by D. A. Young
His lips quirked upward at her offended attitude, allowing some of his rage to recede so he could focus and be present in the moment with his woman. “Are you kidding me? If memory serves, a couple of hours ago, I had you working your hips slicker than a dancehall queen with my fingers all up in your- mmmph!”
“Serves you right, rude ass!” Annabelle retorted crossly, face flaming hot with embarrassment. With a self-righteous huff, she tossed her braids over her shoulder, watching as Graham bent to rub his ankle that she’d just kicked. “You are Riverdancing on every nerve in my body right now, Mr. Carlton! If we’re not doing that, then why are we here?”
“This is the hotel that I booked for my stay. I just need to retrieve the last of my things.” The elevator stopped on the fifteenth floor, but Graham made no move to exit, choosing instead to press the hold button before wrapping his arms around Annabelle’s waist and backing them into a corner. His lips touched hers softly.
“For the record, I know we’re not at that stage in our relationship yet. We haven’t even gotten to my story.” His eyes were somber. “Maybe you’ll change your mind, but I’m hoping you won’t. When the time is right for us, it will happen. Besides, word porn with you is way hotter than any sex I’ve ever had. I know the wait is worth it, Doc. You’re worth it.”
Mollified by his words, Annabelle pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “You drive me crazy in the best ways possible, Graham Carlton. There’s not a chance in hell of me leaving you alone. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
“I’ll hold you to it, Annabelle Gaines.” Graham kissed her nose. “Now, let’s go. As always, ladies first.”
But Annabelle wasn’t buying his uber-innocent expression for one second.
“This is in advance for looking at my ass.” Annabelle whacked him in the arm with her clutch as she passed. “You, sir, are steeped in ulterior motives.”
“Woman, you know me so well.” Graham groaned behind her in rhapsody, bringing a smile to her face. “Goodness gracious! Second room on your left, Doc.”
Annabelle leaned against the doorframe as she watched his long, tapered fingers insert the keycard. They were truly talented and capable. Dancehall queen, indeed.
Graham opened the door but didn’t enter right away. Immediately, he noticed that the closet door was opened two inches more than when he’d last been here. He pushed the bathroom door open, and the mat corner in front of the toilet was flapped over. His messenger bag was exactly where he’d left it on the desk. Graham grinned, seeing that it had remained untouched. They weren’t that bold, just extremely unintelligent for fucking with him in the first place. He didn’t doubt that the room had been bugged as well. He pulled his phone out and swiped it over the bag. The red light indicated a bug had been planted on the flap inside.
Picking up the bag, Graham opened it and removed the bug, leaving it on the desk. With a finger to his lips, Graham motioned to Annabelle to keep quiet and that they were leaving.
“I guess it’s a good thing that the room wasn’t for that. I never would have taken you for a minute man,” Annabelle remarked in the hallway. She pointed to the bag. “What gives?”
Graham pressed the down button for the elevator. “This is my workbag. Please believe that we’ll revisit your minute man crack at a later date. I plan to make you eat those words along with something else.”
“Promises, promises,” Annabelle sang, bumping him with her hip as she allowed him to take her hand once more in his. “Where are we off to now?”
With his other hand, he pulled out his phone and sent a group text. Then with a devilish grin, Graham opened an app he’d designed specifically for moments like these. He entered the names Vechers and Warrick and pressed the activate button. “Now, you and I are going dancing.”
***
Canberra, Australia
Hiram Vechers and Julian Warrick were enjoying a post-dinner cigar after the lovely steak dinner prepared by the Warricks’ housekeeper as they held a spirited debate over politics. Fed up with the discussions they could never seem to get away from, their wives stood up and excused themselves, announcing that they would be in the garden with dessert when the men got tired of talking shop.
“What do you think Carlton is up to? My men have been sitting on the hotel, but he hasn’t made an appearance since that first day,” Vechers complained.
“He’s refused a cleaning service but left his workbag. I’m positive it’s rigged,” Warrick mused. “I’m starting to believe his vacation claim. Perhaps, we should have taken his word and left him alone.”
