The Dating Playbook

by Farrah Rochon

  When she returned to the sofa, her phone chimed with a FaceTime call from Jamar.

  “Hey,” she answered with a heavy sigh.

  “Damn. Did you get a dog and have it die on you while I wasn’t looking?”

  “I would laugh at that, but it wasn’t funny,” she said. She held up the paper. “I have to leave my apartment.”

  “What? Why?”

  She read the note to him.

  “At least they’re paying for a hotel,” Taylor said. “Unfortunately, it’s not a very nice one. I’ve passed it a couple of times when I had to take an alternate route through the not so nice part of town to get home.”

  Jamar was silent, his face unreadable.

  “What?” Taylor asked.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re thinking,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, I do that from time to time.”

  “Smart-ass.” She snorted. “Care to share?”

  He paused for a moment, then asked, “Why don’t you stay here?”

  She was sure she’d heard him wrong. “Excuse me?”

  “I have the room. In fact, I have seven rooms, along with a pool house that’s basically a private apartment. You can stay there if that makes you more comfortable.”

  Oh, he was not playing fair. That pool house was ten times nicer than her little studio.

  “Jamar, I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Do you want me to list the reasons why this idea is straight up banana pants? How much time do you have?”

  “What does banana pants even mean? I swear, it’s like you speak another language.” He chuckled. “Look, I already know what you’re going to say.”

  “Really? Why don’t you tell me?”

  He held up a hand, ticking items off with his fingers. “You’re going to say that we haven’t known each other long enough for you to move into my house. You’re probably also going to point out that it would be unprofessional.”

  “Damn, you’re pretty good at that. That’s exactly what I was going to say, because both are true.”

  He was shaking his head. “Either of those would be good excuses if you were still my fitness instructor, or if we would be living under the same roof. Since we already established that you’ll stay in the pool house, and since you fired me as a client, none of that matters.”

  “I did not fire you. We agreed to terminate our working relationship.” She paused, then asked, “You would really let me stay in your pool house? Rent-free?”

  “Hell no. You have to cough up some cash if you want to stay here. Of course, rent-free.” He didn’t even give her a chance to call him a smart-ass this time. “It would make up for you not allowing me to cover your hospital bill.”

  “Except that you did pay it,” Taylor pointed out.

  “It would make up for the grief you gave me over covering your hospital bill,” he amended.

  She rolled her eyes at his attempt to be sarcastic.

  Taylor knew she should be grateful for his offer. She was grateful. Extremely grateful, especially if it meant she could pocket the money the property management was providing for lodging. But Taylor also knew she would be remiss if she didn’t point out the staggeringly obvious elephant in the room.

  “Jamar, have you thought about the…uh…complications that could…” She was about to say arise, but that probably wasn’t the best word to use in this particular conversation. Come was even worse. “That could occur if the two of us live so close to each other?”

  “I only thought about that after I’d already asked you,” he admitted. “Look, I know ignoring this…this attraction between us may be difficult, but I can control myself.”

  “Yay for you,” she muttered. “Maybe you can teach me how to do it.”

  She felt his deep chuckle through the phone. It sent a tingle through parts of her body that had no business getting tingly.

  “I think we can both control ourselves enough to make this work,” Jamar said. “And think about it this way. You staying here makes it easier to pull off the idea that we’re dating. Maybe the Instacouples crowd will report that we’re getting serious.”

  “Oh, my parents will just love to hear that I’ve moved in with a man after dating him for less than a month.”

  “Do your parents know about us? I mean the part about us dating? Supposedly dating?”

  “I assume they do, even though neither have asked me about it. My niece texted me one of the videos of us that’s been circulating.”

  He hesitated a moment before asking, “Do you want to tell them the truth?”

  “Would you be okay with that?”

  “Maybe. I guess. Just ask them not to say anything if TMZ comes calling.”

  Taylor burst out laughing. “I’m imagining my dad’s face if he saw me on TMZ.” She shook her head. “I don’t think we need to say anything. Let them think I scored myself a hot football player.”

  His brow rose. “So is that a yes?”

  Taylor considered all the reasons why she shouldn’t take him up on his offer, the most obvious being that it was the height of unprofessionalism to be reduced to bunking on a client’s couch—no matter how nice the couch or that it came with its own kitchen and bathroom. Or that he, technically, wasn’t a client anymore.

  The real issue was whether she could survive the constant state of horniness she would be forced to deal with if she agreed to this.

  For the two thousand dollars she would pocket by not having to stay in a hotel? Hell yes! She just had to make sure she packed her new vibrator.

  Great, now the thought of using her vibrator with Jamar just a few yards away made her horny enough to have to use the damn thing right this second. She really should say no to this.

  Yet, Taylor found herself saying, “Okay.”

  “Okay?” It was obvious by the sheer surprise in his voice that he’d expected her to turn down his offer. Relief swept across his face. “Okay,” he repeated. “I’ll be there to pick you up in an hour.”

