by Peyton Banks
The trouble was his lips were very, very right at the moment. He had managed to flood her undies from just a kiss.
She pulled away slightly. She was running out of breath. His face was still so close to hers, and it was messing with her ability to reason.
She’d had more dreams about him since that first one a couple of weeks ago. And now here he was, but flesh-and-blood Keisha wasn’t nearly as bold as dream Keisha.
“I’m late,” she whispered against his lips. The plaza in front of her building was mostly empty— it being several minutes after the afternoon shift started. She pulled away, but his hands tightened around her waist.
“I’m sorry, I have to go.” She backed away and wiggled to get clear of him. His pretty metrosexual face and fascinating green eyes looked confused. His lips were wet from their kiss, and she squelched the desire to run her thumb over them. She wanted to keep on kissing him, but she reminded herself he was not a serious guy, certainly not someone worth being late to work for.
She was a working stiff who took public transportation to work. He borrowed and wrecked luxury performance vehicles.
She went to grad school. He made sex tapes.
She was fiercely independent. He had three people, that she knew of, to take care of him.
They came from different worlds. Worlds that were so different their paths would never intersect past this brief meeting.
“I’ll see you at eleven,” he reminded her.
She should beg off, but he knew where she lived and worked. Her gut told her it was better to simply go along with it, rather than continue to ignore him.
She stroked his arm, dazed, and turned away in a daze to go into the building.
True to his word, Rick was waiting for her at the end of her shift, his goons a discreet distance away from the entrance of the building. He met her a few steps from the front door.
The night was warm and pleasant, the moon was almost full. Bathed in moonlight, he looked even better than he had that afternoon. A sexy half-smile teased his lips. The man was good looking, and he knew it. She tamped down her body’s hormonal response to him, reminding herself the man was all over the tabloids for doing all sorts of irresponsible things.
"Hi." He gave her an almost bashful smile.
"Hi, back," she said. "So, are we just going to stand around and look at each other, or are we going somewhere?"
He chuckled, gesturing at the black-windowed Escalade parked at the curb with a sweep of his arm. "After you," he smiled. She looked at him warily. “My cousin knows where I am,” she told him. “So, no funny business.”
“Funny business?” he asked her.
"No kissing," she told him sternly and wagged a finger at him. She was tired and refused to deal with RA III's entitled bullshit. Even though she had to admit, he was enormously attractive.
She'd spent her entire shift thinking about that impulsive kiss, sometimes touching her fingers to her lips with wonder, her mind casting back to the look of blazing lust she'd seen in his eyes when she'd pulled herself away from him. His facial expression had morphed into something more primal. More… caveman-ish. Cavemanlike? Anyway, it was a look that was nothing like the fear in his eyes the night of the accident, nor the glib expression he'd had when he'd first approached her that afternoon.
It was a look that had provoked the sudden desire to run away. To flee. As if she were an antelope on the African plains, suddenly aware she is being stalked by a nearby pride of lions.
But he looked disappointed now.
"You didn't like our kiss?" he asked.
"It wasn't appropriate," she said primly, not directly answering his question. He made her feel out of control, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. Her heart said to give into his kiss, but her mind reminded her that RA III was not the man to invest her emotions in. “But you liked it… or not?” he asked in hopeful tone.
“Yes,” she said. “I did like it.”
They reached the SUV, and one of the goons held the door open for them.
RA III offered her a hand to help her in. He had good manners, she had to give him that.
She took his hand cautiously, wary of getting too close too soon. The back seat was so large and dark she misjudged the distance and tripped her way into the SUV, landing on the floorboards in an unladylike heap.
She righted herself, face ablaze with embarrassment, trying to regain some decorum. As she settled into the bench seat, she took in the smirk on his lips as he followed her in and sat next to her.
"It's not funny," she declared with a huff, her face flaming with embarrassment.
"It was funny," he contradicted with a grin.
"Don’t forget my cousin knows where I am," she reminded him sternly. "So, no funny business."
"Funny business?" he asked her, leaning in close enough to throw off his body heat. His eyes held the wolfish gleam of a predator.
"Is there an echo?” she asked, scooting away from him until her back hit the rear passenger door.
He frowned. "Not that I'm aware of. Why?"
“You keep repeating everything I say,” she said with a laugh. She shoulder-checked him and giggled.
“I keep repeating everything you say?” he asked, blinking.
“Never mind,” she replied, rolling her eyes.
“Okay,” he said, rolling his eyes as well.
The SUV pulled away from the curb, causing her to lurch in her seat.
“Where are we going?" she asked
He gave her a thoughtful look, then settled back in the seat.
"Wherever you like," he said with a shrug and a charming smile.
"Someplace public," she proposed. "I know. Let's go to IHOP," she suggested. "It's public, well lit, and open 24 hours."
He blinked at her, and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He sighed. "Sure," he said finally.
"Something wrong? " she asked.
"Um, no. Nothing's wrong," he said, settling on his side of the seat with his face screwed up.
Soon, they arrived at the restaurant, which was brightly lit with few cars in the parking lot. RA III took off his sport coat, donned his mirrored sunglasses, then pulled a tattered blue baseball cap from his back pocket, cramming it onto his head. It looked weird with the expensive pants and button-down shirt.
