Page 19 of Counting His heartbeats

The song is one I'm familiar with since my mom sang it often, which is why Zion and I look at each other singing along.

"Heart fixer... Jesus. Waymaker... Jesus. Help me, call him. If you... know Him. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus," I sing, smiling at Zion, who recites the words with me.

Another body bumping into mine has me looking to my right to see Zion's friend, Herschel, moving from side to side with his head swaying like a bobblehead. The two of us only exchanged pleasantries since I didn't enter the sanctuary until the service started following the morning prayer. I told Zion I had to check my makeup when we arrived and hid in the bathroom on thecouch, killing time. My nerves were all over the place, and I needed time to get myself together. Delaying my arrival meant I had to sit between Zion and Herschel, who smiled like a Cheshire cat before connecting our hands.

I'm unsure if he was nervous to meet, but his sweaty palms had me quickly disconnecting our hands. As far as appearances go, Herschel isn't a bad-looking guy, but there wasn't an ounce of chemistry between us. Dinner with him and Zion will be interesting, making me regret not driving myself to church.

"Oh, how precious. Oh, how precious. Precious is His nameee," the praise team croons, bringing the song to a close, and the congregation claps loudly.

"I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise shall continually... continually be in my mouth," the lead ad-libs, causing the church to go up in high praise.

My lips upturn when the organist plays the usual praise tempo, and various members dance like churchgoers do when the Holy Spirit is moving.

Yeah, I miss this.

"Y'all better praise Him," I praise, clapping and tapping my feet.

Sometime Later

Can this man be any less undesirable? Sheesh.

"I'm serious. I take my walk with God seriously," Herschel insists.

Herschel and I are having dinner because Zion suddenly forgot some work project due tomorrow and had to get home. After a silent conversation between him and me, I got into Herschel's clown car and headed to this restaurant. If Herscheldriving a small vehicle that he struggled to enter and exit was bad enough, this conversation has me ready to bolt from the table.

"So, you think your future wife will agree to you whispering scriptures while the two of you have sex?" My forehead wrinkles, and my brows furrow while I stare at Herschel, wondering which season of Jumanji I'm sitting through.

"Mhm. Have you ever read Song of Solomon? It was written for mating, and my wife will have to accept God's will for our lives."

"Oh, really. Give me an example."

Like a stubborn child whose parent repeatedly tells them the iron is hot and not to touch it, I probe Herschel for more despite the steam from the proverbial iron.

"Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: For thy love is better than wine. Because of the savor of thy good ointments. Thy name is?—"

Is this man for real?

My eyes balloon, my mouth opens and closes like a blowfish, and I fight the urge to laugh in Herschel's face. Between the twinkles in his eyes and the timbre of his voice, I'm seconds from releasing the giggles, begging to be let loose.

"Therefore, do the virgins love thee?—"

Laughter shoots from my mouth causing Herschel to stop speaking while his forehead wrinkles and a frown forms.

"I-I-I'm sorry," I say, wiping my eyes from the water falling rapidly.

"What's so fu?—"

"There is a balm in Gilead. There is a balm in Gilead," a deep, husky, and familiar tenor starts singing, instantly cutting off my laughter.

"Ja-Jawaan," I utter in a silky and breathy tone taking in the man my conscience has been attempting to keep on a constant loop in my mind.

Jawaan has my body heating like an inferno while my eyes rake over his body shamelessly. Jawaan is wearing a white shirt, gray striped pants, and white tennis shoes. His beard appears freshly cut, and his dreads are in a ball on top of his head with his sides tapered, not to mention the glow coming from his cinnamon brown skin that has me wondering what his skincare routine is.

"There... there... is... is... a balm in Gilead," Jawaan continues singing, causing my pussy to purr and thump like Jawaan is serenading her.

"Excuse me, but you're interrupting our meal," Herschel interjects while looking at Jawaan, who pulls out the empty seat next to me before sitting.

"You've been so engrossed in trying to impress Tigress that you haven't noticed me approaching. No disrespect to the Big Homie or anything, but most women don't get wet from quoting scripture. Let me offer some free game so you can get it right with the next woman because this one is destined for another," Jawaan says to Herschel before his golden orbs connect with mine, causing a shiver to invade my body. "A good serenade that causes a woman's honey to coat her slit begins with organic, soul-stirring, and electrifying connections."

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