and I became a little wild once I was back inside his mouth. It was the kind of frenzied kissing with no form but utterly perfect at the same time.
“You taste like wet dreams.” He grunted a breath over my face, the air tickled but he followed by brushing his thumb on my lower lip. “These are so fucking soft,” he charmed them open to lick me.
His skill of using the word fuck as a noun, verb, adverb and in some cases an adjective always gave me internal giggles. That villain tongue of his has no amount of pleasure I don’t take from it.
The way he goes at me was single-minded, almost as if he doesn’t have one other care in this world other than how much he can suck on my tongue.
I don’t mind a bit, at this point my clit is engorged with blood and tingles I wanted to beg him to suck more in hopes the thread between tongue and groin would ignite me into a climax.
I’m so turned on I can barely see straight.
“Look at you, all pretty and panting. Is this what you want?” My mmhm was my only coherent reply.
I grabbed at him, bringing his head back down to mine, his laugh vibrated my lips, but he didn’t tease me, his kiss, forceful, demanding. “You’re intoxicating.”
I blinked at him hovering over me. “Am I?”
“I can’t get enough.” Another heated kiss, he stole all my air and gave me his in return. “Will you come like this?” His palm between the apex of my thighs, grinded slowly and my entire body quaked in longing.