Romance in Color

by Synithia Williams

  Patrice stepped forward, pressing her soft body against his firm one. “Controlling everything isn’t living.” Her fingers flexed along the back of his head; her thumbs caressed his cheeks. “Embrace life, Kareem. Embrace me.” Her voice cracked.

  Her soul cracked. She loved him. Hurt for him. Kareem held her heart in his hands. Hands that could change a man’s outlook with a set of shears. Hands that didn’t know how to be loving, affectionate, or tender. Hands that didn’t frighten her at all.

  She rose to her toes and pressed her lips against his. Like a statue, he didn’t move. Her heart hammered, and her nerves stretched thin. Kareem’s arms inched their way around her waist. Patrice slid her tongue across his lower lip.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered. Her eyes opened, met his unsure gaze. “Kiss me, Kareem.”

  His tongue made a slow sweep over his lips. Dark eyes, alive and burning with desire, lowered to her lips. Gradually, he tilted his head and pressed his lips against hers. Kareem’s tongue darted out, playing against hers in clumsy, unsure strokes that slowly turned into deep, confident sweeps. Patrice tasted the hint of cinnamon from the gum he preferred and inhaled the rich scent of shea butter.

  Kareem’s hands splayed against her back, massaging her pliable muscles. There was no rush, no urgency. Just a tentative exploration. An acceptance of something far deeper than just a kiss. She wanted the moment to last forever. To enjoy the firmness of his chest against her breasts and the strength of his legs brushing hers. Desire slowly rose, starting as a slow, slippery ache between her legs and growing to a roaring fire in her abdomen and chest.

  She ran her hands down his arms to clasp his hands in hers, and pulled him backwards toward the bed.

  “Make love to me, Kareem,” she said against his lips.

  She sat on the bed and slid backwards. Kareem watched her for a second, then crawled over her, blocking everything but his deep penetrating stare. Slowly, they undressed each other. Each inch of skin she revealed, Kareem kissed, tasting her body, unhurried and reverent in a way she’d never seen before. Long, thick fingers massaged her breasts, and full, warm lips kissed the flesh before pulling the pert tips into the deep wonder of his mouth. His hands skimmed across the skin on her thighs to play in the slippery wetness between them. Flashes of desire flickered from the tips of her breasts to the ends of her toes.

  Leisurely, Kareem spread her legs wide and pushed her knees upward. He eased into her, thick and hard, stretching her muscles in a delicious way. His eyes never left hers. Sliding her fingers through the springy softness of his dreads, she cupped the back of his head and pulled him down. There was a slight tension in his neck, before he relaxed. There was no hesitation with this kiss. Just sure, bold strokes of the tongue that matched the strokes of his hips.

  Kareem moaned, not a rough, deep groan, but a low, awed sound that seemed pulled from deep within. It radiated through her, bringing life and love deep into Patrice’s soul. Her legs clasped his waist, and drew him closer, deeper.

  Her eyes flew open as the pound of the orgasm exploded. “Kareem!” she cried against his lips.

  His head flew back, his body flexed, and he jerked deep inside of her with his own orgasm. Kareem lowered his forehead to hers, his eyes narrow slits that bore into hers. The corner of his mouth raised, a simple smile that made her heart flip.

  “I’m giving you more, Neecie,” he said between heavy breaths. Then slanted his head and kissed her again.

  CHAPTER 25

  The next morning, Patrice smiled, stretched, and reached for Kareem on the other side of the bed. Emptiness met her hand. Disappointment chased away the smile.

  “I’m right here,” Kareem said and the bed dipped behind her. His warm hand clasped her shoulder and pulled her onto her back.

  Kareem’s dreads hung around his face, and his black wife beater clung to the thick muscles of his chest.

  Patrice’s grinned and she ran her hand across his thigh. “But you aren’t lying beside me.”

  Kareem twisted one of her loose kinks around his finger. “I’m not used to sleeping beside someone.”

  “There are plenty of perks to waking up next to someone.”

