Page 6 of B.D.E
“And again…that’s not my name.” I added a second later, because I had to get control back somehow, a shred of it at least.
“And again… I didn’t ask.” He said, cocking his head slightly, that smirk turning damn near arrogant.
His body swayed slightly, like the weight of standing was finally catching up to him. I moved toward him, not too close, but close enough to see his bandages were starting to spot red.
“You’re still bleeding,” I said.
He didn’t answer. Just looked at me with a kind of intensity I’d never been on the receiving end of before. It was like he sawlooking straight through me. Then his knees buckled slightly, and I reached out to steady him.
“Okay, no more standing,” I said firmly. “Come on, you can lie down in the reading nook until the shop opens. Just... don’t bleed on my first editions.”
He chuckled, but the sound was tired and strained. He followed me slowly, step by step as I guided him to the oversized leather chair in the corner of the book café where people liked to curl up and read. He sank into it like his body was finally giving out. I covered him with a blanket, watching the way his chest rose and fell, shallow and slow. He was already fading. I should’ve been scared, deep down, I was. But there was something else beneath the fear; something I didn’t understand yet. Something that made me stay right there beside him, just in case he needed anything. Even if he never told me his name.
After a few minutes, I noticed that he was completely out and as much as I wanted to sit right beside him and stare at his beautiful face as he slept, I knew I had to finish prepping for the café to open at 9am sharp. I walked back to the kitchen and got to work, dumping more cinnamon into the batter I’d made like I could bake this feeling away, but I couldn’t. This man was invading my thoughts and had me so flustered, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I tried once to deal with feelings like this when I was deep into my erotica books. My best friend, Tori had given me that ridiculous rose toy for my birthday last year, talking about it would change my life. It almost ended it! I was five seconds in before I thought I was having a heart attack. My legs were locked up, I completely stopped breathing, and I swore for a second the ancestors were calling me home. When I caught my breath and sanity, I threw that thing in the back of my dresser and vowed to never touch it again. Romance books were safer and that’s what I’d been sticking to lately.
With him here, those same flutters I’d felt in my stomach that eased between my thighs would surface every time I was near me. I didn’t know why though because this man was dangerous, I could sense it. Nothing about him felt safe. Nothing about the way my heart raced when I was in his presence felt normal. Still, it was in me to check on him… to help him. Maybe it was because I’d been raised by parents who didn’t just love; they nurtured too. My mama was the type to bring soup and medicine to a sick neighbor without being asked, and my daddy never even allowed my mom and I to walk on the outside of the sidewalk. That kind of care was all I ever known, so when I saw him bleeding on my floor, I didn’t see an intruder breaking in or a man holding a gun that could possibly kill me. All I saw was someone who needed help. Someone that no one had helped before and that’s what haunted me.
By the time I finished icing the last batch of cinnamon rolls, the clock on the wall said 7:42 a.m. I still had a little over an hour before the shop opened, so I wiped my hands off and walked over to check on him. He was still laying there in the oversized chair with his head tilted back, his lips parted slightly as his chest rose and fell. He looked less like a stranger to me now, less like a threat. I kneeled next to him, seeing that the bruises on his ribs were dark and the bandages that I wrapped were clean in some spots but soaked in others. There was dried blood on his skin, around the edges of the bandage. I hesitated at my first thought to offer to help him get cleaned up.
“Specs, why the fuck you breathing so close to my face? You tryna kiss a nigga?” He asked with his eyes still closed, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I cleared my throat, embarrassed that he’d caught me staring at him, but I didn’t know how being that his eyes had been closed this entire time.
Specs, say something! Not me calling myself Specs…
“Umm—I was going to ask you if you wanted to shower? I could help you… if you need it.”
Something in me wanted to help him and nurturing was just my default.
He opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow like he wasn’t expecting me to say that.
“Specs, you telling me I stink or some shit?”
“Wha—no! I was just saying that you needed to get your wounds cleaned and I could put new bandages… you know what, neve?—”
“Specs, chill, I was just bullshitting you. I ain’t really use to nobody touching me and shit, but I could use some help with a shower since a nigga still sore as fuck,” he chuckled.
“Alright, well come on. Let me help you up so we can get you clean before I have to come back down and open up.”
He nodded. I helped him up and guided him up the stairs, making sure to keep my hand close in case he stumbled. He didn’t, but he moved real slowly like every step hurt. The upstairs bathroom was small but clean and had a lavender smell from the candle I kept on the sink. It had white tiles, a plain white shower curtain and those black-and-white abstract art photos I’d scored last year at Mrs. Luna’s thrift shop down the strip. Nothing fancy just simple and good enough for just little old me and I was the only one who ever used it… until now.
I turned the water on to get the temperature right, then glanced over my shoulder. He was standing there shirtless, watching me with his eyes darker than they were downstairs. I cleared my throat and turned to face him.
“You, um… need help getting the rest off?”
He raised his eyebrow. “You offering?”
My lips parted, but nothing came out. I wasn’t even sure what I meant when I asked him that. I’d never done anything like this before. Hell, I’d barely seen a man naked outside of thecovers of the spicy books Tori always slipped into my TBR pile. Right now, he needed my help, and I wanted to give it, so even though my heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest and run the other way, I stepped forward silently and brushed my fingers over the edge of his waistband.
“I can look away,” I offered, barely above a whisper. My cheeks were burning so hot, I could feel the flush in my ears. He smirked at me again, knowing exactly what he was doing to me.
“Nah,” he murmured, “I like watching you try not to look.”
I turned away, ignoring his comment. I needed to look away because I knew that if I didn’t, I was going to keep staring. Watching the way his abs flexed when he breathed, then looking down further and really started wondering things that I shouldn’t. Like how it’d feel to straddle him. If his voice would sound the same when he growled my name or if he’d make me beg for it the way they do in books. God, I was losing all sense of decency when it came to him. I heard the shuffle of clothes behind me and the low grunt he’d made before I heard the soft sound of them hitting the tile floor. We stood in silence for a few minutes; my back still turned towards him.
“So, yeah… the water’s gonna’ run cold.”
I swallowed and turned around slow, coming face to face with what looked like an Egyptian God. He was fully naked with steam curling around his body like it was worshipping him.
