This Time for Real (14 page)

Walking over to her entertainment center, she turned on some KEM and his jazzy music filled the air. Several strategically placed candles were lit for ambience. Now all she had to do was wait.

Peyton nearly jumped out of her skin when a loud knock sounded on the door. It was time. Let the seduction begin. Through the peephole she saw that it was her man, and threw open the door just as she undid the sash on her robe.

“Wow!” Malik gasped. “Is this for me?”

“Sure is.” Peyton pulled him inside and shut the door.

Malik fell back against it and got an eyeful of Peyton's seductive figure in the sexy getup. He loved seeing her long legs and gorgeously taut thighs that would be wrapped around him before long. “Come here,” he growled.

Peyton rushed over and he claimed her lips, crushing her to him. His kiss, slow and thoughtful, sent spirals of ecstasy flowing right through Peyton. As his kisses
deepened, Peyton relaxed and sunk into his cushioning embrace, and before she knew it they were sliding down the door. Malik's hands gripped her body and brought her into full contact with his burgeoning erection. Peyton's nipples grew taut beneath the thin fabric and she ground herself against him.

“We'd better take this to the bedroom,” Malik rasped and jumped to his feet. Otherwise he'd be taking her right there, in the middle of her hallway.

Peyton nodded and took his hand as he helped her off the floor. Blood was coursing through her veins like a river and she couldn't deny the aching need. She wanted Malik inside her.

They walked to her bedroom, and once there Peyton helped relieve Malik of his clothing. He was wearing much too much. Once he was naked, they came together on top of the softness of her bed, but that was the only thing that was soft. Malik's erection was hard and jutted out, waiting for her, and Peyton couldn't wait to ride it. She blushed at the thought. She was freer and more liberated in the bedroom than she'd ever been.

She titled her head and he lowered his. Their lips met and they brushed them softly against each other. Her tongue slid across his lips and he opened his mouth allowing her entry. His hands roamed over her entire body, and everywhere he touched her, she burned. Peyton liked the feeling and she wanted more, more of Malik.

She eased down the straps of her flyaway baby doll and heard crackle from the candle's flame seconds before Malik rolled her to the side and took one of her nipples firmly in his mouth. A jolt went straight through Peyton and she entwined her fingers in his dreads, holding him to her breast. Malik knew what she wanted and sucked harder and faster, and when he was done
with one nipple he shifted to the other breast and feasted. Meanwhile he reached down and slid her bikini panties down her legs and flung them away as if they were nothing more than an inconvenience. Then he slid his finger inside the slick folds of her feminine center. Peyton was already wet and ready for him. As he slowly slid his finger in and out, Peyton's pulse quickened and she gyrated, eager for release. But it wasn't time yet. He was going to make her wait.

Then Malik proceeded to kiss and nibble every square inch of Peyton's body, starting from the nape of her neck, down to her aching breasts and her taut stomach, before finally coming to the tender flesh of her inner thighs. As he hovered over the swollen lips of her sex, Peyton's eyes were firmly shut and Malik could swear she was holding her breath when he dipped inside to taste her. He tongued her feverishly and she involuntarily jerked forward.

“Easy, love. Just enjoy it.” Malik spread her legs farther apart and flicked his tongue over that highly intimate part of her. At the same time, he sank a finger inside her and moved it slowly in and out.

“Oh, Malik!” Peyton moaned.

“Yes, baby.” Malik didn't stop, but continued gliding his finger in and out while he tongued her until she shuddered. Then he quickly sat up and tore open a shiny foil package from her nightstand drawer and protected them both in a flurry of motion.

But Peyton refused to let him take over. It was her turn. She pushed him down on the bed, straddled his lap and took him deep inside her body. So deep, she wasn't sure where he ended and she began. He filled every part of her. It sounded like a cliché, she knew, but it was true. She loved feeling the tight sinew of his muscles as she
gripped him, hearing the sounds of their lovemaking mixed with the music, and smelling the cologne on his sweaty, sculpted body. He felt so good and so right. This wasn't just an act of passion for Peyton anymore, it was an act of love.

When Malik lifted her Peyton wanted to cry out and protest, but then he lowered her back over his shaft again and again, deeper and deeper, until pressure built deep within her and an onslaught of emotions assaulted her. “Oh, yes,” she hissed. Only Malik could build the tension, slow and rhythmic at first, to a fever pitch until she exploded in a million pieces. When Peyton wiggled her bottom one more time, she heard him cry out his own release.

