Chapter 9
After she’d unlocked the metal door to let him in, Trey placed a kiss on Choice’s temple. “I’m glad to see you.”
“Me too,” she answered, walking down a short hall to a flight of steps and beginning to climb them. Trey followed. “Although I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“What?”
“Letting you come into my hallowed space, especially now, at such a critical juncture.”
“Critical?”
“Yes. We’re preparing for the biggest show of the year, Fashion Week at Bryant Park.”
They reached the third floor and walked to the double doors at the end of the hall. Choice opened the door to the brightly lit room, and Trey thought he’d stepped into another world. Colors burst forth from everywhere: the walls, ceilings, floors, and from the rows and rows of fabrics in every texture imaginable. Mannequins around the room were in various stages of dress, tables held partially cut pieces, and a corner desk was laden with books and magazines. The room’s far wall resembled a craft store, with buttons, ribbons, thread, zippers, and various other knickknacks and accessories carefully organized in see-through bins. A sultry neo-soul tune played lightly in the background.
“Wow,” Trey finally said, after a moment of taking it all in. “You’ve really got it going on here.”
“This is where the magic happens,” Choice said, her eyes shining as she looked around the room. Sometimes she still found it hard to believe that her dream of being a fashion designer had come true.
Choice led them down a hallway, where Trey noted a storage room on one side and a bathroom on the other. The back room had been made into a break room of sorts, with a mini-fridge, microwave, and bar table for two. He set down the sack of Thai food he carried and began lifting out containers. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Choice eyed Trey from behind, taking in his broad, strong back and tight, round butt. “Starved.”
Trey stopped and turned around to catch Choice’s eye. She quickly averted them to the containers of food, but Trey had gotten the message anyway. He placed the large drinks of Thai tea on the table and enveloped Choice in his arms. “I’m hungry too,” he said, before crushing his lips against Choice’s in a ravenous kiss. She gasped, and Trey immediately took advantage of the opening. He swept his tongue into her mouth, swirling it around seductively until he had found her tongue. The dance began again, even more fervent than when it had started just a little over forty-eight hours ago, fifty-five floors above ground. Choice felt like she couldn’t think or breathe. She was drowning in passion, almost choking on a desire so strong it scared her. She’d just met this man, barely knew him, but had an aching desire to become totally his in every way. Warning bells went off in her head, but she ignored them. All she wanted was Trey, all of him. Here. Now. Forever.
Trey pressed his hardened shaft against Choice’s stomach. His hands slid from her waist and cupped her luscious booty. He wanted to be inside her, pounding away, claiming her territory as his own. He felt that once he started making love to her, it would go on forever. But when it happened, his logical mind reasoned, it wouldn’t be in her studio on the break room floor. She deserved better than that. She deserved everything that he could give her. As much as he wanted to do otherwise, Trey abruptly broke off the kiss and stepped back. “I’m sorry,” he said, breathing heavily. “I almost got carried away.”
Choice fought to catch her breath as well. “I almost wanted you to.”
Trey looked deeply into Choice’s eyes. “Baby, there’s nothing I want to do more than to make love to you, nice and slow, and for a long, long time. But . . . I don’t know. You’re different than the other women I’ve been with. It feels more special with you. So when we take this to the next level, I want to do it right.”
Choice, having regained her breath and her composure, stepped to the table and began opening the containers. “What exactly is this,” she asked, “and what next level are you talking about?”
Trey pulled two paper plates from a separate sack, along with forks and napkins. “I guess that’s what we need to talk about. “So,” he began, after taking a hearty bite of his Pad Thai chicken, “what’s up with you and Remington?”
Choice knew that the question was coming. Trey had hinted about her and Remington’s possible connection the night before. Might as well get it out of the way. “We used to date,” she answered simply.
Trey took a moment to let this news digest. The noodles had gone down easier. “For how long, and how long ago?”
“For about three months, nine months ago.” Choice took a bite of her Kung Ping shrimp, savored the taste of the chili lime garlic sauce. “It was inevitable, really. I’ve known Rem my whole life, though he’s been married throughout much of my adulthood.”