“Balderdash, Julian! It was necessary and we both know it. Who the hell does he think he is?!” Vechers blustered. “Does he even know what we’re capable off?! If anyone should be leery, it’s him! We can destroy his career like that!” Vecher’s snapped his meaty fingers arrogantly. “I’d love to see him strike back!”
Their phones pinged simultaneously, and they both reached for them. Identical expressions of dawning horror grew on their faces at what they were reviewing. Dick pics to their mistresses, along with the lewd exchanges. They scrambled to get into their phones and delete the evidence of their infidelities but found their passwords to be ineffective. Another message appeared.
Congratulations, gentlemen. You now have my attention. Access to your phones, emails, and organizations have been temporarily suspended. An indecent amount of ass-kissing will be required on your part for access to be restored. I’ll be in touch.
***
The nightclub they went to was a popular one. Graham had shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves before leaving the car, which was a good idea as it was crowded and a little warm. As he escorted Annabelle through the throngs of people, she wasn’t surprised that people made a way for him despite how packed it was. Fine as Graham was, he gave off a strong “unfuckwitable” vibe that no one was willing to try. He was able to find them a high-top table in the corner, but as soon as they sat down, D.J. Khaled’s “Wild Thoughts” came on, and Annabelle hopped back up and grabbed his hand.
“There’s no way we’re sitting this one out!” she yelled over the thumping beats, leading Graham to the dance floor. She crooked her finger at him. “C’mon, Mr. Carlton, don’t be shy!”
I don't know if you could take it
Know you wanna see me nakey, nakey, naked
I wanna be your baby, baby, baby
Spinning and it's wet just like it came from Maytag
White girl wasted on that brown liquor
Annabelle couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed and carefree. Maybe the end of summer before her junior year of high school when she, Georgie, Kenny, and Chelsea attended a teen dance in the town square. The four of them had danced the night away until the dee-jay packed up his turntables. She hadn’t danced much since. Yes, she danced with Rory, but mom-dancing wasn’t what she had in mind tonight.
She led him to the dance floor and backed her ass up on him, surprised by how well they fit together as Graham molded his body to hers. Gripping her undulating hips tightly, he brushed his thick erection against her bottom. Annabelle arched her back and served him moves that had the whole club watching. She loved the way Graham let her take control. He was an alpha to the core, but he knew she needed this, rhythm pouring from his body as he matched her beat for beat.
Diamonds ain't nothing when I'm rockin' with ya
Diamonds ain't nothing when I'm shinin' with ya
Just keep it white and black as if I'm ya sista
I'm too hip to hop around town out here with ya
Graham wrapped her braids around his hand and Annabelle shuddered, feeling his cool breath blowing on her damp neck. She was burning up with need for him and exercising it through the music. “Wild Thoughts” faded into Aaliyah’s “Are You That Somebody”, and Graham spun Annabelle around and pulled her close. His lips trailing along her jaw then down her neck as they gyrated against each other and he led her to a corner. Her hands wrapped around h
is neck, and her lips sought his eagerly. Annabelle fed him moist kisses as his hands splayed over her ass and he pressed her impossibly close to him.
Boy, I promise you if we keep bumpin' heads
I know that one of these days (days)
We gon' hook it up while we talk on the phone
They were consumed in each other, swept up in the moment, their bodies pressed together. The darkness in the club as well as Graham’s large frame shielded Annabelle from view as their bodies moved and their hands caressed each other, turning one kiss into a hundred. They were parched when they finally came up for air, but still, Graham couldn’t resist Annabelle. Nibbling on her lips, he spoke, “I’m going to grab us some drinks. I’ll be right back, love. You good?”
“More than good,” Annabelle purred, feeling exhilarated. He escorted her back to the table and kissed her again. “Hurry back.”
She watched his sexy confident swagger as he cut through the crowd and suddenly understood his reasoning for wanting to walk behind her. Annabelle could watch Graham Carlton for the rest of her life and never tire of such a compelling view. Deciding to take advantage of his absence, Annabelle whipped out her compact. She gasped at her sweaty, glassy-eyed reflection, grabbed a tissue from her purse, and tried to do a little damage control to her makeup.
