Page 21 of A Merry Invitation
Pointing a finger at her friend and nodding, Willow said, “That part.”
Talaya smiled. “Girl, just call the man. Ask him out for coffee or drinks, some place public so sex isn’t an option. Then just talk to him, see where his head is at and go from there.”
“You don’t think that’s too forward?” She wasn’t sure since she’d never asked a guy out before. Then again, there’d never been a guy she wanted to ask out. All the men she’d ever been with had approached her and luckily for them, she’d been feeling a little something for them at the time, so the date proceeded.
“More forward than him sending you an invitation to fuck for one night?” Talaya asked with a smirk. “Look, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in these past few weeks, it’s that life is too damn short. If you want something, or someone, go for it. The same way you’re full steam ahead with your career, if you like this guy, apply that same concept.”
“But is it too soon to want him like this? I mean, falling in lust is a real thing and I’m not denying I want him in bed again. But there’s something else right here,” she admitted, rubbing her fingers in the center of her chest.
“Lust is just as genuine a feeling as like or love for that matter. I don’t know why people try to pretend like it isn’t. And so, what if that’s what comes first. Do you know how much of yourself you give during sex? How open and emotional you can become. If that’s what you’ve felt the times you’ve been with him, then you’re right, there’s something there and you should definitely act on it.”
Willow liked what she was hearing. It was unexpected—because she’d clearly expected Talaya to tell her to get her life together and figure out her next career move—but it made so much sense. She had felt like each time she and Slay had sex she’d given him a little piece of her, a special piece that she’d never shared with anyone else before. And after that day at his club, when he’d held her in his arms until they’d both almost fallen asleep, she’d wondered if he’d been thinking or feeling the same way.
When she was just about to thank Talaya for her great advice it dawned on her why her friend suddenly seemed so knowledgeable in the ways of sex and love. In the four years she’d known Talaya, the woman had never talked about a man, about sex, about anything close to a relationship, but now…
“Who is he?” Willow asked.
Talaya frowned. “Who is who?”
“The man that’s got you in lust and in love. The man who whisked you away and kept you safe these past few weeks because I know it was a man who did that. You’re practically glowing with that just-fucked look so don’t try to deny it.”
When Talaya only smiled in return, Willow ordered them both another drink because she suspected the rest of their little talk was going to take a while.
CHAPTER11
Slay was at Encore on Friday night. Sitting in his favorite seat, his glass of tequila in front of him. In five minutes, she’d return to the stage for her second set and he prayed like hell the nervousness that had settled on his shoulders like a cape would soon disappear.
He’d been thinking about her nonstop since Wednesday when he’d found her at the club. Not that thinking about her was anything new because it wasn’t. It seemed that Willow James had become a permanent fixture in his mind since the first time he’d seen her. But once he’d finally been able to touch her, to talk to her, that desire that had built inside him the past two months skyrocketed to something he couldn’t or hadn’t thought he was ready to explain. Until tonight.
So, he emptied his glass and poured another just as he watched the band walk back on to the stage. When all five of the men were settled with their instruments, she came out again. She wore an emerald-green dress tonight, a silky-looking off-the-shoulder dress that clung to every curve of her body all the way down to her ankles, with a heart-stopping split up to mid-thigh that made him groan into his glass.
She always started her set with her rendition of popular R&B songs, mostly ballads, but she threw in more up-tempo melodies from time to time. Then, usually as the last song of her set on Friday nights she’d do something that didn’t sound familiar to him, something he suspected either she, or someone in her band had written. He liked those songs immensely because her vocal range was always on full display. The disappointment he’d seen in her eyes the other day when it finally hit her that Titus Tremaine was an asshole looking for more from her than he probably ever planned to give in return, had been genuine. Singing really was her dream and he wanted that for her. He wanted that and so much more.
Tonight, she started the last set withSurpriseby Chlöe and as Slay sat back, one hand resting on his thigh, the other still around his glass even though it was sitting on the table, his eyes remained glued to her. The way she’d wrapped her fingers around the microphone as she sang the first lyrics of the song reminding him of when she’d gripped his dick before swallowing him whole. His mouth went dry at the thought.
Her hips swayed slowly from one side to the other, her bare leg slipping through that split each time she stepped to the left. She looked like pure sin as the explicit lyrics slipped through those peach-painted lips. Lips he’d tasted, had sucked and nipped and that had moved over his body. Her voice poured over him, bathing him in warmth and a satisfaction he’d never been able to achieve in anything or with anyone else. When that song was over, he took a gulp from his glass and was just about to set it down again when he caught her gaze.
She’d said something to the crowd about her next song, but he’d missed it because his mind had been so focused on calming the hell down. He already had an erection he’d have to wait a few minutes to die down after she left the stage before he could get up and walk out of here with any respectability. Arousal coupled with the unfamiliar nervousness that had plagued him once he’d decided to come here tonight, were a dangerous combination. But once she looked at him, part of the storm brewing inside him had ceased. Almost as if it had known to pause for her.
She winked at him and he almost came in his pants. Instead, he gave her a slow grin and then lifted his glass to tilt in her direction as if toasting to her. He enjoyed her spirited personality just as much as her sexy body.
Three more songs, with—as he’d expected—an original ballad at the end.
“This was something I wrote a few weeks ago,” she spoke into the microphone as she introduced the song. “It’s about a secret admirer. Y’all ever had one of those?”
There were rumblings from the crowd and this time Slay sat up in his chair. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees before looking up at her again.
“I think there’s something very sexy about a man who knows what he wants but has the patience to watch and wait until the time is just right to make his move,” she continued. “So, this song is about when the time is right.”
That song was about them. Every lyric, every moan she added when appropriate, every sway of her hips, raise in her vocal range and whisper that reminded him of the sexy words she’d chanted in his ear. It was about them finally coming together as if she’d planned for that day long before his invitation. Thankfully, his earlier attempts at calming his arousal had worked, so he was able to stand without any embarrassment before she finished singing. Leaving the rest of his drink, he moved quickly toward the front of the club.
Moments later, after he’d made a stop in the manager’s office and was now standing backstage, he’d heard the applause and grinned because she’d deserved every bit of the praise. Tonight’s performances had been exceptional and she’d been, as always, amazing. So, when she stepped off the stage and paused, surprise registering on her face before a slow smile spread, he knew he was exactly where he needed to be. Doing exactly what he needed to do.
She walked to him, still smiling, looking even sexier than she had from the stage.
“So, you’re meeting me backstage now instead of sending your security to come and get me,” she said, her tone playful.
He smiled right back at her, leaning in the moment she was close enough, to place a kiss on her cheek. “You were amazing,” he said and then offered her the bouquet of dark red roses he’d left in the manager’s office when he arrived. He’d met the guy, Lonnie Edgecomb, back in September when the opportunity to buy the club had first come to his attention. It was that investment prospect that had first brought him to Encore.
