Page 155 of The Sweetest Return

“Thank you.”

Once the door closed behind her, I stared at my phone until the screen went dark.

He had called twice Sunday morning. Again Sunday night. Once while I drove to work.

One text sat beneath the calls.

Dre: Talk to me, Mani.

That nickname should not have retained that much power after all these years, but apparently my body had stopped taking requests from the rational parts of me.

Saturday night had already given me enough to avoid remembering at work.

What happened after we fell asleep was deliciously worse.

Sometime in the dark, I woke with Dre’s mouth around my nipple.

I didn’t open my eyes right away. My body knew the feeling before the rest of me caught up—warm mouth, slow pull, his tongue moving around the little ring until pleasure traveled straight through me. It was almost the same way he had woken me years ago, the morning we’d talked about on the phone, except grown Dre had new things to discover and eight years of missing me behind his mouth.

By the time I fully woke, one breast was wet from him, his hand was between my thighs, and whatever smart thing I might have said had disappeared beneath the sheet.

He took his time with me. Mouth on my breasts. Mouth between my legs. Fingers knowing when I needed more and when the tenderness from earlier meant he needed to slow down. I was already sensitive, already sore in that good way that made every touch feel brighter, and somehow that only made me want him more.

We ended up tangled together again anyway.

Dre over me. My legs around him. Both of us sweaty and breathing hard while Pittsburgh glowed faintly beyond the windows. His chain kept catching what little light made it into the room, flashing near my face whenever his body moved over mine. Once, the diamonds skimmed cool against my chest before his heat covered them again.

Of course I noticed.

Imani Bennett could be getting fucked into another dimension and still recognize exceptional stones.

Afterward, neither of us moved much. Dre stayed half over me, one forearm beside my head, his breathing still rough while mine tried to remember how to behave. The chain lay against his chest, diamonds bright even in the dark.

I reached up and touched it.

“I gotta tell you, Dre. Those diamonds are beautiful.”

That got the smile.

Slow. Pleased. A little too knowing.

He reached behind his neck and opened the clasp.

I thought he was taking it off because we were finally going back to sleep.

Instead, he sat up against the headboard and looked at me.

“Sit up.”

I did, mostly because my body was too satisfied to argue properly.

“Move your braids.”

My hand gathered them over one shoulder.

Then cold diamonds settled against my skin.

I looked down. His chain. On me.