Page 22 of Gotta Jones For Ya
Knuck cut her a look. “Shut up.”
She laughed. “Sorryyyy. But she’s pretty as hell though, Unc. You pressed, huh?”
He ended the call, and I just stood there, heat crawling up my chest, embarrassment kicking me square in the throat. “You done?” he asked, slipping the phone back in his pocket. “Or you wanna throw another fit?”
I didn’t say a damn word. He stepped forward, grabbed my waist, and pulled me in like I was his peace and problem all at once.
“Don’t ever do no shit like that again,” he murmured against my ear. “Ain’t no bitches. I ain’t got it in me to juggle ‘em or fumble you.”
I blinked slowly, and the door creaked open behind me. “We just—we gon’ head out,” Sia said, slowly walking past us with her purse clutched. “Y’all got shit to handle.”
“Don’t play with my girl,” Mikki mumbled behind her. She gave me a once-over and mouthed ‘call me if you need me’ before they disappeared down the hall.
Now it was just him and me. I stepped back inside and left the door open. Knuck followed like a nigga who already knew he had the upper hand. “Been three days and I ain’t sleep right. I woulda been here, but I had shit to handle.”
I swallowed. “I’m sorry for… overreacting without letting you explain first.”
He moved to me, slowly. “I don’t play ‘bout you,” he whispered. “And you knew that from jump. You mine, Ny,” he said, grabbing my chin. “So next time you get confused and think I’m one of them other niggas… remember this moment.”
I didn’t speak. Shit, I couldn’t. His energy was wild. Passionate. Unhinged. But it made me feel more seen than any man ever had.
“I ain’t lettin’ you go,” he said, low and deep. “So you might as well get that through your fuckin’ head right now.”
We stared at each other. Seconds stretching. Heart pounding. “What now?” I whispered.
He licked his lips and grinned slowly. “You tell me, baby. You done bein’ stubborn?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “…I missed you,” I admitted quietly.
His whole face shifted. That look of pure satisfaction washed over him like he had just hit the jackpot. “Yeah?” he stepped closer, leaning down, nose damn near touching mine. “Say that shit again.”
“I missed you.”
“Good,” he said, grabbing me by the back of my thighs and lifting me like I was weightless. “’Cause I came to remind you exactly who the fuck I am.”
Chapter Eleven
I gripped the back of her thighs and lifted her like she was weightless—like her body was built to be cradled in my palms. That robe was already slidin’ open, and she was soft, warm, smellin’ like vanilla, red wine, and attitude. My mouth stayed on her neck as I walked us to her bedroom, one arm under her ass, the other holdin’ her close like if I let go, I’d fall through the fuckin’ floor.
Three fuckin’ days.
Three days of runnin’ back and forth between the car lot, pickups and shit and then checkin’ on Granny ’cause she had a doctor’s appointment that ran long. I got her medicine, made sure she had groceries and rubbed her feet while she talked shit about muthafuckas in the neighborhood like she always did. She was really my heart.
But through all that? Nyomi stayed in the back of my mind like a constant itch I couldn’t scratch. The way she looked the last time I left her bed. The sound of her moans echoin’ in my ear every night. The texts. The FaceTimes. That attitude. That mouth. She had me fucked up in every direction, and I wanted to be mad but I missed her. Some dick would get her mind right. But bein’ inside her? That would get me right too.
We made it to her bedroom and I set her on the bed, catching the Cuban link chain and anklet glintin’ on the nightstand. That shit made my jaw tick.
“So, you not gon’ wear my shit?” I asked, eyein’ it like it insulted me personally.
She didn’t even look guilty, just slid her silky top off, titties all perky and perfect and shit. Distractin’ me. “I thought you had another woman, Keon. Why would—?”
I looked at her like she lost her fuckin’ mind. “You wearin’ that shit got nothin’ to do wit’ how you feel and everything to do wit’ what it means,” I said, low and steady. I picked up the anklet, sat down, and grabbed her ankle gently but firmly. Slid it on without askin’. Fastened it. Then I picked up the chain and held it up in front of her. “You gon’ wear my shit,” I said, eyes locked on hers. “Not just ‘cause I gave it to you. But ’cause I ain’t comin’ up off you, Nyomi.”
Her breath caught.
“You hear me?” She nodded slowly, but I wasn’t done. “You could block me, ignore me, talk your shit, do whatever,” I said, slippin’ the chain around her neck and claspin’ it from behind, my lips right by her ear. “But at the end of the day? I gotchu.”
She melted a lil’. I felt that shit. Her legs shifted, her mouth parted. The sass dipped just a lil’ bit. “I don’t play that ‘on and off’ shit. So next time you think about takin’ this shit off again, you better think twice,” I muttered, graspin’ her throat and pullin’ her into me. Her eyes fluttered shut for half a second, and just like that, I had her.
