by Nia Arthurs
That’s how I feel.
There’s a storm on the horizon of my world. The air is shifting, releasing that earthy fragrance everyone knows and no one can name. I’m waiting for the clouds to burst, waiting for it all to crash around me, and I’m scared.
I hate being scared.
“You’re right. New idea.” I suck in a fortifying breath and glance through the window at the city lights whisking by. My head lolls back and forth as I inspect the neon signs. “There should be one around here.”
“What are you looking for?”
“A hotel.”
“If you’re hungry, I know somewhere more laidback where we can grab dinner.”
“I’m not hungry. I’m saying we should rent a room for the night.”
Griffin slams on the brakes. “Cobie.”
“You have a point. I’m not in the right mood for something as tame as a date.” I speak calmly even though my body’s going through a whirlwind of emotions. Fear. Excitement. Worry. Anticipation. “Besides, I hate small talk.”
“There’s no talking at a cinema.”
“If we go to the movies, you might try the yawn-and-clutch-my-seat move. Or our fingers might bump in the popcorn. Or we’ll squirm awkwardly at the kiss scenes. I’ve got too much nervous energy. I need something a little more intentional.”
“I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
“Thank you.”
“But I don’t like to be used. I want more than a friends-with-benefits relationship with you.”
I snort. “That’s arrogant of you to assume that we’re friends.”
A car honks behind us.
Griffin shakes his head and presses on the gas. “Then what are we?”
“We’d be lovers if you’d stop talking and just find a hotel.”
He releases an astonished laugh. “I’d really like to jump into your brain and figure out how you come to these conclusions.”
“Why not settle for jumping into my pants instead?”
A corner of his lips curves up. “Have you been getting your seduction tips from Ms. Shirley?”
“Don’t treat me like I’m being irrational. We’re both consenting adults who find each other attractive. It’s not that big of a leap so don’t overthink it. You owe me a kiss anyway.”
“And you owe me a date.”
“Baam. You’ve just been upgraded.”
Griffin pulls the car over to the curb and shuts the engine. The silence is filled by the moving traffic that is carrying on without us.
I twist around and study the street. “Is one of these places a hotel?”
Silence.
“Griffin?” When I glance back around, I find him staring at me. “What are you doing?”
“Enough.” His words echo, powerful.
My insides twist.
“Let me in, Cobie,” he says.
Shifting uncomfortably, I try to crack a joke. “You’re free all the way to fourth base, buddy. What more do you want?”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Then explain it to me.”
Slowly, determinedly, he unbuckles his seatbelt.
It clicks.
The whirr rips loudly in the air as the mechanism sucks the belt back into the hub. The sound seems to go on forever.
My heart thuds.
Eyes made dark by the shadows, Griffin captures my attention with his potent stare. As if he senses my rising desire. As if he can taste it, feel it.
I tremble when he leans closer.
Electricity skitters between us. A thick, throbbing pulse that flows through the center of me and connects with the center of him.
Heat.
Lusty desire.
I never thought I’d be a bang-in-the-backseat kind of girl, but I’m seriously considering it.
And Griffin hasn’t even touched me yet.
Reckless.
I blame it on the liquor running through my veins. The worry snaking through my heart. The attraction that’s been an upturned barrel of gasoline seeping into every inch of my body and mind.
The match has just been lit.
Griffin rubs one of those massive hands over my cheek, his lips drawing nearer. His eyes drilling a hole into my face.
My insides blaze with attraction.
I can hardly breathe.
Hardly move.
Suddenly, he jerks back, intense stare softening to something that makes me shudder.
Understanding.
Like he’s seen through me, seen what makes me tick, what makes me fear and hope and dream. He not only knows but resonates with it, comprehends every finite detail.
His knuckles graze my chin. “I like you.”
My breath thickens.
I’m panicking, skittering on thin ice like a rat in a skating rink.
Griffin cracks a half-smile. “You’re terrified, but I won’t hurt you, Cobie.”
His words reverberate in my chest, pooling in that deep, dark place that no one’s supposed to know about, filling in the shattered cracks of my broken heart.
No. I don’t want this.
I want heat.
Wild passion.
Fire.
Physical intimacy.
Emotional distance.
Feeling cornered, I grab his collar and pull him in for a kiss.
Our lips smash together, uncoordinated and hot.
My fingers twine in the soft fabric of his dress-shirt collar.
A zing travels from my lips all the way down to my toes.
Griffin’s body fills my space. His lips steal my oxygen. I’m feeling things… all kinds of things, whispering that my heart is more tangled in him than it should be.
Than it can be.
But I can’t let him go.
Even if I know that he’ll hurt me when I do.
I’m hooked.
A fish on Griffin’s line. He’s reeling me in with every powerful stroke of his lips, every brush of his hand against my waist, every heated breath that fogs up the windows.
He’s so big and yet so tender.
Tucking my bottom lip between his teeth, he sucks gently, eliciting a moan from me and a shot of unbridled heat from my body.
I wind my hands around his waist.
