Page 17 of No Gemini Does it Better (BLP Signs of Love #2)

My brows raised toward my forehead. “W-what? Now? A road trip to where?”

“Tampa,” Kadeem answered. “We need to get to our cousin.”

“And then we’ll be out of your life forever,” Kareem vowed.

I didn’t know why hearing the word forever fall off his tongue made me feel some type of way—even more than I already was.

Everything about having Kareem and his twin brother in my apartment made my insides a jittery mess.

It was strange having them both here. My small home now felt crowded, and not just physically.

Kareem's presence alone overflowed the room with so much emotion that I couldn't ignore it. It was like the elephant in the room. My thoughts hummed with what-ifs and could-have-beens if our circumstances weren’t the way they were.

From the jump, his arrival had shaken the foundations of the carefully constructed world I’d built.

I didn’t know how to prepare for the upheaval that was bound to come from being so close to someone who was still very much a stranger but knew the most intimate parts of me.

I couldn’t stop my thoughts from spiraling, hoping and praying the Feds didn’t bust down my front door and haul all three of us away.

“You think a nigga could take a shower before we go?” Kadeem requested, his query slicing through my thoughts.

I nodded. “Bathroom is the first door on the right. The towels and washcloths are in the linen closet.”

“Bet.”

Once his brother was out of earshot, I turned to Kareem. “He’s . . . different.”

“Sorry. My twin can be aggressive when he doesn’t know you. We might look alike, but sometimes, we can be like night and day,” he acknowledged with a nod.

“I see a lot of similarities.”

He scoffed. “I bet you do.”

“Mmhm.”

An awkward silence hung over us like a dark cloud. I didn’t know what to say next, what to do, or where to move.

“Do you want space or attention right now?” Kareem inquired.

“I don’t know, . . . both?”

“I told you, your energy has been off. You think I haven’t felt the shift since you turned on the news and saw my mugshot on the TV? Now you scared to be alone with a nigga?”

“It’s not that, it’s?—”

“It’s what? I told you I notice everything, Sawyer.

And when I say everything, I mean just that.

I noticed the look in your eye that’s torn between fear and pity.

I've noticed that you haven’t been able to stop fidgeting since the TV came on.

I noticed that shit ain’t what it was. You can’t hide from me. I’ll always notice the details.”

Again, I didn’t know how to respond. It was almost as if I’d been reduced to a newborn who didn’t even know what words were.

We stood in silence, the unspoken words piling up around us like the law books on my floor.

Kareem and his brother’s arrival brought with it a storm of emotions I wasn’t sure I was ready to weather.

But here he was, and here we were, together again in a place too small to hold all the things we weren’t saying.

The trip from Jacksonville to Tampa was long, so long that when we arrived at their cousin’s house, they insisted we spend the night before parting ways and hitting the road the next morning.

Kareem and I still hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other the entire drive.

I was too trapped in my head to figure out the right thing to say while too scared of saying the wrong thing.

I swung open the bathroom door after my shower, letting the steam seep out. I rooted my feet when I saw Kareem standing on the other side.

“Excuse me,” I said, lowering my gaze to the floor. He didn’t budge. Instead, he took a step closer, causing me to drop one foot back. And then the other. “What are you doing?”

He responded by closing the door and locking it. “Say what you gotta say, Sawyer. I’m tired of this shit.”

My forehead bunched in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Get it off your chest.”

“There’s nothing to get off my chest, Kareem. I’ve said all I need to say. I’ve been driving all night, and I’m tired. All I wanna do is get some rest so that I can prepare to hit the road tomorrow, okay?”

“It’s not what you say. It’s how you act.”

“And how am I acting?” I probed, defeat slumping me against the counter.

“You’re acting out of fear.”

I pushed myself back to standing and stepped up to him to the point where we were dangerously close to touching. “Since you seem to know everything, what am I afraid of, Kareem?”

“Me. I’m not a monster, shawty. I’m just a nigga in a fucked-up situation right now. I thought you understood that.”

