Just Say The Word

by Tiffany Patterson

  “Did I tell you how sexy your ass looks in that skirt and with those heels?”

  I lowered my head, giggling, only for Damon to lift my head from under my chin with his finger. I was starting to realize how much he liked watching my facial expressions. I tried to remember, but sometimes my shyness still consumed me.

  I’d worn a black, leather skirt with a black, sleeveless silk top, and paired it with my favorite leopard print six-inch heels. I’d bought both the skirt and heels over a year ago but hadn’t had the nerve to wear them outside of my apartment until that night.

  “Yes, but I don’t mind hearing it again,” I answered, surprising even myself with how flirtatious I sounded.

  Damon growled in my ear, biting my earlobe, causing another round of giggles.

  I jumped a little in surprise when he slapped my ass, before raising his hand to the small of my back.

  “Keep that same energy once we leave this damn club and I get you all alone.”

  I was half tempted to tell him we could skip the club but I bit my tongue. Instead, I asked, “Who’re we meeting here tonight?”

  Damon shook hands with the bouncer, who nodded and stepped aside, letting us easily bypass the long line out front.

  “My boy, Xavier Grant, and his wife, Chanel.”

  I wrinkled my forehead, knowing the name sounded familiar. “Xavier Grant, the restaurateur?”

  Damon glanced down at me. “You’ve heard of him?”

  I nodded. “He’s from Houston, right? I think I read an article on him in Black Enterprise magazine a while back.”

  Damon nodded just before we got to the bar. Reaching across, he shook hands with the bartender. He seemed to know everyone in here, but his left hand never left the small of my back.

  “Yeah, that was him. I read that same article.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “We’re up here.” He tilted his head in the direction of the stairs that lead to the VIP section. “Almost eight years now.”

  I didn’t respond, simply followed as Damon took my hand and led me up the stairs.

  “There he is!” a deep voice sounded as we entered the VIP section. It was much quieter up here, though the music could still be heard from the first floor of the club.

  I glanced up as I stepped on the top step, Damon stepping to the side so I could have a clear view of the section. I swallowed as a man with chestnut-colored skin, a solid build of just over six-feet, and dark, coffee-colored eyes moved closer to Damon with his hand outstretched. Damon slapped fives with the man I knew to be Xavier Grant. They did the half-handshake, half hug thing most men did as greeting.

  “X, this is my lady, Sandra,” Damon introduced, pulling me into his side.

  The butterflies that moved through my belly hearing Damon refer to me as his were slightly overwhelming. I swallowed before letting my gaze trail up to Xavier’s eyes.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Sandra,” he stated, holding out his hand to me.

  I shook his. “Pleasure, Xavier.”

  “Call me X. Most of my friends do.”

  “Will do, X.”

  He smirked. “My wife’s around here somewhere. Probably giving someone legal advice some damn where.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

  Damon and I moved farther into the VIP section as Xavier sauntered off, apparently going to retrieve his wife.

  “His wife’s a lawyer, right?” I questioned Damon as we sat. I thought I remembered reading that in the magazine article. He’d recently gotten married but that was nearly two years ago.

  “Pssh,” Damon made an exasperated sound with his mouth, as he sat back, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Dude had the nerve to marry a damn divorce attorney. And a pretty good one, too. He’s crazy as hell.” Damon shook his head, laughing.

  “Why’s that make him crazy?”

  Damon lifted an eyebrow my way. “’Cause he married her without a prenup. He has no choice but to stay with her for the long haul. She’ll clean him out.”

  I frowned. “So the only reason he should stay with his wife is because she could take him to the cleaners?”

  Damon gave me an amused look. “Look at you getting all in your feelings. I didn’t say all that. I was just teasing. Calm your pretty ass down. And like I told you, keep that same energy for later.” He moved closer, brushing his lips against mine.

  “I will if you will,” I responded against his lips. Yeah, clearly my inhibitions had been lowered when it came to Damon.