Afterward a glow spread through Peyton's entire body. Only Malik could make her feel that kind of passion, and as she lay on top of him and drifted off to sleep, Peyton admitted to herself that what she felt for Malik was love. In a short time she'd fallen head over heels with his kindness, with his strength and with his passion. She couldn't believe it had happened so quickly. After David, she'd thought she would never find that kind of love again. She'd closed off her heart to the idea, but somehow Malik found his way inside.

Loving Malik didn't mean that she didn't love David or that he would somehow replace him. She would always love David. He was her childhood sweetheart and first love, but Malik was her future.

Malik too, had fallen asleep, but his dreams were far from blissful. He tossed and turned. Images of Joe using an extension cord to beat him because he didn't take out the trash or because he got a C in school, or because he was just plain drunk, flashed through Malik's dreams. He could see his mother, Vanessa, cowering in the
corner, afraid to speak or move for fear he'd backhand her. Malik yelled out to her for help, but she wouldn't help him. “Mommy, help me. Mommy, help me.”

In the distance, he could hear someone calling out to him. “Malik, Malik.” But all he could do was hold up his hands to try to fend off Joe's blows. Remembering the sting as Joe hit him and the welts that formed afterwards caused Malik to finally awaken and sit straight up.

“Malik, honey.” Peyton was beside him, stroking back his dreads. “It's okay. It was just a bad dream.”

Malik turned and swept Peyton in his arms. He held her so tightly, Peyton could hardly breathe.

“Malik, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere.”

He grasped her face in his hands and stared at her for several long seconds as if he didn't recognize her. “I'm sorry.” Malik slowly released her. He'd gotten caught up in the past.

“That must have been some dream,” Peyton commented, “to cause you to break out in a cold sweat.” She'd never seen him like this. His back was bathed in sweat and his breathing was labored. “Let me get you a towel.” Peyton slipped out of bed and returned with a damp hand towel. She dabbed at his brow and his back. She didn't know what the dream was about, but it had clearly shaken him.

“Thank you.”

Peyton smiled. “You're welcome.” She'd do anything for him, because in a short time she'd fallen head over heels for him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Malik shook his head.

“Are you sure? Talking about it helps. And I'm here to listen.” Peyton desperately wanted Malik to feel like he could confide in her and tell her anything. When he
didn't answer, she continued. “I think you may have called out for your mother.”

“I doubt that, but I'm fine, really.” Malik patted her knee, effectively dismissing her concerns. “Plus, I don't remember it anyway.”

Peyton doubted that was true. He remembered. He just didn't want to share it with her. She didn't want to press, so she pulled him into her arms. Malik laid his head down between her breasts and Peyton held him there close to her heart for the rest of the night.

O
n Monday, Peyton was in a foul mood. When she woke up on Saturday, she'd found Malik had gone. She didn't even get a goodbye kiss. Nothing. He'd shown vulnerability and it must have scared him because he'd high-tailed it out of there as quick as he could and hadn't called her for the rest of the weekend, either.

There was more to Malik's past than he could say to her. In his nightmare, he'd called out to his mother and he'd had his arms up as if he were defending himself. Was it that bad growing up in the orphanage? Did he have to defend himself from bullies?

Peyton met Amber for lunch to ask her advice. When she arrived at the French bistro, Amber was already there. The hostess showed Peyton to the table and she leaned down to give Amber a quick hug.

“Hey, you,” Amber said. “When you called and said
we had to meet, I knew something was up. Is it Malik? Kendra? Or both?”

“Why would you automatically assume it has something to do with either of them?” Peyton asked.

“Because you've been a tad preoccupied,” Amber replied. “Have you even had time to work on publishing any articles?”

“For your information, I have two articles in the works that I'm going to submit to several educational journals.”

Amber smiled. “Good. I'm glad to hear you haven't completely abandoned your career for a man or to play do-gooder.”

“Ouch.” Peyton frowned. “Should I get up and come back in? You're not usually so sharp.”

“I'm sorry, girlfriend,” Amber apologized. “I just went on a horrible date with this cheapo last night, who wanted to split the bill fifty-fifty when
he
asked me out. Can you believe the nerve?”

“I can,” Peyton said. Which is why she was so happy that she'd found Malik. Dating was like gambling. Sometimes you win and sometimes you'd lose.

“So, why'd you want to meet?”

“It's Malik.”

“I knew it.” Amber snickered.

Peyton rolled her eyes. “He had a terrible nightmare the other night and woke up in a cold sweat.”

“Is that all?”

