Page 61 of Dope Boys: Most Wanted
He chuckled. “You opened the door. I merely walked through it.”
“Anyway, I thought home-cooked meals were like a group norm?” she redirected the conversation.
“Neither Cyn nor Nia can cook. Nia tries, Cyn gets nasty ass takeout and tries to pass it off. The only time I get a home-cooked meal is Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, and Easter. Or when Ms. Ophelia feels the need to whip something up. But with Aunt Lucille’s health declining, those might be few and far between, too.”
Reign looked over her shoulder. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Congestive heart failure. She raised two boys of her own and three kids who didn’t belong to her. We stressed her ass out. She was running behind us and Uncle Slim, forgetting to take care of herself, and now she’s hooked up to oxygen. I make it a point to see her at least twice a week. Her and Aunt G keep me straight.”
“Who gave her more hell?” Reign asked. “I feel like it was you.”
“Most definitely,” Markus spoke, moving from the table to the sink. He removed his sweatshirt and placed it on the back of a nearby chair before starting the water. “Hell then, hell now.”
“Oh, I can tell,” she chuckled. “You lost, get to washing.”
“I actually won, but go off,” he spoke, taking in her relaxed state. The floppy, barely secure ponytail, the oversized shirt, and the leggings she’d changed into. Reign may have been smallbecause of the things she didn’t speak on, but two things went unaffected. Her ass and her breasts, he couldn’t help but take all of her in.
“Why do you keep staring at me?”
“You keep asking me questions you know the answer to, Speechless. Because you’re beautiful and you know that shit.”
“Mm,” Reign hummed, prepping herself to dry the dishes. “You got a thing for damaged goods, don’t you?”
Markus turned the water off and turned to her. His eyes were intense, focused. His feet closing the space and his arms boxing her in against the counter. “What’d you say?”
“I asked if you had a thing for damaged goods,” she repeated, avoiding his glare. “That’s what I am, you know? Pretty on the outside, damaged on the inside.”
He hooked her chin. His reply teetered somewhere between wanting to kill whoever planted that seed in her mind and wanting to kiss that pain away. He chose the latter. His lips pressed against hers in an assuring peck. And then another and another until his tongue slipped in her mouth, his hands cupping her face. Reign reached up, holding on to his forearms as if she’d float away; the embrace was packed with longing and a passion she hadn’t ever encountered. Neither had he. She brought out the goodness in him. The parts of him he was sure the streets had killed.
Markus lifted her off her feet, placing her atop the counter. Their mouths still connected, only breaking to kiss her neck, his tattooed hands slipping down further, and further until.
“Stop,” Reign breathlessly panted. “I’m broken. You don’t want me, you just think you do.”
His head butted against her softly as he groaned. He needed to calm himself before he continued. Reign was inducing arousal that he couldn’t do anything about until she was ready.“Gahdamn it. What are you doing to me? It’s like you’re pulling on the strings of my tattered fabric and undoing me.”
“I can say the same,” Reign softly spoke. Her eyes drifted to his. While this moment was intense and another layer shed, the way she peered at him made him feel like he was worth so much more. That feeling had to be returned. She needed to feel what she was coaxing inside of him.
“You got to be the most powerful thing I’ve encountered. I don’t need you to be perfect. I don’t need you to be anything other than yourself. I need you to tap into that power and know that that shit is yours. You got one of the most dangerous niggas in Majestic Heights bending to your fuckin’ will. Tap into that and stop being scared of who you are.”
“You say that like you see me.”
“I see you as much as you see me,” he punctuated his comment with another peck to her lips. “Now, let’s get these dishes done and chill before I have to step out.”
Reign pulled in a deep inhale. “One request.”
“Anything.”
“Leave after I go to sleep.”
“Got you.”
Between her shiftsat the hospital and Brantley’s shifts on the streets, they’d been like passing ships. It allowed her time to think, time to really consider whether or not this was the life she wanted. When she moved to Majestic Heights from Maverick Falls, she wasn’t expected to be wrapped up in a thing like Brantley. From patient to charmer to her wanting to fit him into a mold he wasn’t designed for.
He'd never met her family and wouldn’t until he was presentable to her father. There was no way she could deliver Brantley to her father, the head of surgery. And if Cyn didn’t do something soon, her fate would be back home in Maverick Falls, with James St. Paul. He was the nerdy version of her father to the naked eye, but an asshole in disguise.
Her love for B overruled her logic. Her love for B had her blind to the fact that she indeed loved him more. Her love for B had her pacing the floor, trying to figure out how she was going to tell B that she did the one thing he told her not to do. After all, had he never let Angel off the leash to run rabid, none of them would be in this mess.
The front door opened, and her eyes erratically bounced from the carpet to the door. B, smelling like weed, liquor, and cheap perfume, roamed into the house. Any other night, she would have been at the hospital doing what she loved to do. But after the inconsistencies of her badge swipes and Detective Russell showing up repeatedly, she had a few days to sit down and think about what was next.
