After the Kiss Read online

  I flipped on the chil and walked smoothly to the seat furthest from her and sat down with a sigh. "That makes two of us."

  She fiddled with the napkin in front of her, stealing glances at me. I pretended not to notice, but I felt her gaze burn into me. I slowly drew my eyes up and when her eyes dropped to the tablecloth, I did the same.

  "So how are things?" I said, trying to make smal talk. Conversation was my friend.

  Chatter meant no time to sit and stew about her. "School or whatever?"

  "School is good. Keeping me busy." She bit her lip and blinked those brown eyes at me.

  "And how about you? Work, I mean."

  I made a sound at the back of my throat. "Work is good. Keeping me...busy." It was the truth. While I was little more than a chauffeur most days, Nikolai had business as far as the city.

  I'd yet to see any real action, besides a little intimidation here and there, but if I could gauge the jealousy that poured off Boris in buckets, it was only a matter of time. "Not doing anything as life changing as molding young minds. Elementary ed, right?"

  Her lips spread and I got the ful bril iance of her smile. It was genuine and when it broke, I missed it. "You remembered." She gave me a long look. "You don't think what you're doing changes lives?"

  There was an edge to her voice that caught me by surprise. She’d al but cal ed me out.

  She seemed so fragile and gentle, but she had bite.

  Their butler bought my goblet. It tasted just like tap water and I took a couple of swal ows before I replied. "I think what I do is a little different."

  "You're different." Those chocolate drops bore into me, so much so that I was the first to break the stare. "You're not like the others."

  I thought back to her folder. Smart girl, from middle class roots. Beautiful, though that was a given--Maxhew Kournikova wouldn't date anything less. But nothing in that folder answered the big question. What the hel was a smart, nice girl like her doing tangled up with a crime prince?

  "Babe, have you checked Facebook?" Max breezed into the room and his chair screeched on the hardwood floor as he slammed into the seat unceremoniously.

  She shook her head, forcing a smile when she turned her attention to him. "What's up?"

  "You know that crazy bitch Kevin was dating? The one from Alpha Alpha Alpha?"

  "What about her?"

  "Bitch fucked his car up. Keyed it."

  "Huh." She brought her glass to her lips. "Crazy."

  His forehead scrunched, like he was confused. "Did you hear me? She ruined his ride."

  "Yeah," she said half-heartedly. "That sucks."

  He leaned back in his chair, giving her a long look that made me want to knock out some of his teeth. It was one of impatience. Like an unruly child who wasn't the center of attention.

  He final y looked over at me, then back at her. "Were you guys talking? Cuz I'd absolutely hate it if I interrupted something."

  Her face was pained. "Don't be sil y, Max."

  "Oh so now I'm sil y?"

  "No," I cut in. "But it's a little sil y that you expect her to be Chatty Kathy when you're disrespecting her."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Your language," I said bitingly, pummeling him with my gaze. "You shouldn't use that kind of language around a woman. It's disrespectful."

  I knew I was goading him. Hel , I could see the steam shooting from his ears. It was strange, 99% of the women in my past would cal me a womanizer, finding solace between countless legs and losing countless numbers. But there was something about the embarrassment that colored Ebony's eyes. Like she knew that I thought she was something special, yet here was the guy she was with, throwing around 'bitch' like he was at the bar with his pals. Like she wasn’t special at al .

  "You want a piece of me, asshole?" Max seethed.

  "That's not necessary," I said cool y, daring him to make a move. "But it seems like al this-" I made a grand gesture. "-And someone forgot to put aside some money to buy you some manners."

  He snapped to his feet. The fact that the butler calmly unloaded trays on the table and quietly exited spoke volumes. He was a hothead...and even if I didn't quench my thirst to knock him down a peg, someone, somewhere, someday would.

  "I'm gonna kick your ass!" Max roared.

  I didn't even flinch. "Bring it."

  "Maxhew!" His mother's airy voice oozed in as she strutted into the room. "Please don't be rude to our guest."

  "Are you shitting me?" he said, looking at her in shock. "He mouthed off at me, Ma. I can't let that slide."