  “I bet there are.” He unwound her hair from his finger then tapped her chin. “I’m going to Columbia today to check on the shop. I’ll probably stay overnight and check in on my parents. Want to ride?”

  Patrice nodded, then she remembered the date. “I wish, but I can’t. The fashion show I’m supposed to work for Lorelei is tomorrow night. How long will you be gone?”

  He rose from the bed. “Just a night or two.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come to the show?”

  He cringed but softened the look with an upturned corner of his mouth. “I’ll give you my secrets, but don’t ask me to go to a fashion show.”

  Patrice giggled and tried, unsuccessfully, to picture Kareem sitting along the side of a runway admiring clothes. “I think we’ll agree on that.” Patrice slid up in bed and leaned against the headboard. “Did you really want me to go?”

  He shrugged and pulled some of his things together. “It would’ve been cool. But if you stay, I don’t have to worry about your toeprints on my windshield.”

  She tossed her pillow at him, and he grabbed it in mid-air. Kareem chuckled, and the easy, relaxed sound sent happy caresses down her spine. She felt the shift in their relationship. A subtle shift, but enough for her to notice he felt something more than lust. A week ago she would have considered herself crazy for believing Kareem was falling in love with her, but today she felt confident in that very thing.

  Kareem grabbed his overnight bag and dropped it on the end of the bed. “Maybe I’ll bring my bike back and take you for a ride.” He got a few items out of the drawer and dropped them along with his sketch pad next to the bag.

  “I’d love that. I’ve never ridden a bike before.”

  “Then we’ll have to fix that.” He strolled over to the bathroom door. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Kareem smiled at her and went into the bathroom. A giddy buzzing invaded her insides. Tossing back the sheet, Patrice hopped out of bed and put on the pajamas tossed on the floor from the night before. She stretched her hands over her head. When she dropped her hands, her eyes landed on the sketch pad.

  The shower came on, and she glanced at the door. Patrice tiptoed to the foot of the bed and ran her finger across the notebook’s worn leather. Her foot twisted against the carpet and anticipation zipped through her in short quick bursts. What did he draw all the time that was so important but still made him go out of his way to close the book whenever someone was around?

  Patrice spun away from the bed. Nope, she would not invade his privacy. He’d opened up to her, and if he wanted her to know what he drew then he would show her.

  What if he drew you?

  She swiveled back toward the bed and flipped open the front cover.

  Her heart disintegrated. Pictures of Sandra filled the first page. Sketches of her in suits and dresses. In the center a picture of her with tears in her eyes. Another with her giving a flirty look from beneath lowered lashes.

  The bathroom door opened. She snatched her hand away and twisted her fingers in the back of the pajama top. Facing Kareem, his gaze zoomed from her to the notebook. He still wore pajama bottoms but had lost the shirt. Kareem stalked across the room to stand next to her. Dark eyes left her face to focus on the open sketchbook. His lips tightened and thick brows drew together.

  “Do you love her?” she blurted out, then cringed. Stupid! Making demands after you’re caught snooping.

  “At one time I thought I could, but I don’t.”

  She licked dry lips and pushed the hair behind her ears. “But you drew her.”

  “Once,” he said. “Look at the other pages.”

  With trembling fingers she flipped the pages. Pictures of his shop, the guys, his family, and his bike. She smiled at a bea
utiful sketch of Janiyah and her husband Fredrick. She flipped again and sucked in a breath. A picture of her laughing behind her station at Fresh Cutz covered an entire page. She flipped again. Another with her hair twisted and curly, piled on her head like a crown, and a sparkle in her eye that she’d never seen before. The next page was a collage of her eyes, lips, wrists, and tattooed foot. All of the pages after were of her: at her parents’ party, in the rose garden, in the lounge, in bed sleeping.

  Kareem placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her back against his chest. “I drew Sandra once because I thought I was falling for her. I hate myself for a lot of things, including wanting my brother’s woman at one time. But I don’t hate myself for wanting you. You’re all of the good things I never thought I deserved.”