Peyton shook her head. “That's the problem. I think it was more than just a bad dream. He was calling out for his mother. And according to him, she died when he was young, which is why he ended up in an orphanage.”

“So, maybe he was having nightmares about losing her so early in life, or growing up in an orphanage. I can't imagine that was easy.”

“Perhaps,” Peyton responded. “Or perhaps he's keeping something from me. He was genuinely frightened and wouldn't let me go the rest of the night. But when I woke up the next morning, he was gone. Poof!” She snapped her fingers. “And he hasn't called me since.”

“Maybe he's embarrassed. You know how men are. They don't want us to see them as weak.”

“I know that's part of it, but I'm just having a nagging feeling that something's going on,” Peyton explained. “I just wish he'd let me in.”

At the concern and care in Peyton's voice, Amber stared deeply into her eyes. “You're in love with him, aren't you?”

Peyton inhaled. If she couldn't admit it to her best friend, who could she admit it to? “I am.”

“Oh, Peyton,” Amber sighed, “don't you think it's too soon?”

“It's been five years since I lost David,” Peyton replied. “No, I don't think it's too soon. Malik's a wonderful man.”

“Who, as you said yourself, is clearly tortured. I hope he's worth it.”

Peyton couldn't believe what she was hearing. “Of course he's worth it. C'mon, Amber, it's not like I haven't been in love before. I'm not a novice, I mean, sure I was when it came to sex, but that was different I'd only had one lover. I know what love is because I've had true love before.”

“And because you have, maybe you're desperate to have that feeling again,” Amber answered cynically.

Peyton shook her head. “This is more than infatuation, Amber. But listen, I understand what you're saying, okay? And I'm not rushing into this. I haven't even told Malik how I feel. For the moment, I'm keeping it to
myself until I'm sure the feelings are reciprocated.” Peyton didn't want to put her feelings on the line yet because she wasn't sure of Malik's feelings for her.

“Good idea.”

“Now can we eat, please?”

“Sure can,” Amber replied and they ordered their lunch.

 

“Theresa, what's all this?” Malik asked when he came into the office later that morning, after stopping by the Brooklyn center to check on a problem with the heating system, and found Theresa and Denise Burke in his office.

“The contractor dropped off some carpet, tile and paint samples and since they've already completed the demo on the conference room floor, I opened up your office. I hope you don't mind?” Theresa replied.

Malik shook his head as he took off his leather bomber jacket and placed it on the hook behind his door. “Of course not. Is there any coffee?” he asked, rubbing his hands together. The weather was already changing and becoming cooler. It was definitely feeling like fall.

“Sure, there's some in the kitchen.”

Malik left and returned several minutes later sipping a steaming cup.

“What do you think of this?” Denise held a paint swatch against a carpet sample.

Malik nodded. “Hmm, looks fine to me.” Malik went over to his desk and checked his voice mail. There was a message from Peyton.

Malik felt guilty for running out on her the way he did on the weekend, but he just wasn't in the mood for more questions. Seeing Joe had rustled up some demons he thought were long since buried. He hadn't been prepared for them to rise back to the surface. It didn't help that he suspected Peyton knew that there was more
than he was letting on. He couldn't tell her about the abuse he'd suffered as a child. He liked the way she looked at him as though he were a hero. Malik didn't want that to ever change.

He deleted her message without calling her back and turned on his computer to get to work. He ignored the two women as they haggled over colors. When they had compiled several options, Denise left, but Theresa stayed behind.

“Is everything all right?” she asked. Malik wasn't acting like himself. He was oddly quiet and much more reserved.

“Everything's fine,” Malik replied, typing an e-mail.

“And Peyton?” Theresa inquired.

“We're good.”

“Then your mood must have something to do with your being at odds with Andrew,” Theresa deduced. When Malik glanced up at her, Theresa knew she'd hit her mark. “You should talk to him, Malik.” Theresa came forward and sat in front of him.

“It won't change anything.”

“But it might make you feel better. I know you don't like being on the outs with him.”

Theresa was right about that. It had certainly stuck in his craw that they hadn't seen eye-to-eye on Joe. They'd rarely spoken since their disagreement. Malik would love to be able to talk to Andrew. “And you know why.”

“I do, and I can't much blame you,” Theresa said. “But don't let a difference of opinion come between the bond that you and Andrew share. Joe Johnson isn't worth it. Promise me you will fix this rift.”

“I will.” Malik crossed his heart. That's why he adored Theresa. She took no prisoners.

“All right, well my job here is done,” she said and left the room.