  “Make it two hours. My ankle is doing much better, but I’m still moving like a sloth. It’s going to take me a while to get my things together.”

  “Don’t. I’ll pack for you when I get there.”

  Oh, sure. She could only imagine his reaction when she asked him to throw in an extra set of batteries to go along with the hardware she kept in the drawer of her bedside table. That wouldn’t be awkward at all.

  “I’m not helpless. I can pack my own bag,” Taylor said. “And, Jamar?”

  “Yeah?”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  He smiled back. “No problem. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  The minute she ended their video call, she rang Samiah and London and said, “Okay, ladies. I need to talk.”

  “Have you come to your senses?” Samiah asked. “Daniel can be there to pick you up in a half hour.”

  “I’m moving in with Jamar,” Taylor blurted.

  “What!” Samiah shouted.

  “Girl, I was joking when I talked about you two getting married,” London said.

  She explained the situation with her moldy apartment building and that she would be staying in Jamar’s pool house.

  “Rent-free?” London asked. “This sounds like the perfect setup for you. What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that I want to ride him like a contender at the Kentucky Derby,” Taylor said.

  “Again, what’s the problem?”

  Taylor rolled her eyes. “Come on, Samiah. You’re my voice of reason. Am I making a mistake here?”

  “I don’t know about this one, chick. It is an ideal setup. You just have to make sure you’re ready for whatever happens.”

  “My suggestion is that you don’t just let it happen,” London said. “Go there knowing what you want and make it happen.”

  Again, Taylor rolled her eyes. But the more she thought about it, the more intriguing she found London’s advice.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


  Taylor sat in the cushioned rattan armchair and tracked Jamar’s movements as he moved from one area of the pool house to another. He’d been at this for the past twenty minutes, pointing out every available feature. He picked up the electronic tablet from a stand on the coffee table and swiped his finger across the screen.

  “This controls everything from the lights to the television to the thermostat, just like the one in the main house. You’ve used it before, right?” He pressed something, and the ceiling fan started to twirl lazily above them. With another swipe, taupe window shades began to lower inside the double-paned floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned the side of the structure that faced the Olympic-size pool.

  “It’s all pretty easy to operate,” he said, reversing the window shades with another swipe of his finger. “If you need help, just call. I’m…you know…right there.” He hooked a thumb toward the main house.

  “I will,” Taylor said. She started a mental countdown to see how long it would take him to find something else to point out.

  He snapped his fingers. “Oh, and converting the sofa into a bed is pretty easy too. You just pull this out.” He tugged on a metal bar Taylor hadn’t even noticed protruding unobtrusively from the bottom of the sofa. He glanced over at her wrapped ankle. “Actually, it’s probably better if you call me to pull it out for you when you’re ready to go to bed.”

  Oh, of course. Because having him inhabit her space just before she slipped into bed would be no problem at all. He must be delirious.

  “I think I can handle it,” Taylor said.

  “Well, okay, then.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Um, about dinner. I plan to heat up the quinoa and grilled chicken you made for me. There’s two of them in there. I can bring one for you.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “Actually, I’m not a fan of quinoa.”

  “So why are you making me eat it?”

  Taylor waved off his indignation. “Because it’s a healthier alternative to rice. Now, I’ll take the green chili enchiladas if you have any of those left.”

  He shook his head, a rueful grin on his face. “I’ll check.” He took a step toward the sliding glass door but then turned back to her. “The bathroom. It has fresh towels, but if you need—”

  “I’ll call you,” Taylor said, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. One thing she had not counted on was Jamar Dixon being outrageously adorable when flustered.

  She stood and, using one of the crutches—even though she was pretty sure she didn’t need them anymore—started for the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?” Jamar asked.

  “To get a glass of water.”

  “I can do that for you.”

  “I can get my own water, Jamar.” But by the time she traversed the half dozen or so yards to the kitchen, he was already filling a glass from the refrigerator’s dispenser. He held it out to her.

  Setting the crutch to the side, Taylor grabbed the glass from him and took a sip.

  “You do realize that I will have to do some things for myself, right? I can’t call on you for every little thing.”

  “Except that you can. I told you to call me if you need anything.”

  She rendered a slow, deliberate perusal from the top of his head to his feet. In a warning voice, she said, “You need to be careful about the offers you make.”

  Despite the twirling ceiling fan, the temperature in the room seemed to rise by a dozen degrees. Jamar took a step toward her, a spark of heat flashing in his eyes.

  “When I say anything, I mean…anything.”

  There was no mistaking the meaning behind his words.

  They stood there staring at each other, a silent, seductive ribbon of awareness wrapping around them. Her gaze dropped to his chest, then came up to his full lower lip. He pulled it between his teeth and her heart started to beat triple time.

  “What do you need, Taylor?” There was a hint of challenge in his voice.

  She set the glass down and grabbed hold of his shoulders, drawing him to her. Without another word, she crushed her lips to his, taking what she needed.

