Page 30 of My Only

A reminder that Ayla wasn’t just my best friend anymore. She was my partner for life.

I lowered my head, pressing a kiss to her curls, inhaling her scent.

I told her, “I wanna build you something as beautiful as this house one day.”

She smiled, her arms tightening around my neck. “That’s nice, but baby, I’m not trying to be married to a workaholic. How long would something as beautiful as this take to build?”

“Doesn’t matter how long.”

I ran a hand through her coils and curls, my touch lingering.

“It can take however long. I’ll always have time for you—and if I ever run out, I’ll make more.”

So many nights I had prayed for this moment.

Prayed for another chance with her.

For a way to make up for the years we lost after we stopped speaking post-college graduation.

Once I had moved to Washington, D.C., I had thought that was it. That we were done. But we weren’t. And I was so grateful for how things had turned out.

Ayla pulled back, lifting her head as the song came to an end.

Our eyes met, and I kissed her.

Deeply.

She sighed softly against my lips, her body pressing closer.

Her soft moans did it for me.

The way they always did.

Evident by the firming happening in my jeans.

Ayla giggled against my lips as the song faded into another R&B classic. “You are so damn easy.”

I tipped my head back in a laugh, making her laugh too. Before she could say anything else, I scooped her up into my arms.

She squealed in response. “Hassani!”

“It’s time for bed.”

She pointed around us. “Aren’t we unpacking?”

“Nah, we’re done,” I replied with a smirk. “As I’m sure you felt.”

Her eyes darkened for a second before she licked her lips and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go to bed.”

We stripped down and got ready for bed, me in just boxers, Ayla in a cami and panties.

Standing at our his-and-her sinks, we brushed our teeth, sneaking quick glances at each other in the mirror.

Every time our eyes met, we smiled around our toothbrushes.

When I wasn’t focusing on her, my gaze moved around the master bathroom. Everything—the shower stall, the freestanding tub, the matching sinks—had been designed with intention.

I had wanted us to have our own space but still be together, like we were now.

---