“Well, I guess I know now. But what kind? See. Too many options.”
“Anything with nuts—peanuts, almonds, pecans.”
Rashad laughed at the passion in her voice. Then she stepped back to him and took the DVD he was holding out. It was The Color Purple.
“Aw. I love this movie. And I don’t have it.”
“I’m glad. I thought you might like it. You think in color. Look at your place.”
Michelle followed Rashad’s gaze to her living room. The furniture was worn but colorful, and her walls were full of art, what she could afford, which was her own and her son’s. It did make for a rather gaudy presentation. She laughed at the thought.
“What?” Rashad asked.
“It’s actually quite gaudy. I hadn’t noticed before.”
“It’s not gaudy. It’s bright. And it fills in for what you don’t have or can’t afford right now.”
“That it does. Thank you, Rashad, for the movie and the toys for Andre. You didn’t have to, really.”
Michelle didn’t know how to truly express her thanks. It was all more than she could have imagined and just like Rashad, as she was coming to see.
“I wanted to. Don’t give it another thought. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes. Where are we off to?”
“Have you been to Gallery Place, Chinatown, in northwest D.C.?”
“I’ve driven through it a couple of times.”
“Good. I thought we could go to Clyde’s for an early dinner—they have just about everything. And the movie theater there has fourteen cinemas, so there should be something that we like. Does that sound okay?”
“It sounds great. Oh, can we find parking down there, or should we take the train in?”
“Parking is a block over. If your shoes are comfortable, we’ll be fine.”
“They are,” Michelle said. “Let’s go.” Then she paused. “Wait. Who’s driving?”
“I figure I am—only because I know where we’re going.”
“Okay. As long as you’re not still poking fun.”
Rashad pursed his lips in the cutest little pout. “Would I do that?”
Michelle flicked her finger against his arm. “Yes,” she said. “You would.” But she was still taken by his childlike pucker and smiled.
Clyde’s was packed, and when she got to see the atmosphere, she understood why. It was lively, but it was quiet enough to talk, and they did have just about everything.
Michelle rolled her shoulders and stretched her head to either side after they sat down.
“I’m so glad I didn’t have to work today. I got so much done.”
“Tired?”
“No, I just needed a stretch.”
“How do you manage on what you make at the coffeehouse, even as a manager? Is that too personal to ask? You don’t have to answer.”
“No, that’s fine. I would wonder if I wasn’t me. I get some child support and alimony from my ex-husband, and between that and work, I can pay for things around the house. For school I take out student loans, and my cousin Nigel helps a little with that. He’s...wonderful, and he’s like you—giving. I can only imagine what I’ll need to pay him back.”
Rashad took her hand, and Michelle felt a tingle move up her spine.
“He wants you to pay him back?”
“No, but I will. I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t. He tells me that we’re family, and that if anything, I should ‘pay it forward,’ like the movie, where you help someone else. But I will pay him back.”
“I can tell you will. What are your plans for your career?”
“I don’t know in detail. Right now I’m just working on finishing my degree and making myself as marketable as possible. That’s why I want a good portfolio for school. I’m hoping that I can get a good entry-level job and keep moving upward.”
“Do you save for Andre’s education?”
“Actually, I do, out of child support. I couldn’t before, but I do now. It means sticking to a tight budget, but I’m used to that.”
Michelle saw the question in Rashad’s eyes, but she didn’t want to say more about the past and was glad that he let it go.
“Are there plans for your career?” she asked.
Rashad started caressing her fingers, and Michelle felt herself shudder. It was so sensual, like it had been on their other dinner date. Michelle couldn’t keep from caressing back. She couldn’t stop the heat from rising in the pit of her stomach.
“I make a decent living now, but I think I’ll want more when I have a family, and I want to do more artistic work. Right now my goal is to keep doing good work and expanding my credentials so that I can get those pay increases and maybe open my own design firm one day.”
“That’s a good plan once you’ve gotten as far as you have.”
Michelle felt another twinge of jealousy, but she let it go. She would be okay one day. She didn’t expect Rashad’s next line of inquiry.
“What’s it like raising a son? What is Andre like?”
“Andre is a sweet pea, as much as he’s been through.”
She’d said too much again, dang it. She had to stop opening the door to things she wanted to forget. She hoped that Rashad had missed it or would let it pass, but he didn’t.
“What has he been through, Michelle?”
She wanted to say something that would close the door on that question, but she didn’t know what.
“He... My marriage was difficult, and it ended badly. That’s not the example I wanted to set for my child, but he’s just a sweet kid—in spite of all that.”
Rashad nodded and let the question pass, and Michelle was grateful.
“But raising a child is wonderful. It’s so much responsibility. His whole life right now is up to me. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I think I know what you mean.”
“And the love of a child is totally unconditional. It’s...a blessing. I guess I’m not really religious, but I don’t know any other word.”