  She warned herself to slow down, but then completely ignored her own advice. She didn’t want slow. She wanted them naked and sweating as quickly as possible.

  Jamar pulled the ponytail holder from her hair, causing her braids to cascade down her back. Capturing the back of her head in his palm, he held her steady as his tongue pushed past the seam of her lips with a possessiveness that made her nipples grow tight.

  Taylor splayed her fingers wide over his muscles, marveling at the topography of his chiseled chest. The man was a work of art. Every curve and contour felt as if it were carved out of stone.

  “Taylor,” he rasped against her lips. “What are we doing?”

  “I’m not explaining it to you, young buck.”

  He pulled his mouth away from hers, his breaths choppy. “I’m serious. We said we wouldn’t do this.”

  Yes, they had. And not even an hour into her stay she had his tongue down her throat.

  But, dammit, she wanted his tongue down her throat. She wanted more than his tongue down her throat.

  “Look, I know what we said, but it isn’t realistic. We both know that we want this. Common sense demands that we satisfy that want. It’s called ‘let’s get it out of our system’ sex.”

  “You just made that up.”

  “I did not! Look, we do it this one time so that we both don’t spontaneously combust. And then we’re done.”

  “And you think one time will be enough? It doesn’t work that way, Taylor.”

  She huffed out a laugh. “What? You think I’m gonna get dick-whipped after one time?”

  The grin that curled up the corners of his mouth was impossibly wicked. “It’s happened before.”

  Taylor narrowed her eyes at him. If she didn’t want him so bad right now, she would put his cocky ass out of his own pool house.

  Yeah, that wasn’t happening. At least not until he gave her the orgasm she’d been dreaming about for these past few weeks.

  “Are we doing this or what, Twenty-Three?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. What if you end up regretting it? You’re the one who initially said we shouldn’t go there, remember?”

  “I also said the minidresses-over-jeans trend would make a comeback. Sometimes I say stupid shit.”

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  She ran her hands down her face in exasperation. “It means you should forget what I said before and fuck me, okay! It’s not a hard concept to grasp, Jamar.”

  “Interesting choice of words.”

  She pointed to his crotch and the bulge straining behind his zipper. “That says it all.”

  “Don’t worry about this,” he said, pulling at the front of his jeans. “I can take care of this.”

  “Really? So is that what we’re doing? We’ll each go off to our separate corners and masturbate? Because that’s what I’m going to do if you walk out of here without getting me off.”

  His head fell back. “Why would you put that visual in my mind?”

  She tugged on the hem of his shirt and brought him to her. “You don’t need the visual in your mind when the real thing is right here.”

  His nostrils flared with the intense look he leveled at her. “Just remember, this was your idea.”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, trying and failing to hold back her grin. It was hard not to gloat when she knew she was going to get her way. She let out a squeak when he reached down and scooped her into his arms. He set her on the counter and dove straight for that spot between her jaw and collarbone.

  “How does that ankle feel?” he asked as he trailed his tongue along her neck.

  “Forget the ankle. Worry about this.”

  She grabbed his hand and moved it between her legs. He released a desperate moan as he cupped her and pressed upward, the heel of his palm grinding against
her.

  Taylor braced her hands behind her and dropped her head back, all her thoughts focused on the hand between her legs. He slipped it inside the waistband of her running pants and brushed his thick forefinger against her clit.

  She gasped, pressing forward, needing way more than just his finger there.

  “Tell me you have some condoms in here somewhere?”

  “In my wallet.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the wallet. While he fished inside for the condom, she helped him with his jeans, unbuckling them and jerking the zipper down. The imprint of his dick pressed against his dark blue boxer briefs.

  Mercy.

  She tugged at his jeans, but he moved her hands out of the way and pulled both the jeans and boxers down his hips.

  Taylor took a moment to appreciate the sheer fucking beauty of his erection.

  “Stop staring,” he said as he rolled on the condom. Once he secured it in place, he pulled her to the edge of the counter and spread her thighs wide enough to wedge his hips between them.

  “Remember,” he said. “Your idea.”

  “I take full responsibility,” she said. Then she sucked in a slow breath as he eased inside of her. Instinctively, her thighs spread wider, making more room for him as he began to move with measured strokes. Taylor closed her eyes and concentrated on the luscious feel of him, the delicious friction causing all manner of sensations to flutter through her.

  Reminders of past mistakes she’d made—of that time she’d been intimate with a client—tried to creep into her psyche, but she batted them away. This was different. Jamar was different. It was an insult to compare him to anyone from her past.

  He shoved her T-shirt and bra up over her breasts and captured one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking hard as he continued to drive into her with deep, unrelenting thrusts. The strength and heat of him, the overwhelming power of his body; it was too much.

  His fingers dug into her sides, his firm grip holding her steady as he pumped harder and faster. Taylor was spellbound by the sight of their bodies connecting in such an erotic, primitive way. A tortured groan climbed up from her throat as the first tingling of impending release started to build low in her belly.