 

Peyton arrived to the center later that evening for her weekly Sister-to-Sister session with the young African-American and Latin women in the community. She was a little early because she was hoping to catch Malik before he left, but when she got to his office it was already locked. When did Malik Williams, workaholic that he was, actually leave on time? And was he avoiding her?

Bummed, Peyton proceeded to the lounge, but caught Theresa on her way out. She was putting on her coat and locking up her office when Peyton came forward.

“Peyton, how are you?” Theresa kissed her cheek.

“I'm good,” Peyton replied. “I was just on my way to my Sister-to-Sister meeting.”

“You're doing such a great job with those girls,” Theresa said. “Several mothers have praised your efforts.”

“Thank you, Theresa. That's so great to hear.”

Theresa glanced at Malik's door. “I take it you were looking for Malik?”

“Oh, yes. I thought I'd say hello before the meeting, but it looks like I've missed him.”

“He said he needed to leave early to take care of some personal business. It's a shame you weren't here earlier, you could have seen some of the paint and carpet samples we picked out.”

“Samples?” Peyton was crushed. She'd thought Malik wanted her help with decorating. She was sure Malik had asked for her assistance. Hadn't he said he was color-blind?

“Our contractor had some great selections for us to choose from,” Theresa gushed. “Just wait until this place is done. It's going to be a whole new center. Well, I got to go. I'll talk to you soon.”

Theresa rushed down the hall, leaving Peyton with the distinct feeling that Malik was giving her the cold shoulder.

 

After a short train ride, Malik arrived at Dante's. Dante was seating several customers when he came in. “Hey, Malik,” Dante said, smiling, “you have someone waiting for you.” Dante nodded in the direction of one of the booths where Andrew sat waiting.

“Thanks, Dante.” Malik patted him on the back and walked towards the booth and slid in.

Andrew nodded. “Neutral territory, huh?”

“I thought it was best,” Malik said. Dante's was a safe haven for him.

“Malik,” Andrew began, “I'm sorry—”

But Malik interrupted him. “I'm sorry too.” He never meant any disrespect to Andrew. He held his mentor in high regard. There was no one he respected more, except maybe Quentin and Dante.

“I'm sorry if you felt I undermined your authority,” Andrew said. “That really wasn't my intention. I know what Joe Johnson did to you and your mother, and you have every right not to want to accept money from the man. I guess sometimes I get on my moral high horse.”

“Sometimes,” Malik answered.

“So we're friends again?” Andrew extended his hand.

Malik shook his hand. “We never stopped being friends. As a matter of fact, I've needed to talk to someone.”

“Really? What about?”

“Joe. Peyton. Everything.” Malik sighed and lowered his head. He paused. He had to talk to someone. “I…I've been having those nightmares again.”

“Like when you were younger?”

Malik nodded. “Seeing Joe again has brought all
those old fears and memories bubbling to the surface. And the sad part about it is that I'd like to talk to Peyton, but I can't. She grew up in a loving home, surrounded by a family that loved her.”

“Why not tell her?” Andrew asked. “I'm sure she'd understand.”

“Because she'd see me as less of a man,” Malik answered honestly. “How can I admit to being abused? How can I admit that my stepfather used me as a punching bag and not become less in her eyes?”

“Malik, you couldn't control what happened to you. You were a child.”

“I know, I know. But this is different. Peyton is an amazing woman. She's smart and beautiful and sexy and kind. She deserves a man that can open up himself to her completely, and I'm just not sure that I can do that. I'm damaged goods.” He had so many psychological issues to deal with—much more than the average man she'd encounter.

“That's not true, Malik. You have a lot to offer,” Andrew replied, “and I think you're selling Peyton short if you don't confide in her. Tell her what happened. Didn't you just say that's she's kind and understanding?”

“She is.”

“You and I both have seen her volunteer. She gives of herself so freely to others. What makes you think you'd be any different?”

“I don't know.” Malik shrugged. Maybe deep down he thought he wasn't worthy of having a woman like Peyton Sawyer. Maybe on a deeper level, Joe Johnson's claims that Malik would never be anything, never amount to anything, never be worth anything, caused the words to sink in.

“Trust me, I'm right.” Andrew smiled. “You'll see.”

 

After her meeting was over, Peyton called Malik on his cell phone and this time he answered. “Hey, stranger,” Peyton said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Hey, baby,” Malik replied.

“Are you at home?” Peyton queried. “I was leaving the center and thought, since I was in neighborhood, I'd stop by.”

“No, I'm not, but I'll be there in about five minutes.” Malik was just exiting the subway station and walking down the block to his brownstone.