  He turned her to face him. His face was hard lines and seriousness. “Last night was my attempt to try and make this thing between us real. I want you, Neecie. I don’t deserve you, but I don’t want to lose you.”

  Patrice wrapped her arms around his neck, even more confident in the hope that he loved her as well. “First, stop saying you don’t deserve me. Because I can’t think of anyone who deserves to be happy—” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Who deserves someone who’ll love him and accept him for all of his past mistakes more than you. There’s no need to continue to punish yourself.”

  One side of his sexy mouth lifted in a half grin and his hand brushed up and down her back. “So we’re in this.”

  She lifted up on her toes and his strong arms pulled her against his firm body. Desire slid down her spine, and his answering response rose against her stomach.

  Patrice kissed him and whispered, “I’m all in.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Patrice reached for a cupcake, but a cool hand on her forearm stopped her. She turned away from snack table set up for the participants in Lorelei’s fashion show and met the reproachful stare of her mother.

  The show was over, and Patrice had enjoyed herself, despite Lorelei’s finger snapping at everyone. Now people hung out backstage chatting and making plans for after parties. Patrice just wanted to go home, kick off her shoes, and relax.

  “The ones from Sweets Bakery are much better,” Janice said.

  Patrice understood the real meaning: don’t eat the cupcake. She gave Janice a tight smile. “These are the ones that are here, Mother.”

  Janice pulled Patrice away from the snack table and out of earshot. “I just don’t want you to regret it later.” Janice’s voice was filled with concern.

  “Doubtful, but if I were to regret it you don’t have to worry I’d hurt myself.”

  “I didn’t worry before and you did hurt yourself.”

  Patrice froze mid spin toward the snack table. She met her mother’s pinched stare. “Mother, I’m okay.”

  Janice ran a slim hand across the chignon at the back of her head. “Patrice, I’m only trying to help. I ignored the signs before, and I don’t want to do the same now. Is Kareem aware of your past … circumstance?”

  Patrice’s heart skipped in her chest. “No, and I don’t want him to know. He has enough troubles without worrying about something that’s no longer an issue.”

  Janice’s disbelief was painted over her face. “If you’re going to marry the man, he should know. What if you relapse—”

  “I’m not going to relapse!”

  Janice snapped her lips shut, and Patrice felt guilty for raising her voice. “I’m sorry, Mother. I’m not that person anymore. He never met the weaker version of me, and I don’t want him to. Can we just leave it at that?”

  Janice’s head did a curt nod. Patrice didn’t know what else there was to say. Kareem had enough to deal with and didn’t need her tossing her old burdens at his feet.

  “You did a great job tonight,” Janice said, in a pleased as punch voice. “I think you’d really have a shot working for Lorelei long-term.”

  “Lorelei snaps her fingers at her employees and calls them fluffy. That doesn’t make working for her an appealing long-term plan.”

  “But it is a great starting point. There are so many opportunities she would open up for you.”

  Beth breezed over looking like an angel in an A-line white dress that gracefully draped to her slim figure. She slipped her arm through Patrice’s. “Excuse me, Mother, but I need to borrow Neecie for a second.”

  Janice’s arched brows formed a line over her eyes. “Please call her Patrice, Beth.”

  “Of course, Mother.” Janice waved a hand, and Beth quickly whisked Patrice away.

  “What did you need to borrow me for?”

  “To keep you from blowing up and embarrassing you and our mother,” Beth said with a smile.

  “That obvious?”

  “To me, yes.” Beth pulled on Patrice’s arm. “What was the problem?”

  “Nothing, really,” Patrice said, tugging on one of the curls that escaped the ponytail she’d tried to tame her hair with. “She’s worried I’ll overeat and purge later.”

  Beth’s face turned somber. “None of us want that to happen.”

  “Neither do I.”

  Beth placed her hands over Patrice’s, which were pulling at the waistband of her houndstooth skirt. “Don’t let Mother get to you. She’s worried about you.”

  “I know, and I’ll apologize later.”

  Beth’s radiant smile was full of understanding. “Just give her time. She’ll realize you’re not the person you were before you left. She ignored the signs before; of course she’ll be extra diligent now.”

