I push her legs apart and lay on her, my head on her chest. I listen to her heart race and smile, knowing I have that effect on her. My chest expands and I feel like claiming her. So I do.
I wrap my arms around her small waist and say gruffly in caveman speak, “You woman. My woman. ”
She laughs and I listen through her chest, the vibrations tickling my cheek. Stroking my hair, she replies softly, “Yeah. I’m yours, babe. ”
The thought of her with someone else makes me irrationally angry. My gut twists and I spit out, “And I do not share. Not with any fucker. ”
Gripping the longer hair at the top of my head tight, she pulls my head up to look into my eyes and replies in complete seriousness, “Me too. So tell Tasha you’re not seeing her anymore. ”
Even though my scalp aches like a bitch, I smile, “Already did, girl. ”
Smiling back, she says softly, “Good. Would’ve been a shame for me to kick her ass. She seemed nice. ”
She loosens her grip of my hair and I lay my head back in the valley between her breasts. It’s so warm and comfortable there. I close my eyes and mumble, “It’s different with you. What is it about you, girl?”
She stills a moment before she resumes stroking my hair. She says quietly, “I don’t know, Ash. But I love you. A lot. ”
I want to return the sentiment. I really do. But I’m not there yet. Not quite. I feel strongly for her. Stronger than I’ve ever felt for anyone in my life and knowing she’s mine makes me feel like I can do anything. Overcome anything. She took away the one hold my father had on me. Now I don’t even think about him anymore. I feel lighter and happier than ever and it’s all because of her.
Warmth spreads throughout my body. I turn my face and kiss the inside of her breast. I don’t answer her, just squeeze her tight. She wraps her legs around me and we stay that way for a long while, completely comfortable in our silence.
Fuck me.
I think I’m falling in love with my girl.
***
“Yo, pretty girl, it’s time to go. Get your ass into gear. ”
What?
I shuffle out of my bedroom, careful not to touch my still wet toenails, still dressed in my jammies. My brow furrows in confusion and I ask, “What are you talking about, Ash? I don’t have to leave for…” Checking my watch, I tell him, “…another two hours. ”
He looks so good in his uniform. Those muscular arms strain his tight black tee and I want to lean against something and sigh. He wears a pair of black jeans that look as if they were made for him, encasing his strong legs. His belt buckle gleams and his black dress shoes look just polished. Shaking his head, he tells me, “Nuh uh. Called Meems, told her you were comin’ in with me tonight. ”
My eyes widen, my mouth gapes and I snap, “You think you could’ve told me, asshat?”
His face drops as he mutters, “The fuck I do now?”
Shaking my head, I exhale loudly in frustration and explain in an almost shout, “It’s a process, Ash! It takes time to get ready to go clubbing. I haven’t touched my hair or makeup yet. I don’t even know what I’m going to wear tonight!”
His face lifts again and he smiles, “The dress you wore last week was hot. Wear that. ”
I scoff in disbelief and tell him, “There are rules for dressing, babe! Number one is do not wear the same thing twice in a row. ”
His face becomes serious. He stares into oblivion and he nods slowly as if he finally understands my predicament. He stalks past me and goes into my room. I hear him shuffling around and not a minute later he comes back out with tight, long sleeved red and black checkered dress and a pair of plain black pumps.
It could be worse.
It’s actually…not bad.
He looks at me cautiously through wide eyes like he’s expecting me to lose it. I roll my eyes. “Not bad, pinhead. ”
He smiles. I’ve never seen Ghost smile like this. It’s an Asher smile. It’s beautiful. It makes me want to fuck up the person who took this smile away from him. I tell him quietly, “You did good, baby. ”
It takes me all of fifteen minutes to get ready. Seriously, a freakin’ record for me. I wear the dress and shoes Ash picked for me, and when I walked out of the bathroom, he looked me up and down wearing a stupid smile as if he is proud of his handiwork.
Halfway to the club, he says to me, “Not wearin’ your lips tonight?”