by Kennedy Ryan
He leans in to cup my face with one big hand, his palm rough, his touch gentle against my skin. “I don’t think it will be easy, Tru. I just know it will be worth it.”
He closes the last few inches between our lips, rubbing his thumb across mine and then kissing me in that deep, drugging way that makes every thought flee my head. There’s no room for anything else but this sensation, this man.
“Dammit, Tru,” he whispers into the kiss. “I want you again right now.”
He pulls my hand down to his lap so I can feel the hard truth between his legs. I take him in my hand through his pants and squeeze, roll up and down slowly, torturously.
“Shit,” he hisses at my temple. “Making out in my car and getting a hand job in front of your mom’s place certainly feels like something we missed in high school.”
I laugh and trail my lips over to his ear.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
The loud rapping on the passenger-side window startles us apart. Keith stands beside the car, arms folded, smirking. He gestures for me to roll the window down. With a frustrated sigh, I do.
“Hey, Tru,” he drawls. “It’s kind of tacky doing this shit in broad daylight in front of Mama’s house.”
“What do you want?” I growl at him, my eyes narrowed to slits.
“What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t intervene when I saw my sister doing something wrong?”
“Wrong?” I shake my head. “Have you been drinking? I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He leans forward just enough to catch Ezra’s stony eyes. “I thought I saw you at Daddy’s funeral with a wife and a kid, Stern. And from what I’m hearing, you’re a rising star in the community.”
“Ezra, goodbye,” I say, reaching for the door handle.
“Kimba,” Ezra says, frowning. “I can—”
“He’s just pushing my buttons. I’m gonna go, Ez,” I tell him softly. “We’ll talk later.”
He stares at Keith through the window, his eyes hard and cold as glass.
“Keith, go,” I say, not turning to make sure he complied but reaching past Ezra to roll up the window.
“We weren’t doing anything wrong,” Ezra says immediately, cupping my face again. “You know that.”
“Yeah, but no one else does.” I shake my head and sigh. “Until this is all sorted and in the open, we can’t be seen together like this. Anyone who knows you will assume you’re cheating on Aiko. I don’t want to tarnish your reputation that way, or for it to get back to Noah somehow.”
He nods, but a heavy frown mars the smooth line of his brow. “Yeah, I know. You’re right, but I’m not giving you up for the little time we have before you go back on the trail.”
“If I’m going on the trail. Ruiz may not even hire me. He has someone else he’s considering.”
“Then he’s a fool.”
“You might be the slightest bit biased, Dr. Stern.”
“If you mean infatuated,” he says, laying a quick kiss on my lips, “enthralled, blinded by your beauty, then yes.”
“Beauty, huh?” I flip down his visor mirror.
My hair is a snarly nest of curls, pressed straight in some spots. I splashed my face, but the color of the lipstick Ezra smeared from my lips is still faintly visible around my mouth.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my words. “My beauty is blinding.”
He takes my face between his hands, his eyes sober. “I could look at this face forever.”
Forever.
At six years old, it was nothing to slip a ring, still cold from the fridge, onto my finger and say the words that would bind me to that boy all my days. The simplicity of it contrasts starkly with the twisting road that lies ahead of us as adults.
“I better go.”
With one finger, he tips my face back around and then kisses me. He tastes like French toast and possibilities, and I’m ravenous. In seconds, my hand is back on his dick and his fingers are under my skirt, begging entrance at the edge of my panties. He slips one finger under, inside.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my mouth. “How are you this wet already?”
Vaginal dryness, my ass.
I shift my hips just enough to create friction, ease the ache. He thumbs my clit and my mouth falls open. My thighs spread. My nipples harden in the bodice of my gown.
“Lord above,” I gasp, pulling his zipper down and slipping my hand inside his pants.
“Shit.” He presses his forehead to mine.
A car rushes by, shattering any illusion of privacy. We sit in the front seat, panting, reaching for some form of composure. His finger is still inside me, and he’ll have to remove it because for the life of me I cannot bring myself to ask him to. It feels too good.
“I should go,” I say for the millionth time, but make no move to do anything that would actually dislodge him from my body.
“Yeah.” He nods and huffs a laugh. “You said Lord above.”
“What? When?”
“When I was…” He pushes his finger in a little deeper, making me moan. He slowly withdraws. “When I was doing that, you said Lord above like your mother used to say.”
“Yeah, I do that sometimes.”
“Can I see you tonight?” he presses. “Will you stay?”
“Ez, maybe I shouldn’t until we—”
“We’ll be discreet. I can come pick you up.”
“That is not discreet.” I pause, biting my lip. “I’ll take an Uber.”
“Okay. I’ll cook dinner.” He moves forward to kiss me again, but I lean back, glancing around the empty street. “Tonight.”
It seems to require a Herculean effort for me to get out of his car. The pull, the temptation to stay there with him for as long as I can, is strong. After so many years apart, when we’re together, it feels like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. All my molecules, every atom, is at peace, but stingingly alive. It’s like when your foot falls asleep, and the needles of sensation come with sudden movement. For so long he wasn’t in my life, and suddenly he is. And beneath the layers of pleasure and delight, there is a sick feeling that just as suddenly as I found him, I’ll lose him again.
