Page 21 of Body Language (Mind, Body, & Soul #2)

The restaurant smelled like spice and money. Not that fake “let me impress you with a flashy chain” money, but old, quiet, generational money. The kind you could hear in the way people carried themselves when they walked past your table.

Sitting across from me was Sincere. Sincere with the accent that melted panties faster than candle wax. Sincere with the smile that could convince a nun to sin.

“Likkle gyal,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his voice smooth as aged rum. “You look more beautiful every time I see you. What’s the secret?”

I smirked over the rim of my wine glass. “Dancing, bills, and mimosas. Keeps the skin tight.”

He laughed so loud the older couple two tables over glanced our way. That deep Jamaican laugh that rolled through his chest and always made me feel like home, even when I knew better.

Sincere wasn’t new. Sincere was the foundation .

He’d been teaching me the game since I was eighteen, when I didn’t know finesse from faith.

He taught me how to make men feel seen without giving them shit but a smile.

How to take control of a room without ever raising my voice.

How to get what I wanted without ever laying on my back—unless I wanted to.

“Tell me, Niv,” he said, as he poured more wine into my glass. “Yuh still breaking hearts wid just a look?”

“Of course,” I said, licking my lips slow. “Some habits just don’t die.”

Truth was, Sincere was the habit I never really wanted to quit. We had a love that wasn’t built on possession or fairy tales. He didn’t lie to me. Never pretended I was the only one. Hell, half the time we talked about the other women he entertained, and I respected him more for the honesty.

Sincere gave me something better than false promises. Options.

He’d always say, “I’ll never chain you, baby girl. Stay if yuh want. Leave if yuh must. Just know when yuh here, yuh treated like a queen.”

And he meant that shit. Every time.

I leaned closer, dropping my voice so only he could hear. “You know I missed you, right?”

His smirk curved wicked. “Yuh miss mi, or yuh miss what mi carry?”

“Both,” I said, shameless.

He laughed again, shaking his head. “My Niv. Brutal with the mouth, soft with the eyes.”

And the truth? I did love him. Not in the fairy tale, build a home and grow old together way. That wasn’t Sincere. Sincere loved women too much to belong to one. And I respected that.

But the friendship? The loyalty? The fact that whenever I needed him, he was one phone call and flight away? That was priceless.

And the dick? Well, that was just the bonus plan.

Sincere leaned back in his chair. His eyes stayed locked on me, that slow Jamaican smirk spreading wider as I told him about Kendrix.

“So let mi get dis straight,” he said, tapping his glass like he was trying not to laugh. “Di man tink he own yuh, but him nuh even lock yuh down? Yuh serious?”

I rolled my eyes, stabbing a piece of jerk shrimp with my fork. “Deadass. Acting like he branded me or something. I had to let him know.”

Sincere slapped the table so hard the waiter jumped. He laughed that deep, belly-shaking laugh that always got me. “Lawd Jesus. Yuh dangerous, Niv. Man probably sweating bullets right now.”

“He was,” I said, popping the shrimp in my mouth slow, making him watch my lips. “And he gone keep sweating, because I don’t do that ‘waiting for a man to figure it out’ shit.”

Sincere whistled low, shaking his head. “Cha. Poor man tink him in control, and di whole time yuh di one driving di car. Yuh nuh easy.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “And you love that about me.”

He grinned, leaning in too. “I do and I live fi dat. Mi proud of yuh, baby girl. Yuh never let no man tek yuh shine. Kendrix lucky yuh even give him di time of day.”

His words made something warm spread in my chest, but I kept it playful. “You calling me a blessing?”

“More like a hurricane,” he said, sipping his wine. “Beautiful, an’ when yuh done, nothing is ever di same.”

I laughed so loud heads turned. “You’re so damn dramatic.”

“Mi only speak di truth,” he said smoothly. Then he raised a brow. “So tell mi, yuh like him?”

I paused, swirling the wine in my glass. “More than I want to.”

“Mhm.” He studied me with that knowing look. “Dat why yuh vex. Him gettin’ under yuh skin.”

I squinted at him. “I’m not vexed. I’m… mildly annoyed.”

He chuckled. “Same thing. Yuh heart beating for him, an’ yuh mind don’t like it.”

I sighed. “Maybe. But he gon’ learn quick—if he can’t handle me, somebody else can.”

Sincere leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Yuh sure yuh ready fi dat game, Niv? Cause from di way yuh talkin’, dis one might not play wid yuh. Him might flip di whole board.”

I raised my brow, lips curving. “Good. I like competition.”

He burst out laughing again, shaking his head. “Di man nuh stand a chance.”

I smirked, stabbing another shrimp. “That’s his problem, not mine.”

Sincere hand brushed against my thigh under the table. That damn smirk played across his lips, like he knew exactly how much heat he was stirring.

“Relax, mami,” he said. “Mi just miss di feel of yuh.”

I tilted my head, pretending I wasn’t already squeezing my thighs together. “Oh, so now you touching on me like you forgot the last time?”

He laughed low, his hand squeezing a little higher. “Yuh tink mi could ever forget? Woman, mi dream ‘bout dat night. Still waiting fi the encore.”

I smirked, swirling my wine slow. “You stay dreaming.”

He leaned in closer, voice dropping. “Dreaming… an’ paying.”

