Page 4

LENNOX

I couldn’t get him out of my head.

Omir. His name alone felt like it was meant to be whispered or sung. His voice, that low, melodic tone, lingered in my mind long after our conversation ended. And then there was the way he looked at me—steady, deliberate, as though he already knew me and was simply waiting for me to catch up.

But it wasn’t just his words or his presence that had me so tangled up.

It was the fire beneath it all, the quiet intensity that crackled between us.

I hadn’t felt anything like it in years, maybe ever.

And though I told myself it was nothing more than harmless flirtation, the truth was far less innocent.

I couldn’t stop thinking about his lips.

The way they moved when he spoke, how they curved into that knowing smile, as if he had already seen the end of this story and was perfectly fine waiting for me to figure it out.

I wondered, briefly, what it would feel like to close the space between us, to press my lips to his and let the world around us dissolve.

“Girl, you zoning out over there again?”

Sherelle’s voice snapped me back to reality, and I blinked, trying to shake the warmth spreading through me.

“What?” I asked, playing dumb as I turned to face her.

Sherelle gave me a sly grin. “I asked if you’re ready to head out. You’ve been sitting there staring into space for the last fifteen minutes. Either you’re thinking about Omir, or you’re thinking about work. And since you’re still here, I’m guessing it’s not work.”

I sighed, trying to keep my expression neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh,” Sherelle said, crossing her arms. “Well, I’m tired, and I have to be up early to hit the gym for my client. You coming, or are you staying?”

Before I could answer, my gaze drifted across the room again.

Omir was behind the bar now, talking to one of his staff, but I felt it the moment his eyes found mine.

The rest of the room seemed to fade away as we locked eyes, and for a moment, neither of us moved. It was as if he was daring me to stay.

“I think I’ll stick around for a bit,” I said, breaking the silence.

Sherelle’s eyes widened, and then she let out a low whistle. “Well, well. Look at you. Little Miss All-Business finally letting loose. I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t make it weird,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help but smile.

“I won’t,” she said, grabbing her purse. “But you better tell me everything tomorrow.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I said quickly.

“Yet,” Sherelle shot back with a wink. “Good night, babe. Don’t do anything I probably would.”

I rolled my eyes as she walked away, but the moment I was alone, my pulse quickened.

The club was quieter now, the crowd thinning as the night wore on.

I glanced toward the bar again, but Omir was gone.

For a moment, I considered leaving. This wasn’t me—I didn’t hang around clubs waiting for.

. . what, exactly? A man I barely knew to sweep me off my feet? It was ridiculous.

And yet, I stayed.

There was one last spoken word performance, and soon, the hum of conversation faded as people began to trickle out. I found myself nursing the last of my wine, unsure of what I was even waiting for. Then, I felt him before I saw him.

“You stayed.” His voice was soft but warm, and I turned to find Omir standing beside me, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

“I guess I did,” I said, keeping my tone light, even though my heart was pounding.

He smiled, that same slow, knowing smile that made my knees feel just a little unsteady. “Something told me you would.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool. “Oh? And what exactly told you that?”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me. “Call it intuition. You strike me as someone who listens to that little voice inside, even when you try to ignore it.”

The accuracy of his statement caught me off guard, and I let out a small, nervous laugh. “Again, you’re awfully confident for someone who just met me.”

“Again, not confident,” he said, stepping a little closer.

“Just observant.” His words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

The room felt smaller somehow, quieter, like it was just the two of us and nothing else mattered.

“Lennox,” he said softly, and the sound of my name on his lips sent a shiver down my spine.

“Hmm?” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Stop overthinking.”

Before I could respond, his hand brushed lightly against mine, and then his lips were on mine, soft and warm and impossibly perfect. His hands rested lightly on my waist, pulling me closer, anchoring me to a moment I couldn’t pull away from even if I wanted to.

“Lennox.”

I blinked, startled, and found Omir standing in front of me, his expression equal parts amused and curious. “Hmm?” I managed, trying to shake the fog of my daydream.

“Where’d you just go?” he asked, leaning a little closer. His voice was low and teasing, and I felt the heat rush to my face.

“Nowhere,” I said quickly, though the way he raised an eyebrow told me he wasn’t buying it.

“Hmm,” he said, his lips twitching into a knowing smile. He paused, and the weight of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. “Would you like to continue the night with me?”

I froze, my heart stuttering as I tried to process his words. Was he serious? Was I imagining this too? “Continue the night?” I repeated, my voice more tentative than I intended.

“Yeah,” he said simply, leaning one elbow on the edge of the bar. “No pressure though.”

He was so calm, so easy in the way he asked, like it didn’t matter to him whether I said yes or no. But the look in his eyes told me otherwise.

I glanced toward the door, where Sherelle had disappeared not long ago, and then back at Omir. Everything about him felt. . . safe but thrilling at the same time. Like stepping off a ledge, knowing there’d be something solid to land on.

“I. . . don’t usually do this,” I admitted, fidgeting with the stem of my wine glass.

