SEVERAL DAYS PASSED and Ben hadn’t heard from Kimani. He knew she wasn’t the sort to play games, the kind that Eumie would, the I’m-going-to-wait-until-he-calls-me-first-so-it-feels-like-I’m-hard-to-get moves that made dating feel like a game of chess.
Fuck chess.
“Women play those types of games because they work,” May had explained to him once. “Not all the time. But enough times that they’ve lasted the centuries. Besides, men play similar games in the realm of business and politics.”
But Ben usually just took what he wanted, and he didn’t like to do business with people who played coy. With Kimani, he sure as hell knew what he wanted—her, pinned beneath him a million different ways.
He hadn’t reached out to her, however, because it seemed, based on her haste to leave that night at The Lair, that she needed some space. Probably to convince herself that being his fucktoy was far from wise. But if that was her conclusion, he wasn’t worried. He’d have her wet and whimpering again.
From Bill, Ben found out that Kimani was headed to the campaign headquarters. After having had to clean out her desk earlier in the week, Ben suspected she would need a little cheering up, and he hoped the pair of football tickets might do it.
“I’ll take those precincts,” she was saying to Anthony, pointing to the folders for the area of Lockwood Gardens.
Anthony, spotting Ben standing behind her, hesitated and responded, “I have some other precincts that could use a second pass.”
“Has Lockwood Gardens even had a first pass?”
“No, but it wouldn’t be wise to walk these precincts alone, and I don’t know that we have a volunteer who can go with you right now.”
“I’ll find a friend.”
Anthony furrowed his brow. “I don’t know...”
Irritated that Anthony wasn’t able to put down his foot harder, Ben stepped in. “You have a death wish?” he asked Kimani.
Not realizing he had been behind her, she jumped back in surprise. She was casually dressed in a zip-up hoodie and shorts. She looked so hot, he wanted to rip the clothes off and take her right there.
“Excuse me?” she returned.
“I said you’re done walking East Oakland,” he replied.
“There are other East Oakland neighborhoods, not the flats, of course—” Anthony began, till Ben gave him a cutting look.
“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll take whatever you want to give me.”
Relieved, Anthony handed her a set of folders and the doorhangers. She received them and headed out. Ben followed.
“Don’t get any ideas about using those doorhangers in Lockwood Gardens,” he said.
She flushed with guilt and pressed her lips together in an unhappy line. She turned to face him. “What do you want?”
To devastate you.
His gaze spoke the words, and she seemed to find it difficult to swallow. They could have spent a while staring at each other, but he released her from his stare to call Bataar to bring the car around.
“Are you planning to walk now?” he asked her.
“I was.”
“Then I’ll give you a lift.”
She hesitated, but there was no reason on the surface for her not to accept his offer. They got in the backseat of his Porsche. Of course, all he wanted to do was reach over and molest her, but he behaved. He knew she got self-conscious with Bataar around. Which made it all the more fun to try to get her aroused, but he decided not to torment her...for the moment.
“You can drop me off here,” she said to Bataar, indicating the intersection of two streets on the map in her folder.
Anthony had given her a precinct in the hills of East Oakland of solid working-class neighborhoods. Bataar parked in front of a row of shoebox homes built in the ’50s. Ben noticed a black Honda pull up on the cross street. Probably Bill.
Kimani hopped out, looking relieved to be out of the car. Her relief was short-lived when she saw that he had gotten out as well. Overdressed for the occasion, he removed his jacket and placed it in the backseat. He saw Kimani’s gaze sweep over his short-sleeve shirt, fitted enough to hint at the muscles beneath.