Page 37 of Body Language (Mind, Body, & Soul #2)

Must be willing to accept bad arts-and-crafts proposals (pending)

She stared at it for a solid thirty seconds before she looked at me. “You did not just…” Her voice cracked, but she was smiling.

“Hell yeah, I did,” I said, keeping it light.

“Look, I know you don’t like cliche. I could’ve done roses or a dinner or one of those corny ‘will you be mine’ cakes.

But that’s not you. This?” I gestured to the ridiculous display.

“This is the most ‘you’ shit I could think of. A little crazy, a little bold, and way too much glitter for a man my size to be buying at the craft store without people asking questions.”

She laughed and I stepped closer.

“Niv, I get it now. Why you need clarity. Why you need a title before you let somebody in your space for real. And I’m telling you… I want to be that title. Not because I like you. Not because I want you. But because I love you.”

Her smile faltered in that way where you know the other person’s hearing something they’ve been waiting on without admitting it.

I pulled the crooked Monopoly card off the table and held it out. “So… Niveah Elise, will you be my girlfriend? My official girlfriend? On paper and in practice.”

She took it slow, walked over, plucked the card from my fingers, looked at it like it was something worth framing. Her eyes got glassy, and she blinked fast, like she wasn’t about to cry but also might.

“You really made a Barbie of me,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “And I’m keeping it on the table so when people come over, I can say ‘That’s my girlfriend.’”

She laughed again, but this time it broke a little in the middle. She looked at me, serious. “Yes, Kendrix. And for the record… I love you too.”

I didn’t wait for her to overthink it. I just pulled her in, kissed her until her hand slid up the back of my neck and her body melted into mine.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought about how a crooked, glitter-covered table in my too-big house just became the most important piece of furniture I owned.

She stepped into my bedroom and stopped dead in the doorway, eyes locking on the sleek chrome pole in the center of the room. The overhead lighting caught it just right, making it gleam like I’d polished it for the occasion.

Her mouth fell open in a slow grin. “Kendrix… you did not put a damn pole in your bedroom.”

I leaned against the wall, arms folded. “I did. Just for you.”

Her eyes shifted back to the pole, then to me. “If I dance for you… you gone behave?”

I tilted my head toward the bed. “Not a chance. But I’ll sit still for now.”

She bit her lip, grabbed her phone, and hooked it to my house Bluetooth. A soft static click filled the air before that slow, honey-dripped intro of Love Language by SZA floated through the speakers.

I sat back on the bed, leaning against the headboard, watching her move like I had all the time in the world.

Her hand wrapped around the pole, slow, her hips rolling in perfect sync with the beat.

She didn’t just dance. She told stories with her body, every sway and arch a sentence, every look she threw me a paragraph.

That’s what got me from the start. Her body spoke louder than most people’s mouths, and I understood every damn word.

She let her fingers trail up the pole as she spun, that slow climb like she was measuring my patience.

I knew exactly what she needed before she even did.

I could tell by the flex of her shoulders, the way her breath hitched when she dipped low, the way her eyes held mine when she flipped upside down, thighs gripping chrome like it was an extension of herself.

Halfway through, I couldn’t help it.

“Dance naked for me,” I said.

Her eyes glinted in the dim light, but she didn’t stop moving. She reached for the tie on her top and let it fall, her breasts spilling free in a way that made my pulse slam against my throat. The bottoms followed, sliding down those hips I’d dreamed about touching without barriers.

And then she was just… her. No layers. No armor. Every inch of her body mine to see. The raw and real version of Niveah Elise—unapologetic, unashamed, and somehow, even more beautiful like that than she was dressed to kill.

The chorus hit, SZA’s voice floating.

Nobody put that purpose in me like you do,

Nobody get that work up out me like you do

Nobody get the truth up out me quite like you

You the definition of my right hand

Never mind riding backseat when you lead me…

She closed her eyes for a second like the lyrics were touching her too, then looked right at me. And it hit me, that was her love language. Not flowers, not dinners, not pretty words. That. Her body moving for me, speaking to me without a single syllable.

I thought I could only imagine a woman like her, someone who could challenge me, burn me alive, and still make me feel safe in the same breath. But she was real, standing bare in my room, and I was falling in love with her in ways I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.

When she slid to the floor, still moving, still telling me things without saying them, I swung my legs off the bed. The second her feet hit the rug, I had her in my arms.

And the way she gasped when my mouth found her neck? That told me everything I needed to know.

The second her bare skin pressed to mine, something in me shifted.

Yeah, I wanted her. Hell, I needed her.

Her breath caught when my hands slid down her back, palms spreading over the curve of her ass. I pulled her closer until every inch of her lined up against me. She was still warm from the dance, skin flushed, heartbeat racing against my chest. I kissed her like I’d been starving for her for years.

I laid her back on the bed, the pole just feet away like a witness to what she’d started.

My hands traced the same paths her body had taken during the dance—over her ribs, down the smooth plane of her stomach, around the dip of her hip.

I wanted to memorize her the way she’d just told me to without words.

She looked at me, eyes dark, mouth parted. “Kendrix…”

“I’m here,” I told her. “All the way.”

I kissed down her body, slow enough to make her squirm, tasting her skin, feeling her tremble under my mouth. When I reached her thighs, I didn’t rush. I wanted to watch her fall apart, to see the truth she’d never speak out loud.

My tongue slid against her, deliberate, and her hips jumped. She bit her lip hard, probably to keep from moaning, but I wasn’t having it. I hooked her legs over my shoulders and went in deeper, flicking my tongue until her breath turned ragged and her hands fisted in the sheets.

“Kendrix…” This time it was almost a cry.

I looked up at her, chin wet, and said, “Say my name again when you cum.”

It only took a few more seconds before she broke, hips grinding up into my mouth, that sweet, sharp sound spilling from her like she couldn’t hold it in. I kept going, drawing it out until she was shaking, her thighs clamped tight around my head.

When I finally pulled back, she was breathing like she’d just run for her life. I crawled up over her, kissing her hard, letting her taste herself on my tongue.

And then I pushed inside her until we both groaned at the stretch.

Her nails dug into my shoulders, not to hurt but to anchor herself, and I started moving, steady at first, then harder, faster, until the rhythm felt like it matched the pounding in my chest. Every time her eyes met mine, it was like the rest of the world faded, and it was just us.

Her body was telling me everything I needed to hear while mine answered back in the only way it knew how.

“Niv…” I rasped, holding her face so she couldn’t look anywhere but at me. “I love you.”

Her lips trembled, but she didn’t look away. “I love you more.”

That was it. The match to the gasoline I’d been holding in. I kissed her hard, gripping her like I was afraid she’d disappear, and drove into her until we both came undone.

When it was over, I didn’t move right away. Just stayed there, inside her, forehead to forehead, catching my breath while my hands smoothed over her hair.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was missing something.

She was everything.