“Tonight,” I say, smiling through the window and turning to walk up Mama’s long driveway.
He doesn’t pull off until I’m inside, and I immediately wish he was here. Mama and Keith are both in the front room waiting for me.
“Well, well, well,” Keith says from the white couch in Mama’s sitting room. “Look who’s home.”
Mama always had a “front room” when we were growing up, which we would use under threat of severe punishment. Now we’re adult enough to sit on the white furniture, but it seems Keith still wants to play childish games.
“Keith,” Mama says, her tone much milder than the curiosity in her eyes. “Leave your sister alone. If she wants to cavort with a married man in front of the entire neighborhood, what business is it of ours?”
“I was not cavorting,” I say, running a weary hand over my bushy hair. “And Ezra’s not married.”
“The way you look,” Keith says with obvious relish, “you can’t tell me you haven’t been doing some cavorting, and I’ve seen the woman he lives with and his son. I just hope you don’t…how did you put it…tarnish our father’s legacy too badly.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, but with less heat than I would if he didn’t have some ground to stand on. Guilt twinges my conscience as I remember those little pink slippers under the bed. I glance down at my owned ruined stilettos. If the Choo fits…
“I’m not judging you, Kimba,” he says, the spiteful amusement leaving his expression. “I’m just asking you not to judge me, especially for something I’ve dealt with. Delaney and me, we’re working on it.”
Working on it.
That’s what Ezra said he and Aiko did, but that’s over. He’s done ‘working on it,’ and he admitted he may have started giving up after we me
t again.
“Monday.” I pull one desecrated Jimmy Choo off and then the other, standing barefoot and holding them by the heels. “I’ll meet you at your office Monday morning. Nine o’clock. You better have a plan. The people of this district deserve real solutions, and if you can’t prove to me you have some, I promise both of you…” I pause to include Mama in my warning glance. “There’s not enough sibling goodwill or guilt in this world to make me help your ass.”
“Fair enough, sis,” Keith says, his smile wide and genuine. “And sorry for cock blocking.”
“It was not clock blocking,” I say indignantly.
He raises knowing brows, and I remember Ezra’s prominent erection. Okay. Maybe there was some cock.
“I’m going to shower,” I settle on saying, turning toward the stairs.
My phone rings when I reach my bedroom and I pull it from the clutch.
Piers.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask, walking into the room decorated in shades of ivory and gold.
“I have something that could be big,” he says. “On Colson.”
He sounds like a cop who’s been on a stakeout all night and has finally gotten some movement. The excitement in his voice has me coming to a halt, my toes digging into the thick carpet.
“Go on.”
“I found several female executives who’d been fired or departed abruptly from one of Colson’s companies or another for suspicious reasons.”
“Okay. And?”
“And I started digging. They cited a toxic workplace culture.”
“Toxic how? Piers, roll it out faster.”
“They were all black women who claimed to have been fired or left his companies because they’d been asked to change their hair.”
“Their hair? Change it how?”
“They were told their hairstyle was ‘too black’ and asked to find a style more appropriate for the corporate culture. Some of them complied and spoke out after they found new positions. Some didn’t and found themselves with low scores at their next performance evaluation, and eventually pushed out altogether.”
Outrage on behalf of those women bubbles up inside of me. Outrage and understanding. I know what that’s like. Working in politics in DC, I know what it’s like to feel like the token and expected to speak on behalf of an entire community. I also know what it’s like to press and perm myself into the form most likely to succeed.
“I figure if Ruiz hires us,” Piers says, “we can use this against Colson in the general.”
“Oh, no, my friend. This is how we convince Ruiz he should hire us now. Our contact over in the CNN newsroom—we still have her?”
“We have several,” he says dryly. “We did elect the sitting president.”
I swallow the nerves that always threaten to rear when I have to speak in public. It used to be that I could shove Lennix out front and avoid the spotlight, but now it’s just me. Congressman Ruiz and the rest of the world seem to doubt that I can stand on my own. But this is no time to doubt myself.
Like Mama says, I descend from queens.
“Feed her this story,” I tell him, walking over to my closet to see if I have a particular jumpsuit from Lotus’ summer collection. “Then tell her I want to come on.”
“You do?” Piers’ astonishment is clear. Everyone knows how much I hate the camera.
“I do. Make it happen.”
I hang up without waiting for a response and immediately dial Kayla.
“’Bout time you called,” she says by way of greeting. “This is what you always do. You disappear.”
“Can we fight and make up later? I need your help.”
Those are magic words. The mother in her can’t resist desperation. “What’s up?”
“You still have that great stylist? The one who specializes in natural hair?”
“Lorette, yeah. Why? You need her?”
I touch my tangled cloud of hair. “Yeah. Bad.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ezra
“Uh, maybe another two weeks.” I run a weary hand over my face and adjust my wireless headphones. “I can have the final draft to you then.”