“Remington is married?”
“Past tense, he divorced about five years ago. He was married ten years and has an eight-year-old daughter.”
“Why didn’t you two hook up after his divorce?”
“He wanted to, but I was in a relationship. When that ended, I took a break from dating, needed to get me back, you know? Remington and I talked a lot during this time, as friends. Then finally, I agreed to give him and me a try. He’s a good man, and we’ll always love each other, but romantically, he’s not the man for me.”
“Does he know that?”
“He’s having a hard time believing anyone can say no to the great Remington Black.”
“What about your father?”
Choice’s face was a puzzle. “What about him?”
“How does he feel about the fact that you and Remington aren’t together?”
Choice sighed. “Sometimes it takes a while for parents to understand that their children have minds of their own and lives to live based on their own decisions. I’m constantly reminding them that I’m my own person.”
“Like your being here instead of at McKinley Black.”
“While defiance may have played a role initially, I’d like to believe that my love of clothes is the biggest reason I’m here. But maybe, somewhere deep inside, I just didn’t want the pressure of my father’s legacy on my shoulders. Thankfully, Remington’s are big enough to carry the mantle for both of our fathers.”
Trey didn’t like Choice commenting on Remington’s broad shoulders and tried switching the subject. But Choice wasn’t about to let him off so easy. “Before we talk about the ongoing heat wave, there’s something I’d like to know.”
“What’s that?”
“Why isn’t there a special lady in your life?”
“I have other priorities right now.”
“Has there ever been anyone special?”
Trey’s countenance grew serious. “Everyone has a past, Choice. I don’t like to talk about mine.”
Whoa, what’s with the attitude? Choice knew she’d hit a sensitive spot but couldn’t back off. Not just yet. They were both way past grown, had both had relationships. So what’s up with the secrecy? “Why? I’ve told you about Remington and that there was someone before him. Have you ever been married or in a serious relationship?”
“Yes, I have. But the present is all you need to worry about, and like I said, there’s no one special in my life right now.” This time when Trey switched subjects, Choice went along. They finished their dinner, and then Choice stood and began placing their empty containers in the trash. “Thanks for dinner, Trey, but I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Work? It’s eight thirty. I was hoping we could go out and catch a jam session, maybe go to Harlem.”
“That sounds great, really, but I’ve got too much to do. I’m launching a men’s line this year and . . . hey!” Choice stood back, looked at Trey with a critical eye. “Turn around,” she commanded, suddenly the designer checking out a potential model for her clothes. She ran her hands across shoulders that were even broader than Remington’s, ran her hands down his back and clenched his waist. “How tall are you?” she asked, turning Trey back around to face her and holding his arms out from his sides.
“Six-three, why?”
“Because I think you’d make a terrific Chai Guy and would make my clothes look good on the runway.”
“You want me to model?”
Choice nodded.
“No, baby girl, that’s not my thing.”
“I know. But it’s my thing. It’s super easy and you’d be great. Would you think about doing it for me?” Choice fixed her face with a pseudo-pout and batted her eyes.
“What do I get out of it?” Trey’s eyes darkened as they roamed Choice’s body.
“A suit?” Choice eked out.
Trey shook his head. “Uh-uh, I have enough clothes.”
“Umm, a day at the spa?”
Trey took two steps and was face-to-face with Choice. “No, that incentive doesn’t excite me.”
“Well, what would excite you?” Choice asked, her nana tingling in anticipation of his answer.
Trey tweaked her nipple through the soft cotton fabric of her tee, even as he placed his mouth close to her ear. “A night with you.”
Choice swallowed hard and resisted the urge to tear off her top and bury Trey’s head between her breasts. “I’ll think about it,” she whispered, relishing Trey’s tongue as it traced her earlobe before he placed nibbling kisses down the side of her face to her neck.
“You do that,” Trey replied, and then once again buried his tongue in Choice’s wet mouth while dreaming about burying it elsewhere.