  "You can--and you will." Nikolai strode in behind his wife. He was drinking red wine from a glass, but it may as well have been blood from a skul .

  Max let out another string of obscenities under his breath then slumped back into his seat. "Whatever."

  Mrs. Kournikova poured her glass of tea, the throaty drip the only sound as Kournikova took his seat at the head of the table.

  Her eyes were fil ed with contempt, but she wore the same plastic smile when she tilted her head toward me then Ebony. "I hope you two brought your appetites." She rang a bel and I had to stifle the desire to laugh at the absurdity. The condescending tinker made a woman in a sleek black dress appear with a basket, fil ed to the brim with flaky pastries. She sat it in the center of the table.

  "We'l have a bit of tea and scones before-"

  I leaned to the table and grabbed one, rethought it, and grabbed one more and plopped back into my seat. "Great! I'm starved."

  Mrs. Kournikova’s mouth fel open as I chewed it nice and slow, interspersing my smacks with moans.

  Nikolai's face was stone; Max was cal ing me everything but a child of God under his breath. But Ebony was smiling.

  After I swal owed the last bit, I sniffed, turning to the woman standing near the door.

  "What's next?"

  6

  EBONY

  I put down my espresso and pul ed off my jacket. Beans and Brews was surprisingly slow for a Wednesday night. I had a prime spot tucked near the back, with my own cafe table and VIP access to the outlets for my laptop.

  I took a sip of my latte as I powered everything up and got situated. I definitely had a ful docket since the end of the semester was just around the corner. While I was back in Dr.

  Howel 's good graces after doubling up on my sessions with Julio, I stil had two papers due in the next two weeks and a handful of exams. Beans was my last hope as far as getting in a productivity binge since Liani was playing house with some guy that liked to watch TV on ful blast and walk around in his boxers and the library nooks were fil ed with people that had my same idea about tackling end of the semester stuff.

  I bent over to my backpack and pul ed out my textbook. When I leaned back up and saw him, I dropped it on the ground with a smack. Demetrius--decked in a wool coat with the col ar up, his dark hair slicked back. I opened my mouth to say hel o, but snapped it shut. The last thing I needed to do was cal him over, considering how he made me feel the last time I saw him. Butterflies fluttering in my stomach? Try a stampede. When Max came out, talking about one of his dumb friends, Demetrius had cal ed him out and spoke up for my honor. Even saying that made me feel like something out of a regency novel.

  It wasn't my first awkward dinner during which Max got in one of his moods. The last soiree I remember one of his friends dropping the N word so casual y that I was awestruck—and doubly so when Max didn't even defend me or cal the guy out. Apparently guys flirting with me was taboo, but they could drop racial epitaphs and it was no biggie.

  But I had a feeling if Demetrius was on my arm, his quick tongue would have reamed the guy for using that kinda offensive mess. He wouldn't let it slide. He was different, and that uniqueness put him squarely under my skin.

  I bit back my hel o. Al the more reason why you should let him walk right out the door.

  You have a boyfriend.

  But just after he capped his cup, he gave the place a quick scan with those aquamarine ey
es, stopping hard when he saw me.

  I gave him a weak smile and he breezed over. He looked so fly with his silver button down shirt and slacks peeking out from his jacket. "Hey you."

  "Hey yourself."

  I brought my hands to my neck, fondling with my pearls. "I, uh, wouldn't have pegged you for a Beans drinker."

  "No?"

  I shook my head. "Less espresso and more Folgers."

  "That stuff tastes like shit," he grimaced. He held up his cup. "Americano. Worth every penny." He gave me a pensive look, taking in my makeshift office. "You're in the middle of something. I'l leave you to it." He gave me one last smile and turned to leave.

  Let him go. "Wait."

  He stopped and pivoted slowly. "Wait?"

  "Y-You should join me." I said quickly. I sounded wayyy too eager. "I mean, for a little bit.

  If you're not busy."

  He hesitated, and I saw that the hand that held his Americano was rattling. He was nervous? As nervous as I was? Then that meant...

  "You know what? Nevermind."

  "Now wait a second," he breathed, his voice thick and smoky. "No one likes an Indian giver."

  I crossed my arms. "An Indian giver?"

