Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 82060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
The thing was, I doted on my kid too, and I wouldn’t mind heading out to see a concert or movie once in a while, but I loved spending time with my son. Even when I was saving him from electrocuting himself.
I parked at my apartment complex, grabbed my purse, got out, secured the car, then let myself into my apartment, glancing back before I closed the door and seeing Eddie finally driving away.
As usual, I flipped the light on in the entryway, and again squeaked when I saw the man standing in my living room.
I put one hand on my heart, walked into the room and threw my bag on the couch.
Only then did I order, “Stop breaking in.”
“You haven’t moved,” he stated bizarrely.
“What?”
“His room is tiny. This isn’t a good neighborhood. And you haven’t moved.”
I didn’t know what to say. My mind was darting from one thing to the other, including but definitely not limited to the facts he was here again, he’d broken in again, but he’d also obviously had a look around, something that was totally invasive, or, more invasive than him just breaking in, and he was saying words I didn’t understand.
“You got the money…move,” he pressed.
“You’re giving me that money?”
“I’m not giving you that money,” he lied, since he knew about it, and exactly three people knew about it: me, Toni and the person giving it to me.
Why would he lie?
“Darius—”
“There’s a complex close to Colorado Boulevard. Cleaner. Bigger cribs. Green space. A playground. A pool. A security gate. There’s a waiting list. I know a guy. You’re bumped to the top and they got a two-bedroom townhouse open. He’ll call you with the details.”
“Darius—” I tried again.
“Know another guy, he’s got a moving company. He’ll see to that shit.”
“I still have six months on this lease.”
“I’ll make a call.”
He’d make a call and now he was making a move…to leave.
He went to pass by me, but I caught his biceps and snapped, “Darius!”
He stopped, looked down at my hand, then to my face, and his preference that I take my hand from him was perfectly clear without a word escaping his lips.
I didn’t take my hand from him.
“We have things to talk about,” I told him.
“Yeah, you gettin’ out of this pit and putting my son in a decent pad. We talked about that. I’m gone.”
I held on tighter. “I have other things to say.”
“See I gotta make myself clear I don’t wanna hear them, so this is me makin’ it clear. I don’t wanna hear them.”
I pulled at his arm at the same time I moved in front of him to block his path. “Well, I want to say them.”
“Malia, no.”
“I can’t afford a bigger place.”
“Not gonna be your problem, since the rent’s gonna be paid by me.”
My eyes got big.
Then I got mad.
“So, what? Is this guilt?” I asked. “Because I don’t need your guilt, Darius Tucker.”
“It’s not guilt.”
“Then what is it?”
“Move outta my way, woman.”
“Tell me. What is it?” I demanded.
“Outta my way,” he clipped.
I didn’t get out of his way.
I got up on my toes and got in his face.
“Tell me!” I snapped. “If it’s not guilt, what is it?”
“You wanna know what it is?” he whispered, the tone sinister.
I shivered at the tone, but still found it in me to nod my head. “Yeah. I wanna know.”
He was still whispering when he replied, “This is what it is.”
And then his arms were around me and his mouth was on mine.
For a second, I was stunned. I hadn’t been touched by a man since…well, him.
And then his tongue touched my lips, I opened them, and it swept inside, and it wasn’t like I’d used up ten years of hormones making my kid.
It was like I was fifteen again and the cutest boy at school was kissing me.
But I wasn’t fifteen, and Darius wasn’t sixteen.
This was different.
This was better.
Much better.
He had one arm so tight around my back, it was like he wanted my body to fuse with his.
His other hand was at the base of my neck, fingers up in my hair, holding me steady for the onslaught of his kiss, when there was no way I was going to do anything but go for the gusto and kiss him back.
Something I did.
When his hand strayed down to my behind, how much better this kiss was hit me, and how it could get so much better hit me too.
Fury washed through me. Fury and jealousy and misery, a lethal mix of poison permeating my every cell, and I tore from his arms.
He was breathing heavily, and I was breathing heavily, and we were staring at each other.
His stare was wary.
Mine was enraged.
“Seems you got plenty of opportunity to get really good at that,” I jibed. “Guess you weren’t pining for me, hunh?”