Loves Redemption (14 page)

“I hated my hair because of her,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Mark looked

away from her hair when he heard the anguish in her tone.

“Do you know what it’s like to be raised by someone who hates you, calls you hateful

names no child should be called, and makes you feel worthless and ashamed?” She tore her gaze away from her plate and finally looked at him.

The anguish of her past was reflected in her eyes. The soft flaring of her nose and

clenched teeth gave testimony to how deeply Melissa’s abuse had affected her as a child. And the long lasting affects it obviously had on her as a grown woman.

“When a child is told they’re ugly, a burden, or stupid enough times, they start to believe it. Even if they’re lies. Just like if you tell them they’re wonderful and capable, despite what’s going on in their life, they’ll believe it as well. It’s like food. Give a child healthy food, and they grow up strong and confident, full. Feed them junk, and they’re still hungry, looking around trying to find something to satisfy their tummy. Something to fill the void.”

“Is that what you did? Tried to ‘fill’ the void?” he asked, more pieces of the puzzle of

Maya falling into place for him.

“I did. I still do.” She made no other answer, and after eating for a few minutes she asked,

“What about you. Do you cook?”

It took him a moment to adjust to the change of topic as Maya brought the conversation

back to his earlier question. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or disappointed.

“I learned out of necessity too. A little later than you had to,” he said around a forkful of food. He decided to return to lighter topics, knowing there would be a time when it would come up again.

“Growing up, neither my brothers nor I had to do any of the cooking. My mother didn’t

cook too much either. Our housekeeper, Maria, did the cooking and baking.” As he spoke, he

could feel his smile split his face as her remembered the smell of her baking.

“She made the best deserts I’ve ever tasted. She would make these cookies she’d call

junk cookies, and they must have had everything under the sun in them--all kinds of nuts, candy, chocolate chips. The real kind of chocolate chips, not those fake rubbery kinds,” he said with the conviction of a man who knew his cookie ingredients
.

“So if you didn’t have to cook growing up, when did you learn?”

“When I left home for college. I spent a couple of years in the dorms, and then moved out

into my own apartment. My parents lived too far away for me to go home every day to eat. I got tired of PB and J. So I guess I did what you did and experimented and eventually it was

palatable. Now I kind of like to cook,” he told her with a smile, adding, “something else we have in common.”

Although he made light of his ability and why he’d learned, Mark felt ashamed. He’d

never looked at his life of privilege as anything but convenient. Working as a cop, he’d seen poverty at its worst, and it had altered his perception of humanity in ways it never would have if he’d joined his father’s law firm. Being a part of Maya’s life made the issue of poverty and race personal for him.

After they’d finished their meal, she started clearing the table before he put out a hand to stop her. “I can do that for you. It’s the least I can do. The food was delicious, Maya,” he complimented her.

“Thanks, but it’ll only take a minute. I’ll put the dishes in the dishwasher. If you’d like to, you could use my shower,” she subtly reminded him of state of dress.

With a laugh, he gave her a short fiery kiss and went in search of the shower. In the short time of their acquaintance he had kissed her more than she’d ever been kissed in her life.

Turning her attention back to her work, she put the dishes away and wiped down the

counter and breakfast table. Maya thought back to his questions on how she was treated my

Melissa. As they’d grown closer, she’d opened up with him more than she had with anyone.

She’d shared her feelings on many topics. The one they’d never discussed was race or racism.

With everything else going on, from Allison’s murder, running the house, and learning

about Mark, she’d never bought the topic up. When he asked her about race, she’d been shocked, and not prepared to talk about it. She found herself doing what she normally did when things came up she didn’t want to discuss. Run away.

She inhaled deeply, and breathed out on a long sigh. She was tired of running.

She decided it was a good time to change the sheets as Mark took his shower and left the

kitchen to return to the bedroom. As she was pulling the quilt back on the bed, she heard the bathroom door open, and there he stood glorious, naked, and holding one of her bath towels in his large hand.

“Oh Lord, I’m sorry, I thought you were already in the shower.” She knew she was

stammering and felt ridiculous after the night they shared.

Mark followed and reached behind her when her back touched the doorframe. He closed

the door, trapping her between it and his large hard body.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. I went into your cabinet to borrow one of your razors so I could

shave. Don’t be embarrassed, Maya. You’ve seen my body. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact why don’t you come in the shower with me? It definitely looks big enough for two in there.”

As he leaned into her, she felt his hot breath scorch a path down the side of her neck, and his tongue snake out to deliver a wet lick behind her ear.

Turning her neck to the side, giving him better access, she put her hands out in front of

her and came into contact with his hard, bared chest. Before she knew it, her hands had traveled up his rock-hard abs and twined around his neck.

She felt the ties of her robe give way as he slid the garment from her shoulders. Beneath

the robe she wore skimpy satin tap pants and a matching camisole, and he stopped in his sensual ministrations to look her over from head to toe.

* * * *

The silky shorts outlined her small rounded hips, the white lace hem ended at the top of

her thighs. The matching top strained against her full breasts, outlining and pushing the large globes together, the golden tops spilling over the neckline. Maya was so sexy he was afraid he’d come from just looking at her.

“Mark....” she groaned, turning from his gaze, searching for the ties to her robe.

When she moved to turn away, he apologized. “I’m sorry baby. I wanted to get a better

look at you. I know I must sound like a broken record, but you’re beautiful. I like to look at you.

Feel free to return the favor,” he told her with a low laugh.

He ached for her to feel comfortable enough to look and enjoy his body, as he did hers.

With a helpless groan he brought his head to hers and initiated a kiss that had them both gasping for air.

