CHAPTER 24

 

 

Her car was still in the driveway. That was good. He snatched off his helmet, got off of the bike and saw the passenger side, rear door open on her Honda. While unzipping his motorcycle jacket, he glanced inside, saw clothes stacked on the backseat and shoes in a box on the front seat. That wasn’t good.

His heart sank. He rushed inside, nearly ran down the hallway and down the stairs into the basement apartment where he saw her filling another box.

“What are you doing, Sherita?” he asked evenly with feverish eyes.

She looked up at him with her pinkish eyes and puffy eyelids. “What does it look like I’m doing?” she asked with a fragmented voice. She picked up the small box and headed for the stairs when he stepped in front of her.

“Put the box down, please,” Desmond said, feeling stabs to his soul by her current state. By the sadness in her eyes and her pink nose that she’d rubbed excessively. He’d caused it. All of it. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t,” she sniffled. “I’m done talking. Excuse me.”

“Put the box down, Sherita,” he demanded.

“No. Get out of my way,” she said, pushing forward, pressing the box against his stomach. “Move!”

In a fit of rage, he grabbed the box from her grasp and tossed it to the floor, its contents spilling out. He reached for her, but she swatted his hands away.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, tears falling from her eyes yet again.

“Sherita—”

She shook her head while backing away from him. “No. I’m not going to let you do this to me anymore. I’m done, Desmond!”

He took a few steps forward. “You’re not leaving me,” he said with arrogant eyes.

Her lips trembled. “I am leaving. I can’t do this anymore.”

He reached out to touch her again, and she pushed his hands away.

“Stop, Desmond.”

“You’re not leaving me.”

“Watch me,” she said, grabbing her purse from the bed, and before she turned around, Desmond had circled his arms around her, restraining her from behind, pulling her to him.

“No,” she cried. “Let me go, Desmond.” She dropped her purse and attempted to pry his hands away from her, to free herself, but she was no match for his strength. “Let me go!”

“No. I will never let you go, Sherita.” He slowly turned her around so he could see her face. “Look at me,” he said, holding her arms.

“No,” she said, trying to wiggle out of his grasp as more tears spilled out of her eyes. She gasped when she felt the warmth of his fingers glide underneath her shirt and up her back. “Stop. I don’t want this anymore.”

“Sherita, look at me,” he said calmly, gliding his fingertips up her sides, feeling her body shiver.

“Stop,” she whimpered, feeling weak and helpless in his strong arms.

With glassy, troubled eyes, he swallowed back his emotions and said, “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me!” he erupted, palming her wet face with his hands, forcing her attention.

She connected her eyes to his and when she did, she saw his golden, glossy eyes, filled with sadness.

“I will never let you go,” he said, blinking back tears, and before she could say no to him again or push him away, he leaned forward and kissed her lips, feeling her tremble in his arms.

“Desmond,” she managed to say in one last, breathless retort, and then she felt herself being lifted from the floor as he took her up the stairs to the main floor and on to the second level – to his bedroom. He lowered her to the Egyptian cotton sheets on his bed, his body firm and heavy on top of hers.

Desmond ravenously took her lips again, kissing her. The wetness on her face had broken his heart. Ripped through his soul like a jagged knife. He planned to repair all the damaged he’d caused – not to himself, but to her. This was all about her. He traveled to her neck, kissing her softly there while feeling her cry and whimper.

“Desmond, don’t do this to me,” she begged with a distorted voice. “Don’t make me love you. I don’t want to love you anymore. Please just let me go.”

He stopped kissing her neck, connected his vision with hers, seeing even more tears escape her eyes while he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time – a single tear slide down the length of his face. The last and only time he’d cried was when he lost his parents. And now, on the verge of losing a woman he cared about, the woman he’d married, the woman he’d let inside of his heart, a tear escaped his eye.

“I can’t do that, Sherita,” he admitted, his soft voice trailing off. He gave her a long, penetrating gaze before he lowered his mouth to her face, kissing her tears away.

The sensation of his lips against her face had her gasping for air with a wide-opened mouth. And he took the invitation to kiss her again.

Tasting the saltiness of her own tears on his tongue, she gave in to him, yet again, her hands migrating to the back of his head as he deepened the kiss.

He pulled away from her and stared deep into her eyes to make a request of her, a request he’d never made of any other woman. “Make love to me, Sherita.”

Confusion, love and submission blended together in her eyes. When she slid her hands underneath his shirt, pulling it up over his head, she knew her heart was winning this battle. She maneuvered her body, sidling onto his lap, securing their connection in one, long, sweet surrender. How he’d managed to get her to wave the white flag, even when she was angry at him, was beyond her.