She’d just finished reapplying her lip gloss when suddenly she felt a cold splash down her back. Whirling around, Annabelle was surprised to find a tall and slender attractive black woman with a café au lait complexion glaring evilly at her. What was more surprising was that she recognized her from a yoga class she occasionally took at Rory’s dance studio. They’d even exchanged pleasantries a time or two. Sheena, or something like that. No, it was Shayla. Judging from the way the woman’s eyes narrowed at her, she recognized Annabelle as well. Her sidekicks looked uneasy and took a couple of hesitant steps back, wisely trying to disappear into the crowd.
“Oops, I spilled my drink,” Shayla drawled, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “It’s Annabelle, isn’t it? Fancy seeing you here with the Yank! He does get around, doesn’t he?” She smiled spitefully, her eyes running over Annabelle’s curvaceous form. “I didn’t know he liked them chunky, mate, but for how long? You really should make more of an effort to get to yoga class.”
Pulling the wet fabric from her back, Annabelle was pissed at this lowlife’s pettiness over a man. Obviously, there was some history between Graham and this woman, but she’d let Graham handle that. Dammit, she knew it! His shit was legit enough to have bitches acting up in the club. Annabelle opted to take the high road and not spoil the remainder of her night.
She gave the other woman a tight smile. “Don’t do this. Just walk away and maintain whatever dignity you can salvage. If Graham wanted to be with you, he would be. It’s as simple as that. If you need a moment to hate on us while you let it sink in, so be it. Just know that it won’t affect Graham and me.” Annabelle leveled a hard gaze at the woman in warning. “But. Do. Not. Get. Shit. Twisted. These chakras ain’t that aligned if you’re feeling bold enough to play in my face, little girl. This is the only warning you’ll get.”
Shayla’s jealousy was suffocating her. She’d come out with some girlfriends in the hopes of forgetting about Graham’s stinging rejection, only to find him here all up on Annabelle. She’d never had a problem before with the quiet, pretty woman with the cute kid. Until Shayla saw the way Graham was with her. It was like he couldn’t get enough of Annabelle. He was solely focused on her, and his touch was extremely proprietary. The PDA he showered her with really made Shayla’s blood boil. He’d treated her like a hit and run, but this woman obviously held a loftier position in his life. One that Shayla coveted, making her spew toxic hateful words recklessly.
“Are you looking for a dad for that loudmouthed brat of yours? If so, you should know that he’s not that type of man. He’s a fuckboy only interested in getting in your large knickers—”
Annabelle’s fist plowing into Shayla’s nose silenced her, and the room swam around her as her face ignited with pain. She felt a trickle of wetness from her nose and touched it. Was that her blood? Why weren’t Lucy and Bianca helping her?! They were just standing there gaping at her. Silly bitches were utterly useless. Shayla grabbed the edge of the hi-top to steady herself. She meant to tell Annabelle to wanker off, but the right hook slamming into her jaw knocked her out.
Shayla landed at Graham’s feet. A glowering Annabelle addressed Graham as the crowd around them grew larger. “This lame ass hoe one of your ex-whatever’s?”
Graham set the drinks down and stepped callously over Shayla’s inert form, reaching for Annabelle. “That’s been over and she was aware of that. I never encouraged her, Annabelle.”
She remained stiff in his embrace, but Annabelle’s eyes were blazing with anger, her chest heaving and her fists still clenched as she tried to refrain from inflicting more violence. “She talked about my child. My child! I don’t give a damn what she said about me, but you don’t talk about my child and think there’ll be no repercussions. Don’t even get me started on what she said about you! She’s lucky that I don’t go for broke on her bony ass.”
