Page 6 of Ex- Factor

Chapter six-Silas

I hadn’t meant to invade her space for so long. Even though I’d originally lied and said I only planned to stay Saturday, I found myself making excuses to stay until Sunday.

And Eshe let me.

She let me hold her in bed. She cooked for me. We had long conversations. I didn’t even have to try that hard to stay.

I could tell she wasn’t used to being alone—and I was taking advantage of that, because I really didn’t want to be away from her.

She let me wash her hair.

That’s how I knew.

Angel and Naomi always said Black women don’t just let anybody play in their hair. I understood why now.

It felt like the most intimate thing I’d ever done with a woman—more than sex, more than any confession whispered in the dark.

I felt this stupid, possessive pride because she trusted me.

Then I felt bad for Charmaine, because that was what she’d always wanted—and I just couldn’t give it to her.

That left me wondering why.

Was it me? Was it her?

Why couldn’t I give Charmaine what she wanted—or the women before her?

Maybe I couldn’t give that part of myself to anybody else because I was saving it.

Not consciously.

But in some deep, dormant part of me, I was waiting.

Waiting for the woman I kept seeing everywhere.

Waiting for her to finally see me back.

And now that she had—I was all in.

Logic be damned.

Looking up from my thoughts, my eyes landed on Eshe. She was at the stove, peeking into one of her pots. I was leaning against the counter, watching her.

“Tell me again why we’re not just going to Buya?” I asked, teasing.

“Ain’t nobody going downtown St. Pete to pay thirty dollars for ramen. The gentrifiers have taken over,” she said, cracking an egg with one hand.

“Touché,” I murmured, watching the yolk fall into the broth she’d been stirring.

She looked so damn good in my hoodie with the sleeves rolled up.

She was that domestic kind of fine that made a man want to cancel plans and claim space.

She turned around and stared at me, and I couldn’t help myself.

Stepping closer, I crowded her space.

“You are so fucking beautiful, inside and out,” I said, dragging my fingers down her cheek.

Her breath hitched.

“He was out of his mind to let you go.” I leaned in, brushing my mouth against her jaw.

“But his mistake? That shit’s a blessing for me.” I pulled back.

She just looked at me.

Her eyes did that thing they always did—searching mine, searching my face like she was trying to figure out if I was full of shit or something else.

I held her gaze, waiting.

“You’re doing too much right now. Too soon,” she finally said—but she didn’t mean it.

Her words were breathy, shaky.

I’d fucked with enough women to know when one was turned on.

She tried to pull away.

I caught her wrist gently.

“Let me kiss you again.”

“Silas…”

“Just one kiss,” I said, brushing her blow-dried hair over her shoulder.

“Unless you really don’t want to.”

When she didn’t move, didn’t speak, I leaned in.

Our lips met—soft at first.

Then her mouth opened against mine, warm and tasting like the peppermint tea she’d sipped earlier.

I kept the kiss slow—lips pressing, retreating, then catching hers again.

My thumb brushed her jaw.

Nibbling at her bottom lip, I swallowed the tiny sounds she made, and they shot straight to my dick.

I couldn’t help myself.

My hands slid under her shirt, palms meeting smooth, warm skin.

We smelled the same—like her soap.

She felt so good, her hips arching just enough to tell me she was right there with me.

I tugged her shirt up, inch by inch, until she was bare in front of me.

God, she was beautiful.

She had the prettiest breasts I’d ever seen.

She gasped when I kissed her collarbone, one hand cupping her waist.

She was melting into me, and I was dangerously close to forgetting every reason I told myself I was gonna take things slow with her.

Then—like a switch—she stiffened and pulled away.

“I can’t do this right now, Silas,” she said, voice breathy but firm.

I froze, heart thudding.

I nodded. I wasn’t mad.

I grabbed her shirt and helped her slip it back on like it was nothing, because a “no” right now wasn’t stopping me from my long-term goal.

I kissed her forehead and let my lips linger there as I spoke.

“Damn,” I whispered against her skin. “Gonna have to talk to my therapist about how you keep rejecting me.”

She let out a soft laugh. “I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “Don’t feel bad for protecting yourself. Set boundaries for me, baby. I’ll wait,” I said.

“I’ve got time for you.”

I sighed dramatically, trying to lighten the mood.

“It would’ve been easier waiting if you’d let me get a titty in my mouth before stopping me. I learned my lesson—straight to the nipples next time.”

She laughed and shoved me away. “You’re stupid.”

We ended up on the couch for the rest of the day, watching TV and talking.

Sitting side by side.

Then laying down, her back to my chest.

She fell asleep first, and I stayed still, head buried in her hair, breathing her in.

When I woke up, it was early Monday morning.

I watched her sleep for a while—her lips parted, a tiny line of drool at the corner of her mouth.

I smiled and eased off the couch.

I ordered her a coffee like she liked it—black with vanilla, no sugar—and a breakfast sandwich with turkey sausage and a hash brown.

I waited for the delivery to be dropped off, then scribbled a note on the bag:

Have a good day at work. You deserve that and more. —S

I left quietly, locking up behind me.

I didn’t want to distract her from getting her day started—and I knew if I stayed, I’d try to convince her not to go to work.

When I stepped outside and the morning air hit my skin, all I could think was—

I smiled at the rising sun, feeling a sense of calm, I hadn’t known in years.

Eshe felt like a fresh start.