Page 16 of Gotta Jones For Ya
“And that hurt you?”
I nodded. “Fuck, yeah. She was the first person I thought about goin’ legit for. And when she left, it was like… I ain't havenobody to prove shit to no more. So I got worse. Colder. More dangerous. I ain’t trust no woman after that. Just was ‘bout pussy and a nut. Until now.”
Her brows twitched. “What’s now?”
“You, Ny,” I said, dead in her eyes. “I don’t know what the fuck this is yet, but in God, I really wanna fuck wit’ you. You got a nigga Jonesin’ bad, baby. Iseeyou and Ifeelyou.”
She didn’t respond. Just lay there lookin’ at me like she was tryna decide whether to believe me or not. I slid my hand up her side, palm restin’ under her breast. “I’m not here to fix you,” I told her. “I’m here to fuck wit’ you. Respect you. Protect you. And if you let me in, I promise I won’t treat you like you disposable.”
Her eyes glossed over again. This time, a tear slid down. “Fuck, Keon,” she whispered, shakin’ her head. “You can’t say shit like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll start falling for your crazy, delusional ass.”
I smiled a lil’ bit. “Fall. I’ll catch you.”
She pressed her lips together, wiped her cheek, then kissed my chest softly before lyin’ her head back down. “Oh, God. What am I getting myself into with you?”
“Shit, I’m tryna meet your mama and have you sitting at my Granny’s table for Sunday dinner.”
She let out a breathy laugh. “Damn. You wanna meet my mother? Her ass stays on vacation with my stepfather. They’ll be around sometime for the holidays, but I think I’ll run from you before then.”
I held her close. My lips brushed her forehead. “Then I’ll chase you.”
She laughed again, layin’ her head on my chest. “Toxic ass.”
“Yup,” I said, kissin’ her cheek. “But I’m your toxin now.”
And wit’ my arm holdin’ her tight, her legs tanglin’ wit’ mine, and my lips against her temple, I felt her breath slow down. Her body go still. She finally let herself fall asleep. Safe. Naked. In my arms.
Chapter EIGHT
Two Weeks Later
The “bad bitch” playlist at the shop was in full rotation. SZA, Meg, Ari Lennox, and a little Summer flooded the speakers, and a soft scent of coconut and clean linen filled my shop.
“Okay, girl. Open up a little more for me,” I said, leaning over my client Alisha, isolation tweezers in one hand, a .05 lash fan in the other. “Blinking like crazy over here.”
She giggled. “I’m sorry, but these lights got my eyes spazzing.”
“That’s ‘cause you was out drinking last night, tell the truth,” I teased, dipping the lash fan in glue and securing it to her outer lash. “You still smell like Casamigos.”
“Guilty as charged.” She laughed, then added, “Also… where you get that new moisturizer from? Your skin is glowing!”
I smiled a little to myself. “No moisturizer, love. Just been drinking water and staying out the way.” Once her full set was done—long, wispy, cat-eye just like she requested—I handed her a mirror, and she gasped so loud I almost thought she didn't like it.
“Bihhh, these is fire!” she squealed, propping herself up on her elbows and admiring herself. “I’m about to call my sneaky link right now!”
I laughed. “Tell him I want a tip for the inspiration.”
While she tapped through her phone, I walked to the counter to check my next client in—and that’s when my phone buzzed.
I held up my hand, signaling I’d be right back. Stepping behind the curtain to my back room, I answered the call and switched to FaceTime, smiling but rolling my eyes.
“Don’t you got cars to sell or something?” I asked.
Knuck was leaning back in his desk chair at the dealership, fresh cut, plain white tee, chain peeking from under his collar. That beard was gleaming to perfection.
