Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
“Is that what you want to do?” I ask, my voice solemn, my heart cracking. “Walk away from me?”
She squeezes her eyes shut, blocks me out. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now.”
“You know this.”
I clasp her neck and drag her close, pressing our lips together. She withdraws, but I pursue, needing the tinder of our passion to catch fire, to remind her. It only takes a second. As soon as our lips meet, I hunt for the taste and texture of her tongue and the sweet, slick lining of her mouth. She softens, moans, leans into me, clenching her fingers in my hair, gripping my jaw, prying my mouth open wider. I let her take as much as she wants, touch me how she wants. I run my hands in a tight wave down her back and clutch the swell of her ass.
She feels so good.
She was made for me. She can’t forget that. No matter how bad this cluster fuck with Aiko looks right now, Kimba cannot lose sight of us. With subtle thrusts of my hips into her, I remind her how instantly hard the feel, the scent of her makes me.
The seeking movement is a faint echo of what we shared just hours ago at the lake house. She was mine. I was inside of her where I belonged, and if it wasn’t broad daylight on my front porch, I’d turn her dress up and be there again.
“Shit.” She groans, reaching between us to palm my dick. My teeth clench. I want to lose myself in this, desperately wish I could let her take me out, fall to her knees and suck me off. But Chaz is inside just feet away and my neighbor two houses down just came outside to mow his lawn.
“Baby,” I mumble against her lips. “Come back inside so we can figure this out.”
My words shatter the spell our bodies always work on each other and reality filters back into the haze we made. Bob’s lawnmower fires up. Two moms chatter at the stop sign, pushing strollers. An alert sounds from Kimba’s phone.
She glances down, licking lips swollen and wet from my kisses.
“Lamont’s here.” She stomps down the steps toward the Prius idling in front of my house. “I have to go.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Kimba
“So the publisher is softening some on the legal end,” Keith says. “But exerting your wrath of Kimba Allen pressure would probably help. Are you calling them today?”
I blink a few times, dispelling the mental image of Aiko yesterday standing in their bedroom crowing about having Ezra’s baby.
“What?” I clear my throat and focus on my brother’s frowning face. “Yeah. I’ll do it.”
I look around the office at our family foundation’s headquarters, like it will give me a clue of my next step. “What am I doing?”
“Where is your head?” Kayla demands from behind her desk. “Everything I’ve said to you this morning I’ve had to repeat.”
“I’m sorry.” I lean back in my seat and release a long breath. “Just a lot going on. Yeah. I’ll call the publisher. Piers found the real name of the author. She’s writing the biography under a pseudonym.”
“What’s the name?” Kayla asks.
“Um, lemme see.” I glance at my phone, flicking past Ezra’s name and all the messages he’s sent that have gone unanswered and find Piers’ last message. “Serena Washington.”
Keith frowns and sits on the edge of Kayla’s desk. “I knew a Serena Washington.”
“For real?” I ask. “Who?”
“Remember Mrs. Washington?” Keith asks.
“Our old nosy neighbor?” Kayla’s face lights with recognition. “That old lady caught me in so many compromising positions.”
“All of high school was a compromising position for you, Zee.” I laugh, ducking when she throws a paper clip at me. “You know it’s true. Mama didn’t call you fast tail for nothing.”
“So fast,” Mama says from the door. “Thought your daddy would lose his mind from all those boys coming to the house.”
“I was not that bad,” Kayla says, trying to fake outrage because she knows she was.
“You were,” Keith, Mama and I say in harmony.
The four of us laugh, and it reminds me of all the good times we had growing up. Feels like the Saturday mornings when the work was done and we’d stop for lunch in the kitchen. Laughter, macaroni and cheese, and chicken nuggets while I waited for the sun to go down, for Shabbat to end so Ezra and I could play.
Ezra.
I pull my phone out, not surprised to see two new messages from him. I haven’t responded, but he won’t stop if I don’t.
Me: Give me some space.
Ezra: Call me.
Me: Have you asked your mom about the charm?
Ezra: Not yet. Just a few things going on here, as I’m sure you remember.
Ezra: I miss you.
Damn heart. Skipping beats and shit.
Me: It’s only been a day.
Ezra: A day of you ignoring my messages.