She tugged at his hands, gesturing to pull him up to a seated position and when he sat up, she wrapped her legs tight around his waist, feeling him descend deeper into her sensitivity.

“Des,” she whispered. She watched him look at her again. Staring into his intoxicating eyes – eyes she remembered being sad a few moments ago, she took a small kiss from his lips and said, “You’re all the man I could ever want.”

Touched by her words, he leaned forward, connecting their mouths, kissing her again, devouring her sighs like the late night snacks that they were.

Sherita wrapped her legs around him even tighter, pulling him in closer. She kissed him with the same intensity and fervor as he kissed her.

He grazed her back with the slightest touch of his fingertips before circling his arms around her, pulling her into him more, if that was even possible. He listened as her moans thickened along with the ragged breaths she was able to take. He felt her body tighten around him, all of her, until she crashed against him, waves of passion forming one after the other. Rising, then falling. Cresting.

In a quick maneuver, with their bodies still connected, he lowered her to her back, staring down at her. “Sherita, look at me, baby.” He watched her, panting softly. Still riding the wave before being swept under the current that was him. All him. “Sherita, baby, look at me.”

Sherita opened her eyes, staring directly into his as he had requested.

With his hands locked around her wrists, his body reclaiming her, he said, “I love you.”

She looked shocked for a moment as if she was unsure of what he’d said.

“I said, I love you,” he repeated as if reading her thoughts. “And yes, you should be flattered because I’ve never said those words to another woman. Only you, princess. I love you.”

“I love you too, Desmond.”

“Mmm,” he moaned as he kissed her again, satisfied she’d said it back. Her words triggered something explosive inside of him, prompting him to slam his eyes shut and sail off into paradise, taking her with him again.

He smiled, then kissed her again while holding her body hostage. And they made love once more until neither of them could hardly catch their breaths. Afterwards, she rested her head against his firm, moist chest while their bodies cooled off – while they struggled to breathe normally again.

Sherita closed her eyes, pulled in a breath full of his scent, then found his free hand, interlocking their fingers. His other hand was submerged in her hair.

“Desmond.”

“Yes, baby.”

“I have to leave tomorrow for work.”

He’d known that already, especially since she had written it in her planner. “You don’t have to.”

“I do. I have couples counting on me to capture their memories.”

“And where are you supposed to be going, Rita?”

“Myrtle Beach.”

“For the entire weekend?”

“No. I’m leaving tomorrow evening, and I won’t be back until next Friday.”

Desmond frowned. “Next Friday? You’re leaving for an entire week?”

“Why do you make it sound so bad? The time will go by quickly, and you need a break from me anyway.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. Desmond, you have work to do. Before I knew who you were, I realized you had a strong work ethic and since I’ve been here, I’ve been a constant distraction for you. So, use this week to get your work in order…finish phase two of the marketing plan you’ve been working on and Friday, I’ll be back.”

She was right. He couldn’t argue against it. She was a distraction, a good one, but still, a distraction. “Where are you staying?”

“I haven’t booked a place yet.”

He snickered. “You’re going to Myrtle Beach in July, and you haven’t booked a place yet?”

“I usually find some lil’ rinky-dink motel. I’m not worried about it.”

“I’m not worried about it either, because I have a vacation home there. That’s where you’ll stay.”

Sherita smiled. “That’s very generous of you, Desmond, but—”

“I’m not asking you to stay there, Sherita. I’m telling you. No wife of mine is staying at a motel.”

Sherita smiled against his chest, lifted her head just slightly to kiss him.

“I’ll give you the address and keys in the morning.”

“Okay, Des.”

“What time does your flight leave?”

“I’m driving.”

Desmond sat up, prompting Sherita to do the same. “That’s a five and a half hour drive.”

“It’s a drive I’ve taken many times before, Desmond.”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t want you driving.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sherita said. “I don’t want to fly. I need to take all of my equipment, and I don’t want to lug all that stuff around trying to get on and off a plane.”

“In that case, we can hop on the company jet.”

She looked at him, seeing the worry in his eyes. “I’ll be fine.” She kissed his lips, then slowly leaned against him so he was lying flat on his back again. She rested her head back onto his chest.

After releasing breath, he said, “Then you’ll take the Mercedes.”

“And what are you supposed to drive to work?”

“I’ll take your car.”

Sherita laughed. “Not with those long legs you have. Plus, my car doesn’t suit your style.”

“I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about you. So you’ll take my car, and I’ll take your car.”

“If you insist.”

“Now get some sleep so you can be ready for that long drive.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, then giggled.

“I’m serious, Sherita,” Desmond said. She hadn’t even left yet, and he was already starting to worry.

“Okay, Desmond. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, princess.”