Passionate Game (Kimani Hotties) (10 page)

“You’re lucky that you’re thousands of miles away. I can’t strangle you.”

Becky laughed.

“Time for me to get back to work. Time for you to go check on your mother. Give your brother a hug.”

“One out of the two requests is doable. That last one you may have to pay me.”

This time it was Tamara’s turn to chuckle.

“With all seriousness, Tammy...”

Tamara knew that when her friend used her childhood nickname, they were communicating on a deeper level, like sisters. They had gone through a heck of a lot through the years.

They had been there for each other as they dealt with boyfriend breakups, breast cancer health scares and workplace drama.

Becky restarted. “Look, Tammy, staying here with my mother has made me think a lot about my mother’s health, my own mortality, the family that I really want to have. Sometimes, it’s good to slow down to really live.”

Tamara heard the message and she even agreed with Becky, but only when it came to Becky’s life. She operated under a different set of rules. Slowing down wasn’t a solution for her.

Becky continued. “I like Grant. Because I’m a spectator, I can see ahead of you. If you’d bother to open your eyes and heart, whatever you’re running from or wherever you’re trying to go wouldn’t matter. Don’t let fear overtake you.” Becky paused. “Are you listening to me?”

“Uh-huh.” Tamara didn’t want to wander down the romantic road that Becky used to navigate her own life. She wasn’t a total skeptic on love, although marriage did require a bit more effort than she was willing to provide. But the expectation that she would go after Grant for marriage was not only a bit premature, but highly unlikely given their mutual views on the matter.

“I hear the wheels turning in your head,” Becky said.

“Leave me alone, woman.”

“Please tell me that you haven’t already ditched the man and moved on to someone else. You need to give this man a chance. I can feel that he’s the right one for you.”

“What pills are you taking? I’m not trying to get attached to anyone. My left ring finger will be void of any jewelry for a long time, and I’ve taken a blood oath to that, in case you didn’t know.”

“One day you’ll wake up.”

“Doubt it, because I’m already awake and seeing the world just fine.”

If, and that was a big if, Grant and she ever got together in a serious way, he had to know from the start that she wasn’t willing to play Tammy, the happy wife and housekeeper.

“You know, sometimes Tamara doesn’t always know what’s best.”

“Why are you so stressed about me and Grant? A month ago, we were on the same page.”
About hating men,
she wanted to add.

“I met someone.”

“When? Why are you holding back on me? I should have known. Okay, ’fess up.”

“I met a guy who is in a band.”

“What the hell?” Tamara rolled her eyes. She could see the drama already starting for Round One. She didn’t know if she had the stamina for all ten rounds, especially when she’d be the one to pick up the pieces for Becky.

“His name is G-Dragon,” Becky announced with a dreamy lilt in her voice.

“Oh, no.”

“What?”

“G-Dragon! What the hell? Where did you meet Mr. Dragon?”

“Stop being a nit. That’s his stage name. He’s in a hip-hop group. I first saw him perform over the summer at the international rock festival in New Jersey.”

“That one? The group you dragged me to see in the fall?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, my God, not the Asian dude with blond hair and tats? I knew we shouldn’t have bought the VIP tickets!” Only Becky could make a backstage encounter more than a normal fan meet and greet. She should have known that the small-framed, bad boy type would have ensnared her friend.

“South Korean to be specific,” Becky corrected.

“Whatever. I—I don’t know what to say. He’s not even local, as in not a citizen of the U.S. of A.”

“Don’t you think we know that?”

“Are you using your mother’s illness as an excuse? Are you with him now?” Tamara hated to think that she’d been duped.

“Give me some credit.”

“Why should I? You kept this a secret for several months.” Tamara didn’t try to hide her disappointment.

“Sorry, but I knew you’d lecture me, so... Anyway, he’s coming back through the area in the fall. Then, we’ll see how it goes.”

“I’m
supposed
to lecture. That’s what BFFs do. I’m glad that I still have several months to pull you off that romantic cliff.”

“I’m not you, Tammy. I need someone in my life. Not to make me complete, but because I’m not afraid to open my heart and feel and respond.”

“Also to have that heart broken.”

“I don’t have the energy to walk around waiting for the world to come crashing down on me or to expect the worst from people.”

“Don’t try to make me out to be the party pooper.” Tamara smarted under the criticism. “Let me know how your mom is doing and whatever you need worked out on this side of the world.”