  "Yep." He pul ed out the seat across from mine. "You extended an invitation, then rescinded it. Classic Indian giving."

  I looked him dead on, the sides of my mouth twitching. "Wel , that's because you didn't give me an answer."

  "Ah," he winked. "Wel , yes."

  "Great," I shot back. "Glad to hear it."

  "Good," he chuckled. He took a gulp of his Americano and let out a sigh. He pointed at my cup. "What's your poison?"

  "Latte," I answered. "Wet." Jesus, did I real y just say that? My cheeks burned as I cleared my throat, hoping I wasn't wearing my attraction on my sleeve.

  "Sounds delicious." The last word dropped from his lips like honey and sent ripples of tingles up and down my spine. I took in his lips, thick and juicy as he ran them together. Lips like that belonged on mine, running up and down my body, running over and under me.

  I pried my eyes away and powered my laptop down, trying to seem nonchalant. "So that dinner a few weeks back...was real y something, huh?"

  "The Kournikovas are something," he said with a snort.

  I agreed with him there. They lived like royalty out on the edge of town, with their multi-mil ion dol ar house and staff waiting on them hand and foot. Even though Max's mom had been cordial, giving me one of those air kisses and asking al about me when we'd met, I was no dummy. It was bad enough that I didn't come from a good, upper class family and the fact that I came from a black family was even worse.

  But Max insisted on inviting me over there, even though it made me uncomfortable.

  Denying him meant an argument and I had no fight left. I'd prepared myself for a night ful of dishes I couldn't pronounce and avoiding his father's steely glare. But Demetrius showed up. He changed everything.

  "I've been meaning to thank you." I folded my hands in my lap, trying to steady them.

  "For what?"

  "For the dinner at the Kournikovas."

  "I didn't prepare it. Your thanks belong to her battalion of staff."

  I narrowed my eyes. "You know what I mean." He stared back at me, his attractive face blank. "For what you said to Max."

  "I just said aloud what we both were thinking."

  I wringed my hands under the table. Was he cal ing me out now? There was something about the way he said both that didn't sit well with me. "He's a nice guy when you get to know him." Why the hel was I defending Max?

  "Uh huh."

  "Underneath the macho routine."

  "Right." He finished off his drink with a mighty gulp. "There's no need to mince words. It's just me and you here, Ebony. He's a douchebag. Just because he opens the door and remembers anniversaries and tel s his mother he loves her doesn't make him any less so."

  "And what are you?" I fired back indignantly. I knew there was truth to what he was saying, but I couldn't digest it. If Max was a douche, what did it make me for staying with him?

  "I'm a man that does his job," he said cool y. "Because I don't have a Demetrius Estate, only a stack of bil s that won't pay itself." He cocked his head to the side. "What's your excuse?"

  I was flabbergasted. "I, uh..." His question echoed in my head, over and over, col iding with the sound of Max's fists as he pummeled Scott, the crunch of his boots as he kicked the waiter outside of La Chateau. My throat closed, my conscience adding its own screams to the crescendo.

  I had no excuse. But I'd be damned if I said that out loud.

  I began stuffing my things back in my backpack. I didn't even bother putting my laptop in its sleeve. I'd barely drunk my latte, but it didn't matter. I couldn't be there, sit there with him for one more minute.

  "I'm sorry," he said, rising to his feet. "I was out of line."

  I pul ed my jacket on and loped my bags on. "It's fine. Take care."

  I moved my legs quickly, everything around me a blur of light and sound. My keys were in my pocket and I wrangled them. I just needed to get in my car, pump up the music so loud I can't think and drive. I closed the passenger door and stepped around to the-

  "Ebony."

  He'd fol owed me. He was right there. Close enough to touch.

  "Ebony, I'm sorry,” He said softly. “I had no right."

  My vision was cloudy. I couldn't cry. I just couldn't. "Just leave me alone, okay?"

  But he didn't. He stepped closer, reaching out with both hands on my forearms. It wasn't fair. His whole body seemed so hard and muscled. Like a machine. Kournikova's machine. A man like that shouldn't be so gentle. His voice shouldn't be so soothing.