To show his understanding, Rashad rubbed her hand. When he was finished, Michelle went back to caressing his fingers. She liked that better. She saw the look in his eyes when she did it, and he seemed to like it better, as well.
Their dinner arrived, and Michelle shook her head to get out of her thoughts. She and Rashad let go of each other’s hands and pulled them from the table to get ready to eat. She had ordered catfish, and Rashad had gotten steak.
“One day we have to come back here for their burgers,” he said. “I’ve heard they’re great, but there’s so much to choose from that all the times I’ve been here, I’ve gotten something else.”
“Have you been here often?”
“Sometimes my brothers and I come here before or after a game or if we get together on a weekend.”
“You and your brothers sound close.”
“I guess we are, as much as they rib me.”
“I wish I had a sister. Or a brother. Any sibling. I guess my cousin and his wife are as close as I come to that.”
“Then I’m glad you have them. I want to meet them sometime.”
“I hope you will. They’re great people. Without Nigel, I wouldn’t be in D.C. He was here first and helped me make the move. He drove me home to get more of my things. He helped me out financially until I had an income. He helped me get used to a more northern, more urban landscape. He encouraged me to go to Howard. He continues to help me with paying for it. He’s been a godsend.”
“One day,” Rashad said, “I hope you’ll feel close enough to me to let me help you.”
“One day, I hope I won’t need you—or anyone else—to help me.”
“That day is coming.”
“I know,” Michelle said. “And I
guess I know all that I’ve actually done on my own, as well.”
“Exactly. You made the move. You’re taking the classes and working and raising a son. You’re my hero.”
Michelle was touched by Rashad’s words.
“I just have to remember to celebrate all that while I strive for more.”
“Amen.”
They ate quietly for a while, and the peace between them wasn’t interrupted until their waiter came to offer them dessert.
“Let’s split something,” Michelle suggested.
“What? I could go for apple pie.”
“I don’t think so. Not when there’s something called Chocolate Blackout Cake on the menu.”
“I should have known about the chocolate,” Rashad said, shaking his head.
Michelle laughed. “Yes indeed.” She turned to the waiter. “We’ll split the chocolate cake and ice cream.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Michelle ate most of the cake, and Rashad had most of the ice cream. After that, they headed to the movie theater, selected the new version of Les Misérables and found a relatively unoccupied row in the back of the theater to watch it.
Rashad had brought his sweater, and Michelle was already wearing hers, but it was still chilly. Not long after the film started, she slipped her hands into Rashad’s open cardigan to warm them. His chest heaved under her touch, and he glanced toward her.
“Sorry,” she said. “I just wanted to warm my hands.”
“No need for apologies. I don’t mind if you do that again.”
Michelle felt mischievous and raked her fingers along Rashad’s chest. It heaved again, and he shifted in his seat.
“Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have said you could do that again.”
Michelle smiled and let her hands come to a rest. Rashad wrapped his arm around her, drawing her close to his warmth. She could feel the heat from his body as she rested her head on his shoulder, and his arm was like a blanket around her.
Without thinking about it, she ran her fingers over his chest again. Rashad turned toward her with a passionate look on his face that made her catch her breath, and before Michelle could react, he had drawn his hand inside her sweater and over her chest.
His touch filled her with desire, and her nipples tightened under his fingers. And he didn’t stop. He caressed the taut peaks that his fingers had just made until she was shivering with each flicker, until a low murmur escaped her throat.
They teased each other like that on and off throughout the film, stopping when one had had too much or to hear a touching or rousing song. But one or the other would start up again after the interlude. Occasionally, Rashad dipped his head to kiss her forehead or her ear. It made Michelle shiver, but he couldn’t really know what it did to her, the way it set her moisture flowing.
They sat up as the credits rolled and looked at one another. Her face felt flushed, and she was sure that the passion he saw there matched the passion in his own eyes.
“I have to get you home to Andre, don’t I?” Rashad said.
“No, he’s staying with Nigel and Regina and their little girl tonight.”
Rashad looked into her eyes and spoke in a soft, deep voice that sent quivers into the pit of Michelle’s stomach. “Come home with me,” he said. “Let me make love to you.”
Michelle had wanted to hear Rashad say something like that, but now that he had, she found herself reluctant to respond. Were they moving too fast? Was she ready for this? Would this be real, or would this be “mutually superficial”? Or were they meant to be just friends? She didn’t know the answers to those questions, only that she wanted him as much as he wanted her and that she hadn’t dated a sweeter man in all her life.
“We don’t have to,” he said. “We—”
“I want to, Rashad.”
At the car Michelle had a thought. “Do you have...protection for us, or do we need to stop somewhere?”
“We’re covered for that at my place.”
“Okay.”
Michelle opened the door and paused.
“Do you want me to drive?” she asked, breaking the tension between them.
“Can you find your way to your place from here?”
Michelle pursed her lips. “No.”
“Well, then, you definitely can’t find your way to mine.”
