Page 17 of Gotta Jones For Ya
“Sold two this mornin’ already,” he smirked. “Missed your voice. That okay wit' you, mean ass?”
My lips parted. “Maybe.”
“Mm.” He licked his bottom lip. “You tryna act like you wasn’t just thinkin’ ‘bout me.”
“I wasn’t,” I lied.
He gave me that look. The one that made my thighs tense up. “Lyin’ like hell. You wore that tight-ass jumpsuit I like today, huh?”
“Knuck…”
“What? Can’t help it. You sittin’ up in that cute lil’ lash bar all soft and pretty. Knowin’ damn well I’d fly out right now and bend your fine ass over that pink couch.”
I shook my head, blushing like a damn a schoolgirl. “I gotta go.”
“Aight, baby. Think ‘bout me slurpin’ on that clit.”
My mouth curved. I hated how fast he made my stomach flip. Hated how he’d send random I miss your smart mouth texts at 2AM. Or how he always answered on the first ring when I called. Or how he said my name like he really missed me. We weren’t together. But we weren’t nothing, either. I was caught up, and I knew it.
After we hung up, I took a second before going back out front. I didn’t need to check my phone to know what time it was—he FaceTimed me damn near the same time every afternoon like clockwork.
I finished my next client, cleaned up my station, wiped my counters down, and pulled my phone out to check the group chat.
I tossed the phone down and sighed. My girls knew me. I didn’t do the whole heart on my sleeve thing anymore. I didn’t tell folks when I started catching feelings, and I definitely didn’t give out chances easily after what I’d been through.
But Knuck?
He was patient in his own wild way. He let me rant. Let me flirt and pull away. Let me ask dumb questions like, “What do you even see in me?” and still make me feel like I was it. He never pressured me to claim him but I could feel him locking in more and more with every call, every dirty little text, every “where you at?” and “you ate today?” The man was crazy as hell… but I was really starting to like him.
That shit scared the fuck out of me.
???
By the time I got to my apartment that evening, I was dead tired. My feet were screaming, my back was tight. All I wanted was a long shower, a glass of wine, and maybe a little FaceTime sex with Knuck to finish my night off right.
I grabbed my purse and keys and paused when I walked past the mailboxes. Mine was slightly open, which was weird as hell because I never forgot to close it. Nobody really mailed shit these days anyway besides bills and bullshit. I frowned, tilting my head as I walked up closer, ready to swing if I had to, but instead, I saw a black velvet gift box with a handwritten note. Big enough to hold something serious.
I squinted, heart lurching in my chest like it got caught on something. “Boy, what the hell did you do?” I mumbled under my breath, glancing up and down the street real quick before grabbing the box and heading inside.
I kicked my Crocs off at the door and tossed my keys on the island, and dropped my purse on the chair. Then I set the box on the kitchen counter, flipping the lights on one by one. My apartment smelled like warm vanilla and lemon cleaner. Peaceful.
I opened the velvet box slowly and damn near choked. Inside was a custom nameplate chain in thick gold that said “Knuck.” The chain was chunky and hood fly. Heavy like it cost big money. And underneath it was a dainty little matching anklet with a small “K” charm.
My thighs clenched. I wanted to be mad at how possessive it was, but I wasn’t. I was wet. Like… literally. Standing by theisland, I was blushing and smirking like a damn teenager with a crush.
I picked the chain up, lips parting, the weight of it cold and perfect in my palm. Knuck was unhinged. Deranged. Delusional. And yet… he was sweet in the stran-gest way. I pulled my phone out to text him, but it started ringing first.
I rolled my eyes playfully and answered, plopping on the couch. “Hey, lady,” I said, curling my legs under me.
“Hey, baby,” she said, her voice light and full of smiles. “I was just calling to check on my favorite girl. I know I’m a day lateand a dollar short but we just got to the hotel in Aruba, and you crossed my mind.”
Of course. Aruba this week. My mama and my stepdad stayed booked and blessed. I saw them maybe twice a year. “Y’all don’t ever sit down, huh?” I teased, grinning. “Wasn’t y’all just in Barcelona?”
She laughed loudly. “We were! But Carl saw this all-inclusive special, and you know I don’t say no to a good view and free rum punch.”
“Living the life,” I said. “I love that for you.”
“How’s business? You booked up?”
