Queen Move

I laugh and trail my lips over to his ear.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

The loud rapping on the passenger-side window startles us apart. Keith stands beside the car, arms folded, smirking. He gestures for me to roll the window down. With a frustrated sigh, I do.

“Hey, Tru,” he drawls. “It’s kind of tacky doing this shit in broad daylight in front of Mama’s house.”

“What do you want?” I growl at him, my eyes narrowed to slits.

“What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t intervene when I saw my sister doing something wrong?”

“Wrong?” I shake my head. “Have you been drinking? I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He leans forward just enough to catch Ezra’s stony eyes. “I thought I saw you at Daddy’s funeral with a wife and a kid, Stern. And from what I’m hearing, you’re a rising star in the community.”

“Ezra, goodbye,” I say, reaching for the door handle.

“Kimba,” Ezra says, frowning. “I can—”

“He’s just pushing my buttons. I’m gonna go, Ez,” I tell him softly. “We’ll talk later.”

He stares at Keith through the window, his eyes hard and cold as glass.

“Keith, go,” I say, not turning to make sure he complied but reaching past Ezra to roll up the window.

“We weren’t doing anything wrong,” Ezra says immediately, cupping my face again. “You know that.”

“Yeah, but no one else does.” I shake my head and sigh. “Until this is all sorted and in the open, we can’t be seen together like this. Anyone who knows you will assume you’re cheating on Aiko. I don’t want to tarnish your reputation that way, or for it to get back to Noah somehow.”

He nods, but a heavy frown mars the smooth line of his brow. “Yeah, I know. You’re right, but I’m not giving you up for the little time we have before you go back on the trail.”

“If I’m going on the trail. Ruiz may not even hire me. He has someone else he’s considering.”

“Then he’s a fool.”

“You might be the slightest bit biased, Dr. Stern.”

“If you mean infatuated,” he says, laying a quick kiss on my lips, “enthralled, blinded by your beauty, then yes.”

“Beauty, huh?” I flip down his visor mirror.

My hair is a snarly nest of curls, pressed straight in some spots. I splashed my face, but the color of the lipstick Ezra smeared from my lips is still faintly visible around my mouth.

“Oh, yeah,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my words. “My beauty is blinding.”

He takes my face between his hands, his eyes sober. “I could look at this face forever.”

Forever.

At six years old, it was nothing to slip a ring, still cold from the fridge, onto my finger and say the words that would bind me to that boy all my days. The simplicity of it contrasts starkly with the twisting road that lies ahead of us as adults.

“I better go.”

With one finger, he tips my face back around and then kisses me. He tastes like French toast and possibilities, and I’m ravenous. In seconds, my hand is back on his dick and his fingers are under my skirt, begging entrance at the edge of my panties. He slips one finger under, inside.

“Fuck,” he breathes against my mouth. “How are you this wet already?”

Vaginal dryness, my ass.