Her friend sighed. “Okay.”

After the call ended, Tamara sat back, trying not to nurse the feeling of abandonment. Somehow she felt as if Becky had pulled up stakes and they were no longer in their girl-independence mode together.

Tamara had to admit that she sometimes took Becky’s presence for granted. After high school, they had gone off to college together and then declared New York City their city of choice to start their careers. They’d leased an apartment that had sucked their finances dry. In the Big Apple, they’d embarked on the dating scene, casting themselves as the fresh faces of
Sex and the City,
only to come out with bumps and bruises to their egos. Finally, after an especially disastrous double date and too many cosmos to count, they’d declared that New York City had won. They’d headed back home to northern Virginia to reenergize and settle into a new groove.

During that time of self-discovery, Tamara had thought she could erase her past. But she couldn’t let go; she couldn’t move forward. The young man who had intersected her life with sad brevity still haunted her years later. Deep within her heart, regret and guilt lingered. So, outwardly she pretended everything was all right and refocused her energy on the kids at the academy.

Now her best friend might as well have run off with the circus. How could she hook up with a Korean musician named G-Dragon? The scenario was laughable. Once she was done with the documentary, Tamara had all intentions to intervene, even if Becky pitched a fit.

Unlike Becky, she could work and be around a man without falling for him. Grant may be a hottie. He may have a drop-dead gorgeous smile. He definitely could make her blush with his lovemaking skills. But she could take the witness stand that she had no deep feelings for him. Because whatever feelings stirred to life at the thought or sight of him couldn’t possibly be attributed to falling in love.

Chapter 10

T
hree weeks later, after much haggling over what would be covered in the minidocumentary on Benson Technologies, the film production had officially begun. Grant watched the film crew march in and take over his house. Tamara was nowhere in sight, which raised his anxiety level. Maybe it was a good thing for her that she was unreachable. This disruption was beyond anything she had described. So much for her Excel spreadsheet filled with false information.

A bulky lighting device hit his living room wall as two men struggled unsuccessfully to maneuver through the area. Recent rain showers had softened the dirt outside, and now the crew was tracking in mud on his wood floor. Grant swore with a ferocity that caused a lull in nearby conversations. His patience had withered down to a frail thread promising to snap at any moment.

To the workers’ credit, they apologized profusely, but Grant only raised his hand to signal that all was okay. Whenever he passed, they’d stop what they were working on to apologize. By the third round of apologies, Grant had had enough. Instead of using the path through the living room, he took a longer way around to avoid their penitence.

“Mr. Benson, if I may have a moment,” said a young woman in a crisp suit. “While the crew sets up, let’s run through the interview.”

“Sure.” He turned his attention to the young lady, who was looking efficient with a writing pad in hand.

“Tamara said we should go with a soft look. Could you change out of the black shirt and go with a pastel polo shirt?”

“But this is what I wear to work. It’s my uniform. Everyone knows that I wear black on black and black athletic shoes.” He kicked out his foot to show the proof.

“This isn’t just a run-of-the-mill story, Mr. Benson.” Her voice dropped a tone as if she was addressing a wayward child on the playground. “The wardrobe is important for the visual impact.”

“Ah, Wendy, I’ll take this from here.” Tamara walked up and interjected herself between him and the woman. “I promise to bring him back in one piece and dressed in the right clothing.”

“Is that so?” he growled, less from irritation and more from wanting her. They had had small meet-ups, a mixture of romantic dates and torrid sexual throw downs, but those were frustrating because they were both busy and it was difficult to squeeze in real quality time to see each other. Now just the sight of her made him both aroused and crabbier than before.

How could a woman walk into a room and the first thing he thought about was having sex with her?

And why not?

She took his hand, pulling him up the stairs. He loved how determined she looked, as if she were ready to take on the big bad ogre and battle over the color of his shirt. Well, she could play stylist if that was her thing. He planned on playing something a bit more primal, more hedonistic.

“Why are you being such a pain in the rear?” Tamara asked, once they were in his bedroom.

“I was simply stating a point of fact to Wendy, if she had bothered to listen.”

“You want to be ornery. I saw you have a fit when the guy hit the wall with the lights.”

Grant hit the door shut with the heel of his boot. “He almost took out a chunk of my wall.”

She looked at the closed door and then at him. A slow grin crept over her face. She shook her head, already reading the naked desire in his eyes that he hadn’t bothered to hide.