He remembered the running shower and peeled her sexy underclothes off, picked her up

and walked into the steamy bathroom. After he pulled back the shower curtain, Mark lifted her with him into the tub.

“Let me clean you, baby,” he said, and placed her small body in front of his.

As he began to wash her, he planted kisses everywhere his hand came into contact with.

Mark gently moved her hair aside, and beginning at her neck, soaped down the length of her

spine. Her groan of delight let him know how much she was enjoying his water play.

Once he’d washed every area of her body, he placed the soap in her hands. He turned her

around to face him and encouraged her to return the favor. Maya had a sultry, tantalizing look in her eyes as he used his hand as a guide over hers. His heart raced.

He allowed her to steer their linked hands over his heaving chest. The sensual torture in

Maya’s eyes showed him the effects their play was having on her. Their shallow breaths

mimicked each other.

When he couldn’t take her small caressing hands moving over his body a minute longer,

he turned her away from him and lifted her hands to place them on the shower wall. He leaned down and took her hips in his hands. He gathered her close and impaled her from the back.

Slowly, he ground into her, manipulating her against his hard cock, as the water streamed on their overheated bodies.

“Oh God, Mark. Oh God please, baby, please, please....” she begged incoherently, as her

warm, wet sheath eagerly accepted his thick invasion.

He set a smooth rhythm as he glided his body in and out of hers. The hot length of his

cock going in and out of her was nearly unbearable. The pleasure was so intense as he gripped her hips tighter, thrusting harder and harder, so that he felt crazed with the pleasure.

“That feels so good,” she keened, her head lowered to her chest as she continued to

accept his tight thrusts from behind.

Between the tight feel of her sweet pussy and the way she was grinding herself against

his cock, the pleasure rose quick, and he didn’t know how long he could hold back coming. He reached between her legs, and using his hand, he played with her small clit.

Maya screamed as her orgasm broke, her body jerking in spasms as her release took over.

Replete, her body slumped. With her head dangling and her chin resting on her chest, she inhaled deeply, her body shaky and trembling. Once he was assured she’d been pleasured, Mark

reluctantly pulled out at the last minute to complete the mind-blowing orgasm he’d been holding back.

The hot water of the shower steamed up the bathroom, pounding down on them, washing

away all evidence of his sperm from her smooth brown back, and allowed him to calm his racing heart as he fought to regain his breath.

“That was incredible. Thank you, Maya.” He couldn’t find any other words to say after

what they shared. Maya nodded her head in response, her body still heaving from the aftershocks of their experience.

He opened the shower door and grabbed the thick white towel hanging on the hook and

wrapped it around her before he swiped his body with the matching towel.

When they were reasonably dry he lifted her from the shower to lay with her on the bed,

complete after their heart-pounding lovemaking. He gathered her close and listened to their combined heartbeats before he spoke.

* * * *

“Yesterday at dinner I asked why you went into psychology. How did it lead you to

Imani House?”

After their heated lovemaking in the shower, it took Maya a moment before she could

speak coherently. She cuddled closer to his large frame as she considered his questions. She’d been asked the same question many times by some of her intern students. She’d always given a stock answer that she’d always been interested in the workings of the human psyche. This time, for Mark, she stopped and thought about her reasons before answering.

“I started working at Imani House when it was best labeled a halfway house. It was the

type of place women could come to when they had nowhere else to go. It was a very eclectic

group of women who’d all come in search of a safe place,” she said. As she spoke, his hands kneaded her scalp in a soothing massage.

“I came to the center as I was working on my dissertation. It seemed like a good place to

finish my hours to complete my practicum. At the time, the programs the shelter used weren’t working. They used limited sources and specific techniques for a wide range of problems. The result was no one received the help they needed to give any long-term change.”

“That makes sense. How long had they’d been operating like that? Didn’t they have any

government funding?”

“If the current political environment is more liberal then typically there’s more money

available for social services programs. If it’s a conservative atmosphere, then pickings are slim, and you learn pretty quick how to be resourceful for your program.”

“Not enough government support of their programs was Imani House’s problem?”

“That, and they tried to help too broad a range of problems. They should have offered

fewer programs and run a smaller but more effective center.”

“How did you come to take over and transform it into what it now is?”

“I’d finished my dissertation when I found out the center was closing. Around the same

time, I’d inherited a large amount of money and property from my grandmother. When I found

out the center was closing, I knew what I wanted to do with the money,” she said.

As Maya shared her memories with him as they lay together, Mark knew she was sharing

an even deeper part of herself than she had when they’d made love. He tightened his arms around her; thankful she was opening up to him, giving him access into her world.

“What can I do for you, Detective?” the clerk asked as Jordan walked into the evidence

room and approached his desk.

The tag around his neck showed the name James Smith. Jordan nodded his head. “I need

to take a look at a piece of evidence bagged for Guy Kross.”

“No problem, Detective. Give me a minute and I’ll get it for you.” He retreated to a back

room in search of the request.

As he waited for the clerk to return, Jordan took a look around the small room. It was

clean and organized. The clerk’s workspace didn’t have a thing out of place. The only things on his desk were organizational trays, clips and cups and traditional office equipment. Jordan wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a man’s desk so neat. He laughed out loud at his stereotypical thoughts.

“Here you are, Detective. I’ve also brought you a pair of gloves so you can handle the

evidence.” The clerk placed the plastic bag of evidence on the counter and handed the gloves to him with a small pair of tongs.

As the clerk bent over, the chain holding his nametag tangled with the thin gold of a

chain he wore beneath his shirt. When Jordan reached to help, he adroitly moved aside and