They laughed, and Michelle wagged her finger at him. “You underestimate my ability to take directions.”
“Next time, when I’m not in a hurry. I’d like to see you behind the wheel of my car.”
Inside the car, Rashad leaned over to kiss her, took her hand in his and they headed toward enchantment.
Chapter 6
Rashad let Michelle in the front door with a breath of anticipation and turned on the light in the foyer. His Yorkie had been waiting for him, and the dog got to Michelle before he did, yelping and jumping up to her knee and wagging his tail, excited for a visitor.
“I’m sorry.” Rashad lifted the little thing with one hand to stop its hyper assault. “This is Shaka Zulu, my Yorkshire terrier. He’s very happy to meet you. I know. It’s kind of Paris Hilton to have a tiny dog, but he was all alone at the shelter. No, actually, he was with a whole litter. He was just cute. Tell Michelle it’s Taye Diggs or Bruce Willis to have you—manly men. Okay, yes. I talk to the dog. I think you and Andre will have fun when you meet.”
Michelle was laughing fit to pee herself and hugging her middle. When she stopped, she managed to say between gasps, “And his name is Shaka Zulu?”
“Yes, quite. Shaka to friends.”
And she was off again with laughter, hopping up and down.
“It’s okay, Shaka. She’s a mean lady.”
“Aw. No, I’m not. He’s precious.” Michelle rubbed Shaka’s head.
“Let me put him in the den so he’ll go to sleep.”
“Okay.”
When Rashad came back from upstairs, he found that Michelle had turned on the living room light and was looking around. She wasn’t interested in the leather sofas or the Amish wood or the plush carpet, however. She was looking at his artwork, which was all by relatively unknown local artists and all original.
She glanced his way when she heard him.
“You have some great pieces here.”
“Thank you. I add a piece now and again, whenever I find something that inspires me or just something that I like. I hope to have some pieces of yours soon.”
Rashad moved behind her and looked briefly at the image before Michelle, seeing it with new eyes. But then he was enticed by the artwork that was standing right in front of him.
Michelle had on a yellow peasant top and a matching crinkle skirt with one-inch heels and a yellow sweater. He had never seen her in a dress before, and it made him want to touch her all over.
He wrapped his arms around her, leaving one at her waist and moving the other to her breasts. When her nipples tensed and her body leaned into his embrace, he knew that she was beginning to feel again what they had felt in the theater. He hadn’t stopped feeling it.
He lowered his lips to her ear and heard her suck in her breath, and when he lowered them to her neck, continuing to knead her breasts, her breathing became quicker and more labored. He wanted to turn her around and carry her upstairs, but he wanted her to be ready and to go because she wanted him, too.
Rashad took his hand from her waist and moved it down her outer thigh and up her inner thigh until he reached her center. He moved his palm over the weave of her skirt until her buttocks bucked against his groin, pressing against his rigid member and shooting a hot wave through his center. That was where she liked it. He rubbed his fingers over that place until she moaned.
“What are you doing to me?” she asked, but he couldn’t speak.
&nb
sp; When he stopped, he felt her wince, but he only stopped a moment, long enough to lift the hem of her skirt and replace his fingers over her thick mound. Her legs parted slightly, granting him access, and as his finger slid over her panties and he felt the slick moisture there, he lifted his head from her neck, clutched at her breasts and groaned.
Rashad moved his hands between Michelle’s thighs until her throat came alive and her hips gyrated from the pressure of his fingers. The oscillation of her buttocks against his swollen peak sent sparks through him and made him ready. So did her moaning and thrusting.
“What are you doing to me?” she said again.
Her sounds and movements were leading him toward the edge. But he knew he couldn’t reach that point, not before he knew what it was to please this woman.
Just when he thought he couldn’t stand any more, Michelle turned to him, pressing her body against his and burying her face against his shoulder to catch her breath.
When she lifted her face to his, the passion he saw in her eyes filled him with pride and made him smile.
She reached up to his face and pulled it to hers, then gently pressed her lips to his. Her kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant. As she became lost in the moment, her lips parted and let in his searching tongue. Her hand crept down his chest between them, as if unsure. He pulled one arm from around her body and found her breast again. Now her hand became certain, raking his chest and moving down his abdomen to the crest in his slacks. He knew she was going to take hold of him, yet he wasn’t prepared for the fire that licked through his sex and the long moan that he poured into her mouth.
He moved his hand down to her skirt again, lifted it and tugged her panties aside, fighting his own need to explode. His fingers circled her moist meadow. She thrust against them and winced. When his fingers kneaded the small crown between her inner lips, she clutched the front of his shirt and let out a series of sobs.
She had ceased to touch him, but the flame she’d lit still moved through him, and he wanted to make her feel that flame. He continued to knead her as she moaned. And then her breaths became short. Her thrusts became hard and she sobbed out his name while her body bucked, bringing her over the edge.
In His Arms Page 5