“Maybe I need to be punished.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He pulled her close against his body. “Or else...”

“You’re so baaaad.” Her mouth opened slightly over the vowel. The sight of her tongue shot electric volts straight to his arousal. “And you’re so hard.” Her hand cupped him with a slow stroke that had the power to weaken his knees.

“Damn, woman, you are dangerous for my health.”

“Sit down.” She pushed him back onto one of the armchairs in the room.

“You are so bossy.”

“Only when necessary.”

“And you count this as one of those times?” He reached for her face. He wanted to pull her closer and take claim to her mouth. But she wasn’t playing nice. Her intent stare into his eyes told him that she wasn’t going to be playing nice for the next few minutes.

She placed her foot on his thigh.

“Pull down my hose.”

He slowly slid his hand from her ankle, over her calf, past her knee and along her thigh. He found the garter clip and unfastened it without taking his eyes from her face.

Without prompting, he performed the task on the other leg. This time his fingers lingered at the top of her thigh.

Her breathing hitched and she didn’t exhale until his hands returned to their original mission and removed the hose.

“Were you planning to seduce me?” he inquired. The answer didn’t matter.

He rested one hand gently against her inner thigh. With deliberate intent in his wandering fingers, he mounted an ascent up her leg.

His body hardened, ready for the treasure hunt that his fingers sought.

There.

His fingers brushed the moist lips of her vagina. She wasn’t wearing panties. Her wicked smile let him know that she had planned this all along.

She wiggled her hips ever so slightly, greeting his fingers with her sign of welcome—her moistened clit.

He played, fingering the sensitive nub and the inner and outer folds as if she were his musical instrument, warming her up for the perfect-pitch performance.

Her slight tremor and soft moan coaxed him to the next level.

Grant quickly undid the zipper on her skirt. The sight of her triangular gift made his arousal lurch. But he wasn’t ready to give in just yet. Not before he had a chance to savor and explore her with his fingers, then his tongue and then his penis.

The fantasy sucked his breath away. The reality gave him energy. In one smooth move, he stood and flipped her onto the chair, spreading her legs wide for his enjoyment.

“What about the crew downstairs?” she asked.

“They can’t join in.” Grant’s mock outrage earned him a soft punch to the chest.

“Wendy’s waiting for you to change.”

“And it’s taking me a while. So, sue me.”

“They are getting paid by the hour.” Tamara moaned as his fingers stroked her in all the right places.

His eyebrow cocked.

“I’m sure this was exactly what was on your mind when you came through the door today. I could smell that you wanted me.”

“You’re too arrogant for your own good.” She ran her hands over his head, stroking his ears, pulling softly on the lobes.

Grant leaned forward and blew softly on her clit. Her hips shifted upward, seeking more from him. He was glad to oblige.

He repeated his cycle of blowing soft whispers of breath on her clit, teasing the sensitive folds with his fingers and probing her with his tongue until she creamed.

Every part of her was beautiful, and her natural wetness upon his finger’s entry delighted him. It was as if her body was screaming that she wanted him to make love to her.

“Still think I’m arrogant?” He only barely removed his gaze from between her legs to her face before returning his full attention to her natural treasure.

Her fingers curled along the armrest, the tips digging into the fabric. Her neck arched and her hips rocked up and back in a dance with his fingers.

“My hair will be a mess,” she hissed.

He kissed her clit.

“I’m going to be so embarrassed.” She sighed.

“Embarrassed is if I make you scream so loud that they hear you.”

She instantly stilled. Her anticipation thrilled him.

His tongue and teeth worked in tandem. First, he bathed her with long, deep strokes before he sucked her sensitive lips between his teeth.

The first time, she moaned. She practically bit her lip to keep the sound muffled.

Grant took it up a notch after her natural juice had lubricated his fingers. His exploration into the cave between her legs continued as he massaged and coaxed her body’s response. He watched her closely for the point when he hit her G-spot. He watched for when she couldn’t hold on, couldn’t hold back and had to let go.

Her body twitched, and he continued waking up its secret paths until he heard her sharp inhalation. Pressing into her with his fingers, he raised up from between her legs and covered her breast with his mouth. He sucked while stroking and adding pressure to both sensitive points. She arched back, frozen into a contorted position, a guttural groan escaping into the vast room. She stayed in suspended animation for several seconds before her body relaxed in his hands.