“Oh, good.” Sienna, my editor, sounds relieved. “We’re so excited about this book, Ezra. The sooner we can get early copies out, the better.”
“I’m excited, too.” I close my laptop and lean back in my seat.
“No, like, we’re really excited. We’re talking Oprah’s Book Club level excited. We can’t wait to get this to her team. To Reese. All the libraries.”
“Whoa. Okay. I didn’t realize there would be such a…a push.”
“Are you kidding? Disadvantaged kids. Philanthropy. Quality education. This is Lean On Me stuff.”
“I’m no Morgan Freeman and there are no baseball bats in my book.” I chuckle. “But I’m glad you feel good about it.”
“Not to mention you.”
“Me? What about me?”
“Your own story is fascinating. Biracial. Jewish. Grew up here in Atlanta then off to Europe. Howard. UCLA for your doctorate. Returning to your roots to do good. Perfect set up.”
“We’ll see.”
“I already know,” Sienna says. “Let’s check in next week. Loved what you showed me so far and can’t wait to read the rest.”
“Great.”
When we hang up, I glance around my home office and just absorb all the good in my life. A book I wrote is being published. I wouldn’t have imagined that. My dream of serving families struggling to access quality education has more than come true. It’s thriving. I pick up one of the pictures on my desk of Aiko, Noah and me. I have a remarkable son for whom I’d do anything. And Aiko…
I’m almost there. Almost completely free and clear to start a new chapter with Kimba. Nothing will stop that. Not this time.
“It’s just me!”
The door to the backyard slams and Mona’s footsteps pound through the mudroom.
And stop.
I leave the office and head toward the kitchen. Mona’s standing in the mudroom, holding one of the shimmery wings from the dress Kimba wore last night.
“Guess she didn’t go straight home,” Mona says. “When Janet’s away, Jack and Chrissy will play.”
“It’s not like that,” I say, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter.
“Oh, so you didn’t fuck her?” Mona and I stare at each other, stewing in the silence left behind by her intrusive question.
“That’s none of your business, Mo,” I say softly, trying to keep my voice even, even though her comment annoys me.
“Since when?” she demands, an answering irritation in her voice. “You and Aiko are my friends. Noah is practically my godson. I love you all. I love Kimba. I don’t want to see any of you get hurt.”
“There are things you don’t know.” I draw a deep breath and then plunge ahead. “Aiko and I broke up.”
“I heard.”
“You heard? Where?”
“From Kimba after a bottle of wine. I’m sure she didn’t mean to tell me. Blame it on the alcohol and half an edible.”
“Oh.” I hate awkward shit like this. “Well then, you know that whatever happens between Kimba and me, which is our business and not yours, is not cheating.”
“Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes and hopping up onto the counter. “Good luck with this throuple thing you’re doing with Ko and Kimba.”
“Throuple?”
“Yeah, it’s like the three of you as a couple.”
I bark out a laugh. “We are not a throuple.”
“A threesome?” She waggles her eyebrows. “The only threesome I’ve ever been in is me, Ben and Jerry, but I’m wide open.”
“Definitely not a threesome.” My smile disintegrates. “I only want Kimba.”
She closes her eyes and pulls her locs over one shoulder, the move I’ve come to realize means she’s about to lay something on the line. “I hope you know what you’re doing, my brother. Your son do
esn’t even know you and his mother are breaking up, and you’re already sleeping with Kimba.”
“And Aiko was already sleeping with Chaz.”
“Chaz?” Mona’s whole expression perks up. “The cutie who went with her on the trip? That’s who she’s hitting? Nice.”
I give her the most longsuffering look I can muster.
“I mean, sorry.” She covers her mouth, but I still see the grin peeking through.
“This isn’t funny, Mo.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” Her expression sobers. “Isn’t this all happening really fast? I mean, you just saw Kimba again two weeks ago.”
“I saw her at her father’s funeral.” I shove my fingers through my hair and drag them over my face. “I knew then.”
“Knew what then?” Mona’s eyes narrow and she frowns.
“That what was between us before—”
“When you were children, Ezra. You hadn’t seen Kimba since you were thirteen years old. Come on.”
“It doesn’t matter. I know it sounds crazy to you, but until I left Atlanta, I was closer to her than to anyone else. When we couldn’t find each other, yeah, we moved on. That happens when people grow up. They grow apart, but that closeness didn’t die. It was just…waiting for us to find each other again.”
“And you think she feels it, too?”
“I know she does. We didn’t exchange numbers at the funeral because she saw Noah and Aiko, and she knew if we stayed in touch…” I don’t finish that sentence. I don’t have to. The strip of Kimba’s dress in her hand completes that thought.
“Kimba would never cheat,” I say. “Neither would I.”
“I just want to go on record saying I still don’t think it’s wise.” Mona hops off the counter. “I think you should have given it a little more time. At least until Aiko’s back and Noah knows.”
“Kimba will be going back to D.C. by then. I didn’t want to wait. Aiko didn’t wait.” I give her the look that I hope shuts this conversation down. “I shouldn’t have to, either.”
Chapter Thirty-Three