That got me. My brows lifted, but my lips curved. “Since when did we start transactional dinners?”

“Nah,” he said, sliding a small black card across the table so smooth, nobody around would notice. “This is appreciation. Because yuh worth it. And mi don’t want yuh worrying ‘bout a damn ting except enjoying yuhself.”

I looked down at the card, knowing damn well the limit on it was higher than most people’s yearly salary. My chest felt warm, but I kept my face cool. “You trying to buy me?”

He smirked. “Yuh can’t be bought. But mi can make sure yuh never lack.”

My lips tugged into a smile I tried to hide behind my glass. “Dangerous man.”

“Only dangerous ‘cause mi give yuh options,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “Yuh don’t need me. But yuh want me. An’ dat make di difference.”

My thighs clenched when his thumb traced slow circles, and I damn near melted when he whispered, “Tell mi yuh don’t feel dis, Niv. Go ‘head an’ lie to mi face.”

I leaned forward, letting my lips graze the rim of my glass, giving him a look so sharp it could cut glass. “I could lie. But I like how honest my body is when you touch me.”

His grin spread wicked. “Dat’s what mi love. Yuh mouth talk tough, but yuh body always confess.”

I chuckled, setting my glass down. “Keep playing, Sincere. You gon’ mess around and get a whole performance.”

“Say di word, baby girl,” he murmured, thumb pressing a little firmer on my thigh. “We don’t even need di stage.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You crazy.”

“And yuh love it,” he shot back without missing a beat.

“Mi done wid dis,” he said smoothly, snapping his fingers once. Two men in tailored suits slid up like shadows.

“Handle the bill. Make sure mi suite ready.”

“Yes, sir,” one said, already pulling a card from his pocket.

I raised a brow. “You really out here snapping like you in The Lion King?”

He grinned. “Mi king everywhere mi go. Tonight mi just want my queen beside mi.”

I shook my head, but the warmth in my chest said different. “Careful. You start talking like that, I might get used to it.”

He leaned in close, lips brushing my ear. “Dat’s di plan.”

The suite was too damn pretty for the filth we were about to do in it. Silk sheets. Dim lighting. Floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city like it was waiting for a show.

“You know this isn’t a good idea,” I whispered, leaning back against the door as he crowded me with his body.

He smirked, brushing his lips across mine without kissing me yet. “Mi don’t do good ideas, princess. Mi do unforgettable ones.”

I tried to roll my eyes, but my body betrayed me, already melting against him. “You always got a line, huh?”

His hand slid down, gripping the curve of my ass like it belonged to him. “No lines tonight. Just truth. And truth is… yuh been on mi mind too long.”

The kiss was greedy. Hot. The kind that made me forget who the hell I was for a second. His tongue slid against mine, slow and sure, and I swore my knees buckled.

“Sincere…” I breathed when he pulled back.

“Say mi name softer, baby,” he teased, trailing his mouth down my neck. “Make it sound like a prayer.”

“You don’t need prayers,” I said, gasping when his hands tugged my top over my head. “You need therapy.”

He laughed against my chest, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. “Then mi your therapist tonight. Now tell mi what you need.”

I bit my lip, tilting my head back as his hands slid under the band of my skirt. “You already know.”

“Say it.”

“I need you to eat this pussy.”

That’s all he needed. One second I was teasing, the next, I was on my back on those silk sheets with his head between my thighs.

The first lick had my toes curling.

“Fuck, Sincere.”

He groaned against me, the vibration making me arch up. “That’s it. Give mi all of it. Don’t hold back.”

His tongue was slow, then fast, then deep—like he was trying to write his name inside me.

I grabbed the sheets, head tossing back. “Shit… don’t stop.”

“Mi nah stop till yuh run,” he said, voice muffled but cocky as hell.

“Sincere… oh my God.”

He pulled back just long enough to smirk up at me, lips glistening. “Don’t call Him now, baby. Call mi.”

By the time Sincere finally pulled back, my thighs were trembling like I just finished running suicides in a gym.

And let me go ahead and say this—

As you can see, I love an eater.

Yeah, Kendrix had me all intrigued with his smooth talk and “big dick energy,” but let’s be real, he wasn’t stopping shit. I wanted a nut, and Sincere was the cheat code.

Why not get it from a man who’s always been there delivering exactly what the fuck was needed?

See, me and Sincere had a different kind of thing. We didn’t always have to be intimate, but when we did? Whew. It was always what it needed to be. He knew the assignment before I even gave out the syllabus.

And yeah, I could’ve given him more tonight. Could’ve let him flip me over, dig deep, and put me to sleep the other way. But sometimes, all a girl wants is to get that bread, get that head, then leave.

Instead, we laid there, laughing and talking because we’d been best friends forever. Venting about life. About stress. About how both of us stayed booked and busy.

Somewhere between his laugh and him saying, “Niv, yuh know yuh mi peace, right?”

…I knocked the hell out.

When I finally woke up, the room was quiet. He was gone.

But on the edge of the bed sat a purple Chanel bag and a fat stack of bills tucked inside.

And also a note, written in his handwriting:

Niv, You know I love venting and spending time with my favorite woman. But duty calls, and I had to go see someone. Can’t wait to do this again.

I laid back against the pillows, smirking. Arlette swore she stopped my bag. Baby, she just helped me get more.