“Neither do I,” he said, his smile softening. “But I think we’ve already figured out tonight isn’t a usual night.”

I bit my lip, weighing the options. Go home, crawl into bed, and return to my perfectly ordered life, or. . . step into the unknown with a man who had me thinking about kisses I hadn’t even had yet.

The club grew quieter with every passing minute as the last few patrons trickled out.

I sat at the bar, nursing the last sip of my wine and trying not to overthink what I’d just agreed to.

Omir moved easily around the space, thanking customers, chatting briefly with his staff as they began to clean up for the night.

He seemed so in his element, as if every inch of this place was an extension of him—comfortable, warm, undeniably magnetic.

I pretended to be absorbed in the soft hum of the music still playing through the speakers, but every time I glanced his way, my pulse quickened. He caught my eye once or twice, flashing that easy, knowing smile of his, and it felt like a promise: Just wait.

Finally, the lights dimmed further, signaling the end of the night. The staff had finished cleaning up, and it was just the two of us left. Omir grabbed his coat and walked toward me, his movements unhurried but purposeful.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, as if we weren’t the last two people in the building.

“Yeah,” I said softly, sliding off the barstool.

He led me to the door, holding it open as I stepped out into the cool night air. There was a black Lambo parked outside that I didn’t notice before, and I just knew it belonged to him. It practically gleamed under the streetlights. I hesitated for a second, taking in the effortless elegance of it.

“Don’t let it intimidate you,” he teased, unlocking the car with a quick press of his key fob.

I laughed lightly, shaking my head. “I’m not intimidated.”

“Good,” he said, opening the passenger door for me. The way he said it sent a shiver down my spine, and I slid into the plush leather seat, letting the scent of polished wood and faint cologne wrap around me.

Omir settled in behind the wheel, and soon, we were gliding through the quiet streets. The city at night was a different kind of beautiful—calmer, more intimate. Streetlights cast soft halos onto the pavement, and the faint buzz of neon signs flickered in the distance.

“You didn’t tell me where we’re going,” I said, breaking the comfortable silence.

He glanced at me, his profile illuminated by the glow of the dashboard. “My place,” he said simply. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

I shook my head, surprising even myself with how certain I felt. “I haven’t.”

“Good,” he said again, his lips curving into a small smile.

As we drove, the conversation flowed easily, each exchange peeling back a layer of him I hadn’t expected to see.

He talked about his love for jazz and how opening the club had been a dream for years in the making.

I found myself admitting things I wouldn’t normally share with someone I’d just met—how work consumed so much of my life, how I often felt like I was running out of time to figure out what really mattered.

By the time we pulled into the driveway of a modern townhouse tucked into a quiet corner of the city, I felt like I’d known him for longer than just a couple of hours.

Omir parked the car and came around to open my door, extending a hand to help me out. The gesture was small but thoughtful, and it warmed me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. “Come on,” he said, guiding me toward the front door.

Inside, his home was just as effortlessly stylish as he was—clean, organized, earth tones, and subtle hints of personality in the form of framed album covers and scattered books of poetry.

“Welcome,” he said, slipping off his jacket and draping it over a chair.

I sank into the soft cushions, feeling a rare sense of ease wash over me. But before I could fully relax, Omir crouched down in front of me, his hands lightly resting on my ankles.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice catching slightly.

“Taking care of you,” he said, his tone steady as his fingers deftly unbuckled the straps of my heels and set them aside.

The intimacy of the gesture caught me off guard, and when he looked up at me, his dark eyes locking with mine, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. His touch was gentle but deliberate, his thumb brushing against my skin as if testing the boundaries of this moment.

I didn’t respond, couldn’t, as he lifted my foot and pressed his lips to my ankle. The sensation sent a jolt of warmth through me, and I fought the urge to pull away—not because I wanted him to stop, but because I was suddenly hyper aware of how vulnerable I felt.

His lips moved with reverence, trailing soft kisses up my calf to my thigh.

And then, to my utter disbelief, his tongue darted out, warm and deliberate, in circles on my skin.

A sharp inhale escaped me, and he paused, his eyes flicking up to meet mine again.

The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, and I knew he could see everything I was feeling—every ounce of hesitation, every flicker of desire I couldn’t suppress.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he said softly, his voice grounding me even as it sent shivers down my spine.

“I’m not,” I whispered, though the quiver in my voice betrayed me.

Omir smiled, a slow, knowing smile that told me he wasn’t fooled.

“Good.” He paused, lifting his head slightly, and his dark eyes met mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch.

Slowly, he let my foot rest gently on the floor, his hands still holding me in place.

“Lennox,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent.

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out at first. I could only nod, my body betraying me before my brain could catch up. “Can I kiss something else?”

Finally, I found my voice, though it was barely above a whisper. “Yes,” I said, the single word laced with more longing than I intended.

Omir’s lips curved into a devilish smirk as he rose from the floor. I felt a rush of warmth between my thighs as I anticipated what was to come.