  His beard tickled my chin as he grinned, lowering his face to press a kiss to the corner of my lips.

  My eyelids fluttered and I nearly shut them entirely when I heard, “My bad, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  I turned to the deep voice that’d just spoken to find a smirking Xavier Grant staring down at Damon and I. To his right was a shorter, curvy woman, who he had his arm wrapped around. She smiled down at us.

  Damon and I stood.

  “Chanel.” Damon moved forward to press a kiss to the woman’s cheek.

  “Don’t get too close to my lady,” Xavier ordered, giving Damon a hard glare.

  “Cut it out,” Chanel stated, waving her hand toward her husband.

  “Sandra, this is Chanel, my wife,” Xavier introduced.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” she said, extending her hand.

  Smiling, I reached for her outstretched hand. “Likewise. I love that jumpsuit you’re wearing,” I complimented without even thinking. The jumpsuit appeared to be a dark blue silk material with cuffed sleeves that stopped just above the elbow. One side of the jumpsuit left her shoulder exposed and the waist was secured by a wide belt that was the same color as the rest of the outfit. While Chanel couldn’t be described as thin, she definitely was in shape, and well put together. The outfit screamed confidence and style. Her hair fell in big barrel curls around her shoulders. Chanel appeared to be around five foot five or six inches with the four-inch heels she was wearing.

  She smiled widely. “Thank you. I’m loving that leather skirt.”

  “Here the women go talking fashion.”

  I gave Damon a sideways glare to which he responded with a chuckle.

  “Don’t let your mouth get your ass in trouble,” Xavier warned Damon, laughing.

  “Anyway, Damon,” Chanel interrupted, “it’s nice to see you. What’ve you been up to?”

  “You know me, constantly working.”

  “Not always, apparently.” Chanel turned brown eyes on me.

  I felt Damon’s hand wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to the warmth of his body. Instinctively, I melted into his frame, almost as if I was supposed to be there all along.

  I swallowed down the feeling that that thought evoked in me.

  “Not always.” He gazed down at me.

  “This one is working at all times. She was just trying to give the damn waitress legal advice,” Xavier added, side-eyeing his wife.

  I giggled at the look she gave him.

  “I was just trying to be friendly. She’s separated and has two kids. She took on waitressing as her second job just to be able to afford her kids’ extracurricular activities because apparently her husband refuses to pay until she takes him back.” Chanel rolled her eyes. “Men,” she sucked her teeth, disgusted.

  “Daaamn. We’re standing right here,” Damon spoke up.

  Xavier laughed. “She doesn’t mean it. She’s just hormonal. The baby and all.”

  My eyes widened and my gaze bounced from Damon to Xavier, then to Chanel to see her glaring a hole into the side of her husband’s head. Xavier appeared unbothered and quite cocky as he grinned at the two of us.

  “Another one? You don’t miss, do you?” Damon cheered, slapping fives with Xavier.

  “Whatever.” Chanel waved them off.

  “Congratulations,” I told the couple, before dipping my eyes to stare at Chanel’s stomach, on instinct. From what I could tell she wasn’t quite sho
wing.

  “Thank you,” they both stated at the same time.

  “How you got your ol’ lady in a club while she’s with child?” Damon teased as the four of us sat down in two of the white leather lounge loveseats that sat opposite one another, with a low sitting black table in between.

  “You think I’ma let her out of my sight? Dudes don’t know how to act when they see a pregnant woman.”

  Chanel rolled her eyes. “The truth is, I’ve been in the house so much being sick from this pregnancy that once my medications had me feeling better, I made your boy take me out.”

  “Morning sickness?” I questioned.

  “Hyperemesis gravidarum,” Chanel responded, grimacing.

  I frowned. I’d heard of it but thank god I hadn’t experienced that level of sickness while pregnant with Monique.

  “Sick, pregnant and all, some of these clowns don’t know how to act. So, I keep my lady close,” Xavier added.