“What’s with the outfit?” she asked, wondering about the odd fashion choice.
"Paparazzi," he stated, craning his neck to peer out the window.
She looked as well, but saw nothing odd.
"There's no one out there," she looked back at him. "You're being paranoid."
He smirked. "It’s not paranoia when someone’s out to get you."
He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help chuckling as they got out of the SUV. Inside, the hostess showed them to a small booth in the back of the restaurant. They ordered soft drinks and mozzarella sticks to nosh on.
"So," she sighed after their waitress hustled off to put in their order. "I guess I should be flattered you’ve been low-key stalking me?" She cocked an eyebrow at him.
If he had any reaction, she couldn't tell. She found the hat and sunglasses distracting, and it seemed to her he looked more suspicious with his getup than he would without it.
"I don’t know about that, but I will say I wanted to thank you, personally, for the way you were with me during the crash," he said. “I didn’t want to leave that open-ended.”
She saw his eyebrows knit together as if he were doing some deep thinking behind the mirrored glasses.
"You already thanked me," she said with a half-smile and a shake of her head. "You thanked me the night of the accident. You've sent me plants every day this week to show your thanks. There's nothing more you need to do."
He opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as the waitress arrived with their drinks and cheese sticks.
"Y'all need anything else?" the woman asked
Keisha looked at RA and he shook his head. Keisha shook hers as well, and the waitress gave th
em a smile and left.
"But, it's not really enough, is it? Compared to what you did for me?" he insisted with a reverent tone in his voice. He looked down, then picked up his glass and sipped from his Dr Pepper, as if he was trying to hide his expression. Not that it was necessary with those glasses and that cap. It wasn't like she could really see his face, anyway.
"I was just doing my job," she said, a little embarrassed, as she always was, when someone suggested she was some kind of hero for talking disaster victims through their bad situations. She took a sip of her Dr Pepper.
"You saved my life," he said gravely as he set his glass back down. "The team saved your life," she insisted, then waved a hand dismissively. If letting him thank her in person was all he wanted, then they were done. After this little meeting, he would stop pestering her. She wouldn't have to give RA III any more of her time. Why did this thought make her sad? That settled in her mind, she eyed the cheese sticks with interest, thinking that normally she'd be having a snack at home when her shift was over. She took one and bit off half of it. She reached for another the same he did, and their fingers collided. She felt a pleasant, warm jolt of sexual heat zip up her arm and straight to her clitoris. Startled and a little horrified, she looked away, blushing. Rick removed the mirrored glasses and peered at her. She blushed even harder, then he blushed as well. “Did you feel that?” he asked. He reached across the table and took her hand, using his thumb to rub the webbing between her forefinger and thumb. His green eyes were sincere. “Tell me you didn’t feel that. There’s something going on between us.”
Flustered, Keisha said nothing. She grabbed her beverage and took a big gulp. The carbonation fizzed in her throat and went down the wrong way. Her eyes watered as she tried to stifle a cough. She couldn't hold back, and coughed and wheezed, her sinuses inflamed and her throat burning.
He was at her side in seconds, crowding into her side of the booth, rubbing her shoulders to help ease her discomfort. When that didn't help, he took her by the elbow and helped her to her feet. He started to steer her, but her eyes were watering, and she was still coughing, so she didn't know where they were going. Out of nowhere the two goons appeared and moved like a pair of sentries to flank RA III.
"It's okay, guys," he told them. "I'm just taking her to the ladies’ room."
"I'd be happy to escort her." One of them—Keisha thought his name was William—volunteered.
She was glad of it, as she wanted to put some distance between herself and Rick. They were getting too close, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it yet.
In the restroom, she hacked and coughed hard before she was able to get herself under control. As she splashed cold water on her face, a well-dressed, middle-aged woman emerged from one of the stalls.
"Are you okay, dear?" the woman said, smiling sympathetically.
"I am now," Keisha croaked, wiping her face with a paper towel. The woman placed a hand on Keisha's shoulder.
"You sure?" she asked smiling. Keisha thought maybe the other woman was a little too familiar for someone in a restroom.
"Positive," Keisha sighed, patting water from her face.
The other woman washed her hands and took a very long time wiping them dry. She was meticulously drying around her fingernails and in between her fingers.
"I bet you want to get back to your date with your young man!" she finally said in a bright tone after her hands were thoroughly dry.
"Hmm?" Keisha said absently. The woman sure was chatty to a stranger in the ladies’ room in the middle of the night. "Uh, yes. Something like that." She nodded as the other woman and exited the restroom.
Keisha took a few minutes to touch up her makeup and fluff her hair and when she emerged from the restroom, there stood William, waiting for her.
Back at the booth, Rick and the other bodyguard were standing by the booth, looking expectantly at her.
"I'm sorry, but we have to leave," Rick said, looking chagrined. "Apparently, there's a security issue."
Although confused by this latest development, Keisha took it in stride. This had been such a weird evening episode all around, that leaving just after the food had been served seemed fitting. But Keisha was disappointed. She was starting to enjoy herself, even though she still wasn’t sure how she felt about Rick.