* * *

Tamara couldn’t believe that she’d gotten the booty call she’d craved, but now the entire house would know. Grant and his magic fingers had taken her on an out-of-body experience, and she was sure she’d lost consciousness at some point. He would not stop grinning as she slowly put on her clothes.

In the throes of her passion, she’d had no ounce of shame. With the crew working just one floor below, she didn’t know how she’d face them.

“Stop looking so freaked out. At least you managed to get me into the blue shirt.” Grant took a deep breath and plunged into the deep end. “I want you to have a key to the house. Actually, it’s a code, but...yeah.”

“Oh.” Tamara took the paper on which he’d scribbled numbers and letters. “Big step.”

“For big feet.” He winked, before planting a hot, juicy kiss on her mouth.

Tamara squeezed her eyes shut. Her craving for this man was beyond unbearable. Of course there was the addictive sexual side to their relationship that reminded her of her womanhood. But now a softer, more vulnerable place was also opening up within her. As much as she needed the physical tango of their flesh touching and orgasms firing off, she found that she also craved being in Grant’s arms, sharing their thoughts and feelings, opening up to each other for comfort. It was a romantic feeling that she hadn’t realized she wanted.

The word
romantic
had been a dirty word in her vocabulary. Yet every moment that she spent with Grant changed her. He had the power to knock down wall after wall of her defenses.

At this rate, she was screwed.

They rejoined the crew downstairs. Grant headed down first, while Tamara followed several steps behind, self-consciously smoothing her hair into place. No one seemed to notice their extended absence. Instead, Wendy approached him with an approving grin over his choice of the pastel blue shirt.

“How am I doing?” Grant asked between takes.

“Fine.” Tamara hadn’t been paying attention, but she had already seen him in action in front of the camera. Once he had the key points of the topic, his natural talent for public speaking took hold.

“This has turned out to be a lot of work. Seeing things behind the scenes gives me a new perspective on documentaries.” He surveyed the area still littered with the equipment. They had one more day of filming at his home before turning their attention to the company.

Tamara nodded.

“Stick around.” Grant moved through his living room, adjusting decorative items, straightening furniture and shifting rugs.

“Are you asking me?”

“Why should I? You can stay if you want or leave if you want.”

She walked over to her pocketbook.

“Was that the wrong answer?”

“I guess today it is.” Tamara adjusted her bag over her shoulder. She joined in with the crew, who also prepared to depart. Discovering the depth of her new feelings for Grant rattled her. Maybe the feelings were one-sided. Grant didn’t seem to care one way or the other whether she was around. Now every move he made, anything he said, she would second-guess.

By going against her desire to stay, she felt emboldened and strong. She had to prove that walking away from him wouldn’t kill her.

Oprah would be proud.

But why did she feel like crap? She exited the house and headed to her car. Her keys dropped out of her hand as she tried to unlock the door. She was determined to brave it out.

“Tamara, would you stay for dinner?”

She inserted the key into the lock.

“Please.”

She turned the key.

“I want you to come back.”

“Why?”

“Well, my mom just called from the main house and said that I couldn’t come back until you came to the house.”

Tamara stared at Grant’s reflection in the window. Was he kidding? No smile broke his countenance.

“I can’t go back in there without you,” Grant declared.

Tamara turned and rested her hips against the door.

“Meeting parents is a big deal. I don’t take that lightly.”

“Nor do I.” His gaze went deep in her soul.

“Really, from the confirmed bachelor?” Tamara mocked.

“It’s only a dinner.”

“But it’s your parents.”

Grant nodded. “It’s another milestone,” he declared. “Are you okay with that?”

Tamara paused and looked at him.

“Yeah, I think that I am.” Tamara locked the car and headed back toward the house. She took Grant’s offered hand. For the moment, the waves of tension had quieted. They’d face the next challenge together.

“We can head over to my parents’ in an hour.”

“Now I’m nervous. I hope that your mother’s not going to too much trouble.” What was his mother expecting? This sounded like a command performance.

Grant shrugged. “She’s the type who would wear a huge Easter hat on any day of the week, if the mood hits. She marches to her own beat. The family story is that she proposed to my father. What you see is what you get with her.”

“Sounds like she’s got a lot of energy.”

“To put it mildly. Stay strong...I got your back.” Grant smiled and playfully nudged her ahead of him.