Page 45

She led the way but had only taken three steps before looking over her shoulder at me seductively.
"You know what? Bring the cheesecake," she said, laughing as she exited the kitchen.
He hadn't liedabout having me all night. My legs felt like they did the one time I was crazy enough to take an advanced spin class with my aunt, and the ache between my thighs hadn't eased yet. It had been late as hell when I finally showered and slipped into the pretty nightgown that he'd bought me.
He had also planned on having me all day, I guessed, which explained why his head was currently in my lap as we sprawled across the deep, comfortable sectional at the front of his theater room. This house was something serious. Real had obviously spared no expense and the result was gorgeous. I stroked his scalp as we quietly binged "Snowfall," ridiculously full of brunch delivered from his mother's restaurant. How the hell had I gotten here? I knew I was treading on dangerous, unfamiliar ground. I wasn't looking for this kind of relationship. Eating together, sleeping together, showering together, watching TV together—there was waytoo much"together." In fact...
"I need to leave in a minute, Montréal Hamilton," I whispered, tracing his always crisp lineup.
"Why?" he asked, not moving.
He didn't even look at me, acted like he didn't give a damn about what I said. Audacious was a word created with this nigga in mind.
"I have plans, nosey."
"Cancel them."
I pushed out an exasperated breath at his typical bossiness. He made demands and expected them to be acted upon. I indulged that as part of the fantasy, but not today.
"I can’t," I insisted.
Real paused the show and sat up to look at me. One thick eyebrow lifted, demanding an answer. I didn’t owe him one, though, and I had to stand on that. Things were getting way too messy between us.
“We can watch a couple more episodes, then for real?—”
“Nah, cuz if it was ‘for Real,’ you’d be here, love,” he grumbled, settling back down.
I rolled my eyes but ignored his corny-ass play on words. When it was time to leave, I almost gave in to the desire to stay. But Monday was my birthday, and no one here knew that. Celebrating with Taleah at her party tonight gave me a little chance to enjoy it.
Seven hours later, I was seated at a table for the birthday girl, her sister Tayla, Kelsey, and a couple of their cousins and friends. It was obvious to me long before tonight that Liam Maxwell adored his wife. Taleah and their son were the center of his world. But I couldn't help noticing how it was reflected in this party. Liam had transformed one of the clubs they owned into a fancy little cabaret with a dance floor at the back. The rose gold and burgundy decor was stunning, helping shift the spot from a big, impersonal venue to a cozy little place with a jazz joint feel. The talent of the performers, who ranged from local to national stars, was amazing. I was vibing with one of the women’s version of “Through the Fire” when the pretty woman seated next to me—LaChelle, I believed—turned and smiled.
"So, Ms. Ev, are you a cousin? I know Taleah and Kelsey are serious about family."
“No, Taleah and I met on a job. We're both nurses. What about you?" I asked.
"I'm the cousin of a cousin, and I graduate next month in Early Childhood Education."
"Congratulations, lady! That's impressive."
She waved one diamond-dazzled hand.
"Thank you. Hell, I'm a few years late. I had to fail at a couple of things, first—being a socialite, full-time shopper, and day drinker—but I think I finally got it right," she joked.
I laughed with her, relaxing in my seat.
"It's never too late. And I don't think you failed at the shopping gig, by the way. You look gorgeous," I complimented her sincerely.
Her smile widened. “Thank you. I know you already know it, but you looking beautiful as hell yourself.”
“Oh, my God! It’s the Pretty Girls Mutual Admiration Society.”
I jumped as Kelsey’s dry voice came from behind us. I hadn’t even realized she’d stood up from the table. LaChelle and I laughed as she pretended to gag before holding up her glass of champagne.
“First of all, both of you ladies fine as fuck. Now that we’ve established that, can I just say, I ain’t no lightweight, but this damn Ace does something to me! Come back here and dance with me. Taleah over there acting in love and Kyriq ain’t fucking with me,” Kelsey continued before sipping from her champagne.
Taleah and Kelsey had seats at two tables—one with their girls and a smaller one with just them and their husbands. They wanted to socialize but they wanted to be close to the men they loved, too. I wasn’t mad at them. Taleah was sitting in Liam’s lap, whispering in his ear as he leaned forward, a possessive arm draped around her waist. Watching the intimate touches between them, I felt a pang of something—wistfulness, I guess—that I shrugged off. Chill was relaxing at the table, his eyes on Kelsey, despite her claim.
“From where I’m sitting, it looks very much like Kyriq is fuckin’ with you,” LaChelle quipped.