Press as close as I can with the console jamming me in the ribs.
Griffin pulls back.
Our lips detach with a wet slurp.
Panting, desperate to get him back on top of me, I whisper, “My place is closer. I think.”
Griffin responds with a grunt.
For a moment, I’m afraid he’ll argue, but he starts the car and drives in the direction that I point him to.
The silence on the way to my apartment doesn’t bother me. My mind is too busy sorting through the logistics of this hookup to care about why Griffin’s gone all moody.
When’s the last time I shaved?
Is he going to care?
I glance at my jeans.
Should be fine.
What underwear did I wear today?
I grimace when I recall reaching for my big, period undies while getting dressed this morning.
Darn me and my inconsistent laundry schedule.
Speaking of laundry, just how messy is my bedroom right now?
I picture all the clothes I’d thrown out of the closet when looking for an outfit to wear to the meeting this morning.
Ah, well… the couch will just have to do.
It starts to drizzle the moment Griffin parks in front of my building.
Almost vibrating with excitement, I undo my seatbelt and start to open my door but stop mid-way.
In the distance, a figure is crumpled against the front stoop.
She’s wearing a strange fabric over her svelte body.
Black hair.
Dark brown skin.
Long, glossy legs.
My heart drops all the way to my toes.
I squint, staring through the windshield, hardly believing my eye
s.
That absolutely defeated-looking woman can’t possibly be…
“Chandra?”
20 Griffin
What the hell do I do about this woman?
Cobie Simmons is temptation wrapped up in a black sweater and jeans. I want to get into her head just as much as I want to get inside that eager little body.
If she’d allow me to do both, I’d be a happy man.
But she’s not.
Cobie’s throwing up stop signs and red lights all over the place.
And it’s pissing me off.
While opening her legs seems to be on the table, opening her heart is a battle I’d have to wage with all my might.
She’s worth it.
But damn. Doesn’t make the process any less frustrating.
Tension’s been simmering between us since the moment she opened the front door and flashed those chocolate-colored eyes my way. The crazy attraction that I’ve felt for her since adolescence only amplified my pursuit.
I haven’t waited ten years just to rock her world for one night and then shame-walk out of her apartment.
I want her.
All of her.
I’ve got two choices in front of me.
Give her what she wants and hope for the best or demand what I want and possibly lose her.
The raging desire in my body is leaning toward the former.
My heart is saying something else.
I inhale deeply.
Get my body in check.
Watch Cobie hook her finger around the door latch and pull.
Her gaze is fastened on something in the distance and I sense the shift in her voice when she whispers, “Chandra?”
My brows lift.
I glance up and notice a woman leaning against the apartment stairs. A golden curtain wraps around her body like a toga. Long, disheveled black hair covers her face.
This city is full of characters, but a naked woman in a curtain-toga is a first.
“Chandra!” Cobie elbows the door open and launches out. Her heels thump against the pavement and her curls fly behind her, torn through by the wind.
Concerned, I follow.
Just in case this is some dangerous drug addict and not Cobie’s best friend.
Cobie gets to the woman first.
She drops in front of her, one knee to the pavement.
My steps slow as I near them both and realize with rising confusion that the Toga Lady is, indeed, Chandra.
“What are you doing here?” Cobie asks, out of breath. “Why are you wearing this?” She tugs at the end of the tasseled curtain. “What the hell is going on?”
“Cobie…” Chandra’s bottom lip quivers. “Help.”
It’s a muttered plea.
A terrified cry.
Chandra sobs and lets her head fall on Cobie’s chest, hiding her face from view. The moment she’s secure in her friend’s embrace, her weeping grows louder.
“Babe, don’t cry.” With trembling fingers, Cobie runs her hand down Chandra’s back and pins me with a helpless look.
“Is someone after you?” I ask, trying to get some background information. Glancing over my shoulder, I look for any signs of a pursuer. “Is it Howard?”
Chandra shakes her head.
“Babe, talk to me,” Cobie begs.
A group of women trot by.
They shoot Chandra bizarre looks and whisper behind their hands.
I clear my throat. “It’s cold. Why don’t we go inside?”
“Good idea.” Cobie nudges Chandra up.
The curtain slips, revealing the tops of her breasts.
I avert my eyes, but not before a million questions pop into my brain. Something’s desperately wrong and all the scenarios flowing through my head are as dismal as the next.
I slant a worried glance Cobie’s way. These two are joined in soul and mind. Whatever’s going on with Chandra will affect Cobie too.
More than anything, I want to protect that woman.
And that means Chandra’s under my protection too.
“Here we are,” Cobie mutters as she flings her front door open.
The familiar apartment greets me.
Everything is as I remember, from the shabby wallpaper to the flat screen to the old appliances in the kitchen.
“I’ll get her dressed,” Cobie says, leading Chandra down the hallway.
“Should I leave?”
“Stay.” The word wobbles on her lips. She slants me a brave smile, but I can sense the unsteadiness behind it. “I need you... to stay.”
And that’s all I have to hear.
“Okay.”
