Page 25 of The Friend Zone
“I intend to.”
She took his hand and ignored the charge of warm tingles up her arm when his big hand enveloped hers.
He pulled her toward the velvet rope.
“You want to go downstairs?” she asked.
“Yeah. We’re about to get in the thick of it.”
“Won’t dancing down there with me create problems? You know, because of your admirers from earlier.” She lifted an eyebrow.
He bent to her ear and whispered, “I ain’t worried about them, so you don’t worry about them.”
Lawd, this man did things to her. His mouth was so near to hers, she caught a whiff of the whiskey from his drink and clenched her teeth, fighting the urge to turn her head and get a taste of his mouth—anything to alleviate the tightening of arousal in the depths of her belly.
Omar led her by the hand down the stairs, and she followed him into the crowd around the stage. Twenty minutes into the set, they were packed in tight with everyone else, squished like sardines. With the combination of sexually explicit lyrics and Omar behind her, Dana let loose, dancing in the middle of the crowd as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
T-Murder started rapping the lyrics to one of his biggest hits, “Bomb Pussy,” an ode to the pleasure he received from being inside his woman and going down on her. With his dark umber skin glistening and gold chains flashing on his bare chest under the lights, he took the audience down memory lane. Almost every person in there lifted their hands in the air, moving like one unit from side to side as they shook their asses to the beat and screamed the raunchy lyrics.
Omar’s fingertips trailed down the tattooed words on the back of Dana’s neck, and she caught her breath as warm waves of sensation undulated over her skin. His light touch was unbearably erotic, and pretty soon they were grinding on each other, Omar’s hands gripping her hips while she gyrated her bottom against his pelvis.
For the moment, she didn’t care whether this was appropriate behavior. She didn’t care that he was her friend, and chances were, he wasn’t sleeping alone tonight. His hands on her waist and hips felt good, and she would continue to relish every single minute of his touch.
12
“Idon’t want to leave you guys!” Tamika moaned melodramatically.
She, Dana, and Layla were wrapped around each other in a group hug in the parking lot. The long night was over, and they were exhausted but had fun.
Finally, reluctantly, they let go.
“Bye,” they said, waving at each other.
Rashad and Anton gave Omar some dap and then went in the direction of their own vehicles. Dana followed Omar to the Escalade, and he let her in before going around to the driver side.
“So, how was the show?” he asked as he climbed in.
“T-Murder did a good job. I had a great time.” Her voice was hoarse from hollering.
“Yeah, me too,” he said with a meaningful glance in her direction.
Heat curled through her chest as he turned on soft music and pulled into the line of vehicles exiting the lot.
They dirty-danced for most of T-Murder’s set, but Dana wasn’t sure if Omar was simply dancing because he made no comment about what occurred between them. And hell, his pocket was full of numbers.
She removed her shoes and propped her feet on the dashboard. The sounds of a jazz instrumental poured from the speakers, and she relaxed with the seat reclined. She felt high, as if buzzing off strong liquor or good weed.Oroff the contact with Omar.
As they neared a traffic light, he turned left when he should have gone straight, which would take them in the direction of her house.
“Where are you going?” she asked. Then the Waffle House building came into view. “No, you didn’t.”
“Did you really think I would take you home without your late-night breakfast?”
Dana laughed. “Of course not.”
Over the years, they had attended too many events together to count, acting as each other’s escorts, particularly when Dana was between relationships or her best friends couldn’t attend a function. When they stayed out after midnight—whether for a concert, a party, or the late night showing of a movie—they stopped at Waffle House.
Dana started the ritual, and though they didn’t hang out so late very often, Omar didn’t forget.