  I raised an eyebrow. Xavier did have a point, from what I could remember. When I was pregnant with Monique, I received noticeably more male attention. I wasn’t too thrilled with the extra attention.

  “Why is that?” I asked without thinking. I clamped my mouth shut when I found three pairs of eyes staring back at me.

  “Why is what?”

  I homed in on Damon’s distinctive eyes since I felt safest staring into his, and answered his question.

  “Men and pregnancy. Why are men more …”

  “Attentive,” Chanel intervened.

  I nodded in her direction, pointing. “Yes, attentive. Why are men, strangers no less, more attentive to pregnant women?”

  I felt Damon’s hand move to the back of my neck, cupping it gently. I had to fight hard not to lower my head and arch my back into his hold. We’re in public and that would be embarrassing, I reasoned.

  “You have experience in this, I take it?”

  I shrugged. “When I was pregnant with Monique …” I paused, glimpsing at the couple across from us. “I have a nine year old―”

  “Ten. She just turned ten,” Damon corrected.

  I laughed, turning back to Xavier and Chanel. “Her birthday was two weeks ago. I’m so used to calling her nine. Anyway.” I glanced back at Damon. “Yes, I did experience more attention when I was pregnant.” Unwanted attention but attention no less.

  “Shit. It’s in our DNA,” Xavier began. “I was all over Chanel when she was pregnant with the twins.”

  My eyes ballooned. “Twins?”

  “Right?” Chanel spoke up, side-eyeing her husband. “I gave this man not one but two babies for the price of one. Babies that look just like his ass, I might add. And he still had the nerve to beg me for more.”

  “Beg?” Xavier gave her an incredulous expression. “It didn’t take much begging once I put―”

  “Anyway,” Chanel stated loudly, turning to me, cutting her husband off.

  Both Damon and Xavier began laughing loudly. I covered my mouth, giggling also.

  “I need to go down to the bar. Sandra, would you like to come with me?” Chanel asked.

  Before I could even answer, Chanel’s husband intervened. “What do you need to go to the bar for? You’re not drinking, and anything you want, I can have the waitress bring up.”

  Chanel pressed a kiss to Xavier’s lips before standing. “I need to stretch my legs. I’ll just be a few minutes. You can see the bar from where you’re sitting. Calm down,” she insisted.

  I stood. “I’ll go,” I added, hoping that might calm Xavier down. Anyone could see he obviously had a protective side when it came to his wife.

  I turned to Damon who was giving me an inquisitive look. I hadn’t realized his hold at the back of my neck had tightened until I went to move away. It wasn’t a painful hold but possessive.

  “What you need at the bar?”

  I grinned and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips, much the same way Chanel had done to her husband when confronted with his possessiveness.

  “Walking Chanel. We’ll only be a minute, I’m sure.”

  His hand loosened but the frown on his face didn’t let up. I reached up on tiptoes and pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

  “Aren’t they pains in the asses?” Chanel questioned low in my ear, as we made our way to the stairs.

  I gave her a look, laughing.

  “I know, I know. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”

  To that, I nodded and continued following her to the bar.

  ****

  Damon

  I stared after Chanel and Sandra as they headed down the stairs that led from the VIP section of the club to the main dancefloor. While I was well aware that the club had all types of safety precautions and Sandra was safe in here, I still didn’t like the distance between us. Shit, that was becoming more and more commonplace. My chest would ache a little more each time I had to drop her off at her apartment, or she had to leave my place to get back home to hers.

  “You look like you got some shit on your mind.”

  I turned from the women who were now making their way through the crowd toward the bar, to look at Xavier. His dark eyes were pinned on me, just waiting for me to say whatever was on my mind. He took a sip of the glass of dark brown liquor he’d been sipping on, but his eyes never left mine.

  “Let me ask you something.” I motioned with my head before inching closer and planting my elbows on my thighs, leaning into him.

  His lips spread, as if to say he’d been waiting for this. He leaned closer as well, setting his glass on the napkin on the table.

  “What’s up?”