She leaves with Chandra. Closes the door softly behind her. Disappears.
Turning, I trot to the ‘salon’ corner of Cobie’s living room. Unmarked plastic bottles filled with her mother’s pink solution line the walls. An unframed mirror is smattered with drops of dried conditioner.
My fingers rasp over the magazines scattered on the table.
The headlines catch my eye.
‘Hair Porosity over Hair Texture: What You Need To Know’
‘Coconut Oil. Miracle Product?’
‘Don’t Touch My Hair’
Despite the heaviness of the night, I find myself smiling at that last title.
Since Cobie’s tongue-lashing a few weeks ago, I’ve been studying up on natural hair, just waiting for a chance to show her that I’ve done my research.
That opportunity hasn’t presented itself though.
Yet.
My phone buzzes.
I fish it out of my pocket.
Ollie.
I answer. “Hey, man.”
“What’s up? Did your friends get in alright?”
“Uh…” I glance at the door where Cobie and Chandra disappeared. “They’re okay. For now.”
“I asked around at the bar. Apparently, that Howard guy is Howard Rainer, the owner of Total Music Package.”
“That big entertainment company?”
“That’s the one. And the Rick guy? Rick Bane, Howard’s millionaire buddy. I did a quick Google search. They’re both super shady, Griff.”
“Thanks for the info, but,” I glance at the door again, “I’m starting to figure that out for myself.” I unbutton the top of my shirt. “And what are you doing playing detective instead of enjoying the bachelor party?”
“You know this isn’t my scene,” he grumbles.
I laugh because that’s true and I can imagine his misery. “Alejandro’s one of your major clients. Think of all the customers he referred to your gym over the years.”
“Why the hell do you think I dragged my butt here?” Ollie growls.
I check my watch. “Brave it out for at least another hour. It’s barely been forty minutes.”
“I don’t need the time check. I’m doing that on my own.”
A rowdy shout erupts in the background.
Ollie curses. “Alejandro’s ragging on me to do shots.”
“You told him you don’t drink?”
“Even a recovering alcoholic like me can’t convince Alejandro. I shouldn’t have come.”
“If it’s that tempting, you should leave. It’s not worth the risk.”
Cobie’s bedroom door opens.
I turn swiftly. “Ollie, we’ll talk later.”
“Yeah.”
I hang up and catch Cobie’s eye. “Everything okay?”
“Sort of.”
I study Chandra, who is now wearing a T-shirt and cotton shorts. She doesn’t seem as unhinged as she did when we found her. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail. Dark brown skin catches the light. Her eyes are haunted but alert.
She’s getting her composure back.
“Sit.” Cobie settles next to her and, in a firm voice, commands, “Talk.”
I step back, giving them space while lingering close enough to lend a helping hand if needed.
“Rick kicked me out,” Chandra says absently.
Cobie’s botto
m lip trembles but she remains calm. “Why?”
Chandra stares at the floor as if she missed the question.
Cobie grabs her friend by the shoulders and gives her a gentle shake. “Why?”
“Howard complained about the way we treated him tonight.”
“Why would he punish you because of that? Why didn’t he get angry at the right person?” Cobie rubs her forehead. “Tell me in a way I can understand.”
“Howard is one of Rick’s investors. He basically pulls all the strings. Rick is just a cog in the machine. When Howard threatened to pull out of a deal because of me, Rick got angry. He… lost it a little.”
“Lost it a”—Cobie’s bark of laughter has no humor—“Are you serious right now? How can you say that with a straight face? Your boyfriend stripped you naked and kicked you into the night with a curtain wrapped around your back. He…” Her eyes sharpen. “He didn’t actually kick you, did he? Chandra,” Cobie scrambles back, “was Rick abusive?”
Silence.
I shuffle in discomfort.
This conversation really doesn’t sound like it’s meant for me.
Cobie jumps out of the couch and starts to pace. “The night I came over to discuss the Winthrop contract you were wearing too much makeup. And you were limping. You told me you were just tired, but I knew it. I knew something was off. Rick, that son of a—”
“It wasn’t often.”
“Please! Like I believe that.”
“It wasn’t.” Chandra bows her head. “And he always apologized…”
Cobie goes still.
Uneasy stillness fills the room.
“How long?” Cobie asks.
Chandra shrugs. “I don’t know. A while.”
Cobie moans and grabs her head, sinking to the floor.
I run to her and hold her up.
My eyes catch Chandra’s over Cobie’s shoulder.
So much pain.
These two were the most popular girls in my high school. All I’d wanted, all I’d ever wanted, was to be noticed by them.
But now that I’m here, now that I’ve got one in my arms and the other in my eyesight, I don’t know what I can do to help.
21 Cobie
Tears are streaming down my cheeks, plopping to the ground like the storm outside.
Don’t get me wrong.
I’m not bawling like a baby because I’m hurt or sad or scandalized.
I’m bawling because I’m pissed.
Because my fingers are turning to lead fists and all I want in this moment is to sink my heels so far down Rick’s throat he coughs up my soles.