Page 47

My voice stopped abruptly as an arm slid around me from behind.
"Nah, he good. Right, Naaman?"
Real's voice swept over me, awash in a chill and hardness I'd only ever heard him use with Aaqil. His arm was a steel band holding me against him, even as my hands still grasped Naaman. I watched as Naaman's eyes blazed, a tiny muscle ticking in his jaw. But all he said was, "Right."
My arms dropped, and I frowned, wondering what dynamic I was missing. Naaman gave me a half smile.
"Think about what I said," he spoke over the new song.
Then, he walked off. I tapped Real's arm, not wanting to cause any more of a scene than we had. He let go enough for me to turn around, and I scowled up at him, discounting the way he looked in his bespoke suit, the luxurious fabric hugging his solid, ripped frame. Ignoring his scent, warm and masculine, woodsy with hints of spice and a dark citrus, was harder. I cleared my throat as he peered down at me, his eyes unreadable.
"Real... what are you doing here?"
My voice was thicker than I expected. His effect on me was... well... unreal.
"Dance with me, love."
His voice was soft, but it was clearly a demand. He pulled me into him, and our bodies meshed seamlessly, familiarity ensuring that they fit the way they had so many times before. Desire sparked inside me, twisting low and hot in my stomach. I swayed with him, the woman's voice wrapping us in a sensual haze. I recognized the old hit one of my aunts loved, an Atlantic Starr joint called "Secret Lovers." A wry smile lifted my lips.
"This fits," I said.
Real's gaze heated, his hands tightening on me.
"I know you wanna keep me a secret, Ev. I just can't figure out why," he mused.
I let the lyrics enfold us, unsure how he didn’t see the truth in them.
As soon as I looked at you, it would show on my face,
Then they'll know that we've been loving each other,
They can never know... oh no, we can't leave a trace...
"What we do is no one's business, Real. Now, when I left you, you were taking a break and about to binge some police drama. So, how'd you end up here?"
He smiled down at me as his big hands massaged my waist.
"After I realized that I wouldn't be enjoying your company tonight, I ran across a note from my PA from a few weeks ago, reminding me that we hadn't RSVPed. I called to ask if it was too late."
My mouth pursed in disbelief as he gave me his most innocent look. I didn't believe that story, but why didn't I believe it? Real had no reason to lie... it wasn’t like he would have followed me here. That wasn't the kind of relationship we had. I had to?—
My brain froze as his lips pressed against mine. Automatically, I opened for him, and he gave me a brief, hungry kiss. His tongue teased against mine before withdrawing suddenly. I looked up at him, wondering what the hell that was about.
"Stop all that damn thinking," he demanded.
"Real—”
My eyes made a quick sweep of the room. I was always conscious of appearances whereas Montréal Hamilton didn't seem to give a damn. I knew the right image was everything. It shared a message that words couldn't. What had Real just shared with the eyes watching us?
"What?”
His voice broke my reverie. He was scowling at me, a look that had me grilling him back.
"Stop looking at me crazy," I snapped.
"Then, don't start no shit, love. Let a nigga just vibe with you, damn."
He held me close through another song, the smooth brush of his lips against the shell of my ear as he leaned in to hum, sparking a low throb between my thighs. My body yielded to his, melting into him. Real looked and smelled delectable, and I didn't want to resist him. My pussy had no sense of self-preservation. This man had her sore, and still, she craved him. I had to get her back under control.