Page 16 of Defending the Post
I stood in the elevator, hoping Erin wouldn’t question me about the new outfit. Fuck, this girl already got me searching for an explanation and being accountable. I unlocked the front door to Erin’s condo and found her staring out the window in those tight ass jeans. She turned to me and her nose crinkled as she noticed I changed.
“Why did you change clothes?” she questioned.
“Didn’t I tell you to change your jeans? How can you move in those?” I said.
She placed her hands on her hips, highlighting her curves. “You are not my man. I can wear whatever the fuck I want,” she said.
“What’s your man’s number? He needs to see what his woman is wearing out in public,” I said.
She lifted her palms in the air. “Marquise, ask me if I have a man because you want to know.”
I glared at her, arching one brow.
“I don’t have a boyfriend, Marquise, and I’m wearing these jeans,” she said.
You do have a boyfriend. Me,I thought to myself.
I ushered Erin out the door, walking behind her to get another full picture of her ass. It sat beautifully in those jeans and bounced as she walked. The elevator doors opened, and Erin moved to the right side as I followed.
“Do you have to stand this close to me?” she asked, as the elevator descended to the parking garage.
To annoy her, I left no space between us, brushing against her white V-neck shirt. The flowery scent of her perfume hit my nose as I placed my arm over her head.
She slipped her hand in her pocket, retrieving her phone, snapping a picture of us.
“I’m blackmailing your ass now,” she said.
I jolted my head backward. Erin didn’t have to blackmail me for anything. She only needed to ask until I could figure out how to read her body language. The doors of the elevator opened to a row of cars. Malcolm and I owned one side of the parking garage.
“Blackmail?”
“Yes, I’m telling the world I’m your woman and your girlfriends are going to leave you. Scared?” she asked.
I paused my steps as Erin passed, cackling. Reaching for her elbow, I tugged her to me.
“Erin, admit you want me,” I said.
She softened her eyes and slowly released her bottom lip. Erin enclosed the space between us, leaving no room for my heart to beat. The creases of my palms calmed from my sweat glands.
“Get over yourself.”
Dipping my head low, I said, “hellcat, get in.”
I captured her hand, pulling her toward the car. Erin giggled as she surrendered her hand to me. Once we reached the passenger side, I didn’t want to let it go. The softness of her hand pinned against mine fit as if it belonged. Opening the door, I forced myself to release it instead of kissing it. She rolled her eyes before sitting in the seat, strapping her seat belt. I slowed my pace to the driver’s side; emotions all over the place.
Sitting on the driver’s side, I pulled the seat belt over my shoulder. Erin sat buckled, examining the interior of my car. She was my first and only passenger princess. The women I dealt with met me downstairs or at the hotel. No dates or kissing. However, I was respectful.
“Who taught you how to drive a stick shift?” Erin asked, as she reached to touch my screen.
I captured her hand midair. “I do have a father,” I said, lowering her hands to her knee.
Erin sucked her teeth as I played the Icey song she bounced to at the game. The ride to Santa Monica took longer than usual but I didn’t mind. My passenger rested in her seat, eyes fixed on the scenery. Even when I slammed breaks to avoid an asshole, she didn’t flinch. While we sat in traffic, I put my phone on Airplane Mode to stop the text messages. The constant interruption paused the music, dampening the vibe.
We pulled into my parents’ driveway, and both cars were parked.
“Whose house is this? This is not the pier,” Erin said, as she examined her surroundings.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re with me.”