Graham’s protective instincts had risen forth at the bar when he looked up and noticed Shayla speaking to Annabelle. It was amazing how in such a short time, he’d come to know his woman. Her expression was too calm with the exception of the tilt of her head and the sharp, feral smile. To the astute eye, those were surefire indications that Armageddon was about to reign down. Unfortunately for Shayla, she wasn’t that woke. Pushing through the converging crowd reacting wildly to some song, Graham winced when Annabelle smashed her fist into Shayla’s face and then followed up by rocking her jaw with another punch.
To know that Shayla had talked about his Rory pushed forth Graham’s protective instincts and need for justice, but it was softened by the knowledge that Annabelle had defended him as well. Aside from the females in his family, no woman had ever done that. He kissed her forehead. “Are you okay?”
Annabelle wound her braids into a bun and worked the kinks out of her neck. “No. I’ve decided I’m nowhere near done with her disrespectful ass. Wake her up!”
Graham looked around the club at the people filming Shayla. He was certain she’d already gone viral. “I say we let karma handle this one, Doc. Let’s go.”
Chapter Sixteen
Annabelle was just wrapping her braids for the night when her phone went off. Picking it up from her nightstand, she read it with pursed lips and debated the message.
The night’s not over. Meet me in the kitchen.
After the club, Annabelle insisted on coming home. On the way, Graham explained his relationship with Shayla, but it didn’t change the way Annabelle was feeling. At the front door, she’d stiffly thanked Graham for taking her out, kissed his cheek then bolted up the stairs. She was feeling foolish for thinking that it was okay to let her hair down and have a normal relationship. She wasn’t just ‘Annabelle’ anymore; she was a mom and tonight, her daughter had come under fire. After checking on Rory, she took a shower and resisted the urge to look out her window as she had every night since Graham moved into the casita. Her phone went off again.
I know you’re not sleeping. Don’t make me come and get that ass.
Annabelle rolled her eyes but hopped up knowing he was crazy enough to do it. She tip-toed down the hallway and stairs to the kitchen where Graham sat at the table in a white tank top and pajama bottoms. His laptop was set up in front of him. Annabelle stopped in the entryway, pointedly ignoring the mirth he was trying to contain at her cow-dotted pajamas. “That’s right, buddy, chuckle it up. What do you want?”
“Thanks for not wearing the face mask,” he drawled. “I would have known you were trying to seduce me if the green slime made an appearance. My heart wouldn’t have been able to survive it, temptress.” Graham cut the teasing when she didn’t respond. “How are you feeling?”
Annabelle fiddled with the
cow-faced buttons on her top. “I’m feeling a little out of element if you really want to know.” She flung her hands up in frustration. “I decide to make what I thought was a positive change in my life, and next thing you know, I’m throwing MMA blows up in the club! That doesn’t exactly fit in with the low-key, toxic-free life I’ve gotten used to living. I was looking for something…normal. Do—can you understand that?”
“No.”
“What do you mean no? As in, no, you don’t think I’m deserving of an ordinary relationship?” Annabelle fumed. “Or, no, you can’t participate in one?”
Swiftly, Graham rose and closed the distance between them. He gripped her chin and tilted her face up until their eyes met and held. “Both. Because you and I? We’re anything but ordinary, love. I come from a background that makes me thankful that I didn’t turn into a product of my environment.”
The disgust in his voice silenced Annabelle. Graham’s eyes were chips of ice, and his mouth was set in a hard, uncompromising line. “My mother was a drug addicted whore, and my father was her pimp. They were sick, twisted, abusive people who never should have had children. They soured me and my sisters on relationships, and we never allowed ourselves to even entertain the notion of having one. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down in my own home. I made that crucial mistake once and paid a heavy price. I haven’t let it down again or wanted to. Until you.”
Graham released her chin to lay his palms on the wall on either side of her. The fierce tenderness in his eyes made Annabelle raise her hand to his cheek and stroke it lovingly as her eyes watered with his admission. “Annabelle, I’ve had the privilege of watching my family and friends fall in love. It was something I never believed in for myself until now. I watch them, and there’s nothing ordinary about them. Love has changed them in ways they never thought possible, and they’re the best versions of themselves because of it. So, no. I’m not settling for ‘ordinary’, and I refuse to let you either.”