As they headed to the car, she wondered how often he had to leave restaurants due to security breaches. His hand brushed hers, and she shot a look at him. He was focused on the car, and the touch seemed accidental. But it made her reflect on the chemistry between them: both the kiss and that delicious electrical sensation from merely touching him. If a mere touch set off such sparks, what would actual sex with him be like? Not that she planned to have sex with him. No, this was the extent of her involvement with Mr. R.A. III. Still, it was too bad the strange evening was at an end.
The cheese sticks had already been placed in a to-go bag, the bill paid, and they headed out to take Keisha home.
4
In the SUV, Keisha sat with the to-go bag clasped on her lap like a protective shield.
“Does that happen to you a lot?” she asked. At his questioning look, she elaborated. “You know, getting chased out of restaurants?”
He shrugged. “More often than I’d like, that’s for sure. I have no idea why my life is interesting to the tabloids.”
Keisha thought about the rumors she’d read about...and the sex tape she’d seen. She reached over the inches that separated them to wind her fingers over his. She gave him a small smile.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I’m just sorry you got caught up in all of this,” he said, hitching one leg up on the bench seat and turning to face her. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.” His voice was low, his face super close to hers, their lips just a hair’s breadth apart. Because she had a dirty mind, when he mentioned doing something for her, Keisha’s eyes dropped to Rick’s lips, and cunnilingus immediately sprang to mind. His lips were full and biteable. When he spoke, his mouth moved in such a way that she couldn’t help but think of oral sex. Unconsciously, her face moved closer to his, until their lips touched. They stayed that way for what seemed like forever, but was probably no more than a few seconds.
Keisha, I feel this pull toward you. It began the first moment I saw you. Even when I was still in my car— my uncle's car. You were like an angel sent to soothe me, to calm me so I could be rescued. Then meeting you in person, I feel even more drawn to you. Don't you feel the same?"
His gaze was expectant. He licked his attractive lips, waiting for her to answer his question.
"I— uh," she sputtered. Then she sidestepped the question. "We just met." Keisha wasn’t quite sure of his intentions, especially in light of what she’d read in the tabloids. Except, Rick wasn’t anything like how he was portrayed in the tabloids. Rick deflated with disappointment, then quickly recovered. "I think there was a reason we met," he told her. He ran his thumb over her jawline, her chin, then he traced the curve of her lower lip. He pinched it lightly, the tiny bite of discomfort blooming into pleasure as it ricocheted down her body to make her clit swell. Jesus, this man wreaked havoc on her peace of mind. Surely, she could kiss him. That wouldn’t hurt anything, would it? Just one more kiss.
So, she closed her eyes and leaned forward for his kiss.
Rick’s hand snaked around her waist, pulling her close, while the other went around the back of her neck. Distantly, she heard the to-go box slide off her lap, and Rick made a little grunting noise in the back of his throat. Then his mouth slanted over hers with an all-consuming kiss. His lips were firm, mobile, and his tongue slid along the seam of her lips and when she opened, he plunged his tongue, wet and rougher than she expected, into her mouth.
He broke the kiss and planted his lips on the pulse point of her throat, and she gasped.
“You taste like peaches,” he muttered against the skin of her neck. His fingers threaded into her hair, and he gripped it at the back of her head.
“Don’t move.”
Was it wrong that what he’d said made her hot?
He trailed kisses along her jawline, and dragged his tongue down her neck. “So sweet and fresh. I knew you would taste sweet. Let me make you mine.”
Keisha’s mind reeled, her body aflame with his kisses. She shivered all over, feeling as if she were coming out of her skin, and arched into his touch. Never would she have expected this from Rick, whose easy-going demeanor was at odds with this bossy man making love to her. Her fingers tunneled into his hair, and she found it silky under her touch. His scruff rasped against the sensitive skin of her neck. She surged against him again.
“Hold still,” he chuckled against her skin. Then he nipped at her neck, and not a sweet, teasing nip. More like a “I’m the boss” pinch.
Her eyes flew open. She felt that nip from the tips of her ears to the end of her clit. She liked the rough stuff, and apparently, he liked that she liked it.
Feeling overwhelmed with sensation, Keisha fought to emerge from her lust fog. It was time to leave. She righted herself in the upholstery, dragging her body away from the hot-but-pushy Rick. Then she located the to-go bag, which had tumbled to the floor boards. She plucked it up and positioned it over her lady business. She made a show of smoothing her hair and squaring her shoulders.
Rick blinked, befuddled, and flopped back into the plush upholstery. He scratched his rumpled mess of hair and wiped a hand down one side of his face. Keisha watched him with growing trepidation as he adjusted his privates in his trousers. "When— when are you taking me home?" she wanted to know. Home was where she needed to be. Right now.
"We are home. We've been parked outside your house for the last ten minutes."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, startled that she hadn't realized the SUV had stopped moving. She watched him carefully, hoping he wasn’t annoyed with her. "What time is it?"
Her iPhone lock screen displayed a time a bit after two in the morning. RA III looked at her intently. He still had that predatory, ‘lion taking down an antelope on the African plain’ look in his eyes.