Page 109 of Love, Rekindled

I let her go for now. Over the years, I’ve learned when to pursue and when to fall back, biding my time and playing the long game. Twelve years is a very long game. It was one kiss. One conversation.ThatI could walk away from. I did. But the kiss we just had? The attraction simmering between us…thatis worth exploring. This isn’t about then. It’s aboutnow.

I follow more slowly, and as expected, there’s no sign of Takira when I reach the foyer. I glance through the front door someone is holding open and see her standing outside. I watch her for a few moments before an Uber pulls up and she leaves. I’ll figure out my next step later. There’s a pattern in my life. Yes, I’m always ready, prepared when the moment comes, but opportunities have a habit of presenting themselves to me. I’m just the guy who recognizes when they come and knows how to make the most of them. Pundits have often drawn parallels between my career and guys like Tom Brady, who, as a sixth-round draft pick, was the back-up quarterback. When the starter Drew Bledsoe was injured, Brady had to step in. Seven Superbowl rings later, the rest, as they say, is history. Preparation meeting opportunity. Discipline making up for deficits. That’s always been my calling card, too.

I wander outside, grinning when I see my friends lounging by the pool. Lotus is perched on Kenan’s knee. Iris and August are stretched out, entwined on a lounge chair, holding hands.

“You guys are sickeningly sweet,” I say in mock disgust, flopping into an empty chair at the table beside Kenan and Lotus.

“How will you survive all this disgusting sweetness on our bae-cation?” Lotus asks, biting Kenan’s ear and waggling her brows at me.

“Oh, you mean the geriatric cruise.” I chuckle. “Also known as Kenan’s fortieth birthday party?”

“You don’t want a free two-week ride on a yacht in the Mediterranean?” Kenan grumbles, tucking his chin into the curve of Lotus’s neck. “Stay your ass at home.”

“Yeah, Naz,” August says, standing and walking over from the lounge chair. “It’ll be all couples, and we know how awkward that could be for you since you haven’t had a meaningful relationship in, oh…ever.”

“He has a very meaningful relationship,” Kenan deadpans, “with his trainer.”

“Stop teasing him,” Iris chides, joining us at the table. “It’s not his fault he has commitment issues.”

“I do not have commitment issues.” I laugh, leaning the chair back on two legs.

“He just hasn’t found the right person,” Lotus says, narrowing her eyes in that way she has that makes you feel like she’s peeled your skin back and found something interesting. “Though he was all up in Takira’s personal space today.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I look over the infinity pool, not meeting the curious eyes of my friends. “Tell me more about this cruise we’re going on. Who’s coming?”

“Well, the four of us, obviously. And there’s…” Lotus counts on her fingers silently. “Six couples.”

“And you.” August grins.

“You could always bring a plus one,” Lotus says.

“I don’t have a…” The rest of my denial gets lost in a jumble of thoughts as a brilliant plan emerges. One that formulates as yet another opportunity presents itself.

“So, Lotus,” I say, tossing her a devious grin. “Does she have toknowshe’s my plus one?”

CHAPTER SIX

~TAKIRA~

I drank toomuch and didn’t fuck enough.

Correction. I didn’t fuckat all, and it’s been so long that I’m feeling it. My head pounds, and my pussy throbs. She’s mad at me for walking away from what could have been—but now we’ll never know—the best dick of my life. Maybe Naz wouldn’t deliver on that kiss, but the way he took my tongue in his mouth and sucked hard while his big hands were so gentle at my throat, on my shoulders, arms, back? That was a man who knew what he was doing, and he wanted to do it to me.

And I’ll be damned if I didn’t want to let him.

“Shit.”

I roll onto my back and slide a hand into my panties beneath the coolness of the sheets. As soon as I got home, I downed quite a bit of wine, hoping to take off the edge Naz pushed me to. I peeled that bodysuit off, tossed my Jimmy Choos into a corner, and crawled in bed bare. I woke up soaked from dreams of that man, a collage of the past, the present, and the future he gave me a glimpse of last night with a mere kiss. A future where he fucks me like I’ve been wanting, needing for a long time. I like it hard and deep and nasty.

No apologies. No shame.

My sister even got me a vibrator for Christmas. My peopleknow. None of those Groundhog dates have led to anything—not only no relationships, but no hook-ups. I love sex, but I’m discriminating. Not just anyone is getting up in here, and so far, I haven’t been impressed by the LA buffet.

The last great orgasm I wasn’t personally responsible for occurred two weeks ago at an industry party. There was this girl…Janna, I think. Her name is fuzzy. The way that chick robo-tongued me for like an hour—that part is crystal clear. She left no crumbs. I find women tend to take their time—to be attuned to your body’s responses. Once they find a spot, theystaythere. It would be really convenient if I didn’t also like to be filled, like, to the brim with dick. If I didn’t like a man’s rough hairs abrading my legs and crave that weight on top of me, behind me. If I didn’t like to wake up tucked into the solid bulk of a man at my back, but I do. I’ve given and received to all and enjoyed it all. I want to feel good with people I like and respect. Whatever you call that, that’s what I am. Bisexual.Sexual. Others can choose to label it. I just live it.

I work my clit, slick and swollen between my legs, trail the other hand up my torso to squeeze my breast, pluck at one nipple. My body responds, but there’s something detached about this. Something almost mechanical that leaves me cold inside even as parts of me go hot. I give up, jerking my hand from my panties and letting it fall by my head in a clenched fist.

Naz’s handsome face keeps crowding my thoughts. That kiss—hot, commanding, tender—has me shook. Left me wanting something I can’t quite put my finger on, no pun intended. It’s more than just sex. It’s curiosity. It’s fascination. Excitement. I can’t name all the emotions Naz sparked in me last night, but I know they picked up from where they left off that night so many years ago. We talked and made out that night, sure, but we were just kids. Last night—that was some grown folks shit, and I’ve rarely—if ever—felt an attraction that intense.

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