I did understand that even more than he knew. That was why I’d agreed to help him look for his brother. That was why I drove them to Tampa. That was why I hadn’t called the police or even notified Brit that I was in her city.

My chest deflated with a hard sigh. “All this shit caught me way off guard, and I'm sorry I switched up on you, but what else did you really expect?”

“I expected you to keep it real.”

“I don’t know what to say to you, Kareem.”

“I thought we were having a good time together, and now you actin’ real brand new with a nigga like I haven’t seen you naked. That pussy mine, and you know it, Sawyer.”

He was right. My palms itched to touch him—to feel him.

After all, it could’ve been my last chance.

I reached out, my hands sliding from his cheeks to his neck, feeling the pulse there racing just as mine was.

Kareem’s strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer until I felt every line of his body against mine.

The energy between us crackled with the promise of what was unfolding between us, unleashing even. This was no gentle exploration. It was a passion we’d summoned with every silent glance and unacknowledged touch.

“Tell me it’s mine, shawty,” he stated, his gravely Southern voice sending a tingle down my spine.

He looked good, too damn good, with that dark hair in a low fade and the beard that wrapped around his jaw giving him this rugged edge that made my pussy ache.

“It’s yours.”

Our bodies moved together, acting on our unspoken feelings as his clothes hit the floor.

His soft but possessive touch set my caramel skin ablaze, chills racing down my spine with every brush of his fingertips.

Desperation drove his movements as he pulled at my towel, an urgency that matched the pounding in my chest.

It was chaos and clarity all at once, the raw need to be closer, to erase the awkward lines of communication that had kept us apart.

We were exploring, rediscovering, taking, and giving in equal measure.

Every gasp and sigh was a testament to what we’d been denying ourselves since I’d heard that news report that ruined my life.

The world around us came to a standstill, every sound muted except for the rhythmic beat of two hearts syncing in time.

My breath hitched as Kareem’s hands traveled along my bare back, his fingers tracing paths that set every nerve ending alight.

We were lost in a dance that was as old as time yet as new as the feelings we were unleashing.

His lips found mine, silencing the negative thoughts that tried to bubble up.

The bathroom spun, but I was anchored by the solid warmth of his hard body and the erection pressed against my stomach.

I matched each of his movements, instinctively knowing how to respond, how to make him shudder just as he did to me.

But then, something hit me, and I pulled away with a worry in my eyes that unleashed the feelings I harbored but dared not say before now.

“I don’t want to get caught,” I admitted, my confession coming out breathier than I intended.

“I know,” he answered, somehow knowing my statement had a double connotation.

Pulling myself together, I tried to focus on the moment—the way my body hummed with awareness and desire for him and only him.

But then, the unexpected happened. Kareem slowly eased away with a heavy sigh and leaned against the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, and I caught the tail end of weariness etched onto his face.

The sight of it twisted something inside me.

His brown orbs swallowed mine, and suddenly, it was like there was no one else in the world.

His gaze was intense, searching, drilling into me as if he were trying to read my thoughts.

I remembered that look. It made me ache when he did it in the car.

It made me ache now. A deep, pulsing need started somewhere in my chest and spread, winding its way through me until it settled with a throb between my thighs.

I was dying for him to touch me, to bring back those sweet, stolen moments we had before the other shoe fell, and everything shifted.

I shifted my weight, restless with wanting.

I recalled how it felt the first time we touched, the thrill of doing something off-script, the rush of desire that didn’t care about right or wrong.

And damn it, I wanted to feel that again.

Despite every rational thought that screamed at me to stop, to keep my distance, I couldn’t ignore the pull, the magnetic draw that existed between us.

“Kareem . . .”

His name slipped from my lips like a plea, and I wasn’t sure what I was asking for. Forgiveness? Permission? Dick? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the space closing in around us, charged with the electricity of what might happen next.

My fingers trembled as I reached out, an instinct beyond my control, guiding them to his face.

The rough stubble of his cheek under my palms brought back a flood of sexual memories, but this wasn’t about them.

It was about the now, the pull between us that demanded to be acknowledged at least one last time.