  My nostrils flared as a tear broke from the rest and spil ed down my cheek. "You had no right? Wel , me and Max? I have no excuse."

  The floodgates opened and I sobbed, final y letting go of al my frustrations. He brought me to his chest and I breathed him in, his earthy smel wrapping me in a cocoon of warmth.

  "It's gonna be okay," he said softly, caressing my back. "It's gonna be alright."

  Everything pointed to things being in a zip code far from alright, but as he kept stroking me, I let myself believe it and the tears tapered off.

  I pul ed back a little, sniffling. I glanced at his shirt, soggy from my tears. I let out an embarrassed scoff as I swiped at my eyes. "I'm sorry."

  "No problem." He was looking down at me. He took a finger and brushed a braid from my eyes, tucking it behind my ear. I stood frozen. If I moved, this moment, the feel of that finger on my skin, would go away. And I wanted it to last.

  "Demetrius." I said his name and it was a prayer to anyone that would listen. In this moment, I didn't care who saw. I didn't care about the repercussions. I just wanted him to kiss me.

  He tilted my chin and leaned down...and did just that.

  ****

  TONY/DEMETRIUS

  How could I not kiss her? I'd taken a shot at her with my hostile question about why she was with Max. It was partly as a defense mechanism, especial y when I saw those stars in her deep brown eyes. Those stars would get us both in trouble.

  But more than anything, I genuinely wanted to know. I wanted her to snap back at me, to prove that she stuck out with him because she was weak, or hopeful that one day she'd have her own estate if she kept her lips shut and let the shadiness slide. But her indignation proved otherwise. She knew she had no excuse for staying with him and couldn't bear that truth. And when she'd looked up at me with the tears glistening on her cheeks like diamonds, so beautiful, so tender, I couldn't bear to not kiss her.

  Her lips were soft against mine, pliable and as delicious as silk. I tasted the salt of her tears and a hint of cherry from her gloss. She was mine in this moment, this heartbeat--and I was hers.

  As I pul ed her in deeper, her womanly scent, vanil a and innocence, clawed into my chest, setting my heart on fire. The sparks created a chain reaction that consumed me. Wh
en my hands veered into her coat, careening over the curves that I'd dreamed about since the moment I saw her, my cock swel ed in my pants. It too wanted to know her, to feel the center of her pulsing around it.

  She pul ed from me and I swayed, drunk off the taste of her. God, she was beautiful with those round eyes gazing up at me, torn and conflicted. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in and out. Those lips, those heavenly lips, quivered like the longing that rushed through me. The intricate braids that framed her acorn shaped face were like a dark crown. The kinky curls wrapped and weaved as she tossed her hair and took a step back.

  "I-I'm sorry." I wasn't. Kissing her felt more right than anything I’d done in a while. But I felt it needed to be said. "Ebony…I shouldn't have."

  I waited for her response. A slap. A scowl. Or something worse--leaving me there.

  Making a point to never see me again. I'd take it al , al the pain, al the blame of the kiss. But never seeing her again...

  She stepped back toward me, licking her lips. "Don't apologize. Don't you dare."

  In a beat of a heart, she wrapped her arms around my neck and shoved her lips against mine, crushing her body into mine. It was no longer a stolen kiss, an irrational personification of my irresponsible desire. It was her hands locked behind my neck as she pul ed me into her. It was a dual attraction. Us.

  As I held her face between the palms of my hands, I felt her want radiating from her. A silent pul that didn’t need words. Just movements. Action. When she moaned into my mouth, the sound went straight to my groin. Would she make those sounds when I fucked her? Would she beg me not to stop?

  A car rumbled past and the sound of it rattled me from my stupor. I ended the kiss, but I held fast to her. The connection, the intensity that I ran from; magnetism that made one throw caution to the wind; it wouldn't let me release her. Not yet.

  "I've wanted to do that for weeks. Ebony-" I stopped when she put her hands over mine, interlacing the fingers. She held stil , like she was drinking in my touch before she pried my hands from her face.

  She staggered back, slumping against her sedan. Her face clouded over, like the realization of what we’d done was sinking in. "We can't...this...this isn't right!"