  “How did you know you’d fallen for Chanel?” It wasn’t a question that I’d even been thinking of asking until that very moment.

  “You think you’ve fallen in l—”

  I held up my hand. “I didn’t say all that.”

  Xavier lowered his head, chuckling.

  “The fuck is so funny?”

  He laughed harder. “Man, by the time you ask that question, you’re already gone.” He shook his head. “It just takes time for your head to catch up to that muscle at the center of your chest.”

  I frowned. “The fuck are you talking about?” This fool done went and got all Shakespeare or Rumi or some shit.

  He laughed some more. “Don’t even worry about it. But listen, I’ll answer your first question. I knew my wife was the one for me when I was ready to take her ex’s damn head off his shoulders for what he’d done to her.”

  I frowned, squinting. I remembered some time ago there’d been an article in some off brand gossip blog about Chanel and her ex-fiancé who was the son of a senator or some big time dude in Washington. Apparently, her ex had beat her up when they were together.

  I swallowed as my hands tightened into fists at the thought of Sandra’s ex doing something like that to her. From what I knew, she’d never been engaged to the man who’d gotten her pregnant. She was always tight-lipped about him. But the look in her eyes whenever I questioned her about him …

  “Yeah.”

  I glanced up to see Xavier pointing at me, glass in hand.

  “See how you’re feeling right now?” He gestured to my tightened fists. “That’s how I felt. It’s also how I knew. Still took me some time to get clear on it all though.”

  Sighing, I sat back, loosening my hands. I shook my head, shaking off my previous thoughts. “I need a drink.”

  Xavier chuckled again. “Shit, I do, too.” He held up his hand and waved for the waitress to bring a glass of whatever he was having over for me. “I don’t understand what the hell my wife needed to go all the way to the bar for when we have a waitress right here.”

  That reminded me that Sandra and Chanel were still over at the bar. I turned my head, eyes searching for the two women, or rather, the one woman I’d come with. I’m sure Xavier was looking for his own woman.

  I pushed out a breath of air when I spotted Sandra from behind. I licked my lips as
my eyes roamed down the back of her petite frame. The off-the-shoulder, loose fitting top was neatly tucked into the leather skirt that stopped a couple of inches above her knees. I was stunned into silence when she opened the door and I got a look at the outfit for the first time. She’d told me she had the skirt for months but hadn’t worn it. I was glad she’d chosen that night to put it on. And I’d be even more happy when I could peel it the fuck off her body.

  Just as I was imagining all of the things I’d do once that skirt was laying on my bedroom floor, a tall figure obstructed my view of the woman I’d been fantasizing about. My eyes narrowed and a possessive heat coursed through my abdomen. I didn’t even realize I was on my feet until I brusquely pushed past a waiter who was bounding up the stairs to the VIP section.

  “The fuck?” I heard curse behind me. I assumed it was Xavier but didn’t take the time to look or slow down long enough to find out. As I rounded the area from the stairs, my view of Sandra at the bar as she’d been standing next to Chanel, talking, was obstructed. I pushed past people on the dance floor, and as my view of Sandra cleared, I watched the clown I’d observed from the VIP section reach out and grab a handful of her ass in that leather skirt.

  Oh hell no!

  Just as I moved past the last couple that stood in between me and my intended target, I reached out to lay hands on this fool, but by the time I’d gotten there his ass was already laid out on the floor. I blinked, staring at the pile of shit that lay crumpled on the floor directly in front of me, holding his crotch in his hands as he writhed in pain.

  I lifted my gaze, raising my eyebrows in surprise to see an angry looking Sandra standing over the dude. She took one last look at the man on the ground before blinking and staring up at me. Within a few heartbeats, her anger subsided and she bit her bottom lip in that sexy ass way that she didn’t even know was sexy as all hell to me.

  I swallowed and lowered my head remembering that jackass on the floor had had the nerve to put his hands on her ass, and I managed to send a kick to his knee, before two of the bouncers were lifting him up to carry him outside.