  “When did you become so understanding? I’m supposed to be the big sister giving advice.”

  Beth let out a light laugh and leaned back. “Sisterly advice can come from younger siblings as well.” Beth’s smile slowly faded, and she became serious. “Which is why I want to talk with you about Kareem.”

  “Beth, let’s not go there. Kareem and I are good.”

  “I know you say that, but Chad is worried. He thinks Kareem treats you like a mistress, not a fiancée.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I know you love him,” Beth said in a pensive voice. “And I can tell he cares, but I still worry.”

  “I thought you liked him.”

  “I do, but remember what I said. He’s a Johnny, not a husband.” Beth clasped Patrice’s hands when Patrice opened her mouth to argue. “Men like that don’t change. They’re like feral cats. You can feed them, and they’ll hang around the house for a while, but eventually they roam again. He’s been through things, and even if he wants to settle down and be a good husband, can he really do that? For ten, twenty, fifty years?”

  Patrice wanted to argue he could, but his confessions about what happened in prison, his thoughts on intimacy and love, blocked the words.

  One of their mother’s longtime associates, Delores Humbridge, who also helped plan the event, walked over. “Hello, girls!” Delores’s nasal-infused giggle chased her words. She turned wide eyes on Patrice. “I hear you’re behind that new gentlemen’s lounge.”

  Patrice nodded, pleased to hear word about the lounge was getting around. “My fiancé is opening the place. I’m working with him.”

  Delores’s face twisted until she resembled a pug. “I heard you’ll offer goods besides haircuts.”

  Something about her tone set Patrice on alert. “What goods are you referring to?”

  “Pretty girls, willing to please rich men for a price.”

  Patrice’s entire body flinched, and her mouth fell open. Delores couldn’t be serious. “I can assure you that is not the case. We’re opening a high-end barber shop and cigar lounge, nothing more.”

  “Well,” Delores said, still looking like an angry pug. “I truly hope Judge Baldwin’s daughter wouldn’t be involved in something that sordid.”

  “Where did you hear this?” Patrice asked.

  “I don’t remember offhand. Someplace. Hearing the opposite from you makes me feel somewhat better. Let’s hope you’r
e correct.”

  “I am correct. I know what my fiancé and I are opening, and it’s not a fancy escort service.”

  The sour look on Delores’s face finally relaxed into the semblance of a smile. “Good. If that’s the case, I won’t mind if my Melvin stops by.” She waved a hand. “Have a good evening, girls.”

  Patrice spun to Beth, her body shaking with suppressed anger. “Can you believe that? Have you heard anything so crazy?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get Lad to ask around and see if he’s heard something similar. We’ll clear everything up.”

  Patrice nodded and stared across the room to where Delores now spoke with her mother and Lorelei. She had to find out the source of that particular rumor and squash it. She refused to let lies ruin Kareem’s dream.

  • • •

  Patrice grinned at the checker board and slapped her hands together. “King me!”

  Roland lifted his eyes heavenward, and the rest of her family sprawled around the Baldwin sitting room laughed.

  “I never could beat you in checkers,” he said, shaking his head and grinning.

  Patrice reached over and pinched his cheek the same way she’d done after beating him when they were younger. “And you never will.”

  Chad strolled over from the fireplace to stare down at the checker board on the table between Patrice and Roland. He raised a brow then shrugged.

  “You might as well quit now, Roland,” Chad said.

  Beth hopped up from the sofa and skipped over. She wrapped an arm around Patrice’s shoulder. “I love it when a man admits defeat.”

  “Hey!” Lad said, sitting in one of the chairs framing the fireplace. Milton occupied the other, while Janice and Melena talked on the sofa.

  Beth blew him a kiss. “All in good fun, sweetie.”

  Patrice raised one shoulder and leaned across the table toward Roland. “No quitting. I want to beat you fair and square.”

  “I always loved your bloodthirsty competitiveness,” he said lightly, but the spark in his eye sent a wave of unease through Patrice.