Page 67 of Two’s Better

The class was surprisingly packed; I’d assumed because it was apparently mostly walk-ins that it’d be emptier. Colour me surprised.

The instructor was done with the teaching part of the lesson and had now left us to our own devices. She was making her way around the room, offering advice to those who needed or wanted it, while music blasted from the speakers bracketing all four corners of the spacious, airy room.

Uzezi and I had only been taking the class semi-seriously; we were operating on the same wavelength, as we usually were, and it seemed we’d had a silent mutual agreement to have fun. And we were. We weren’t the only obvious couple by far, but it seemed we were the only ones who were newly in love.

Just referring to us that way—even in my head—made my pulse beat unsteadily, my lower belly fluttering. It didn’t seem real.

We laughed over nothing at all as Uzezi spun me passionately around the room, our eyes locked. Perhaps we had been paying more attention to the instructor than I’d thought, because I matched him move for move, neither of us stumbling over our feet the way we’d done when the class had first started.

And with every beat of my heart, I thought, I love you.

When I did trip, and he caught me, I thought, I love you.

When he tripped, and I caught him, I thought, I love you.

When he spun me around just so he had an excuse to pull me tight to his chest afterward, I thought, I love you.

When our locked gazes grew too much until we found ourselves laughing again, shy and overwhelmed at the intensity of what we were feeling, I thought, I love you, I love you, I love you.

All the fears I’d been harbouring last night seemed to have been obliterated. Or perhaps “buried” might be the better word. I was still afraid, but I’d decided I was jumping headfirst into this thing building between us anyway. And it seemed—as always—Uzezi was right there with me.

By the time the class ended, we were panting and sweating, and full of endorphins. Our hands were tangled as we walked down the pavement, a rhythmic bounce to our steps like we were still hearing the music, our bodies automatically syncing to our own silent beat. Outside the perfect bubble of the class, my fears tried to rise again, but I refused to let them.

I didn’t notice we’d gone past the bus stop until Uzezi said, “Want to walk back home?”

Fucking hell, was I going to be overwhelmed with emotion every time he literally said something? Or so much as looked at me? How did people do this shit?

“Isn’t the walk like forty minutes?” I teased.

“Exactly,” he said, his lips curved into a smirk.

And I just—couldn’t. I yanked him close, lifting onto my toes—which was hard in my platforms, but I made do—pulling him down so I could kiss him like it was the first time.

Uzezi groaned into my mouth, his hands immediately wrapping around my waist. We went from zero to a hundred in a heartbeat, kissing deeply and without shame, like the rest of the world didn’t exist. His hands stroked over my exposed back, my hips, my thighs and my ass, while I squeezed and stroked at his broad, round shoulders, both of us making small, sexy little noises into each other’s mouths.

We were forced to return to earth after a sharp wolf whistle from across the street. I buried my hot face in Uzezi’s chest, laughing breathlessly. He hugged me for a moment, echoing my shy laughter, before taking my hand once more.

Despite ourselves, the rest of the walk home remained that way, with kisses and laughter. We branched into a small takeaway shop, then resumed walking, talking about nothing and everything as we shared spicy beef kebabs and a side of cheesy chips.

By the time we made it off the main road, the tension between us had changed, heightened. Anticipation blazed like lava in the air. I’d cooled down during the walk, but I was scorching now, the point where our hands were joined like two naked wires connecting. Our grip was so tight I could almost feel our bones grinding, like we were afraid if we let go—if we so much as made any sudden movements—we’d find ourselves fucking right here on the damn street.

As we approached my street, I leaned into his side to whisper, in a hopefully sexy, sultry voice, “Know what I just realised?”

“What?” His own whisper was slightly comical, filled with amusement.

“We haven’t fucked in my room yet. And I think we need to rectify that.”

Uzezi made a small, gruff noise that had me abruptly flooding my panties. “Right,” he said, the deep burr in his voice making the situation even worse. “We should definitely rectify that.”

We practically raced to mine, neither of us speaking or kissing again, our hands clenched tight.

When we made it into my room, I prayed to God that I could keep quiet as Uzezi’s mouth slammed down on mine. I wasn’t sure if Bernice and Fiona were home, and I obviously wasn’t about to go and find out.

We kissed ferociously, only parting enough to get rid of his shirt—a pink and yellow Ankara print inversing my yellow and pink Ankara romper—before we were kissing again. I stumbled backward until we fell against my desk, Uzezi hiking my left leg up, wrapping it around his hip so he could grind against me.

I whined into his mouth, grabbing his ass, lifting my other leg to balance on my desk chair to give him more room, then pulled him in even closer, both of us shuddering as his clothed dick met with my equally clothed pussy. He grabbed my ass to help me keep my balance, then swivelled his hips filthily.

I pulled back from the kiss to whimper into his neck, humping my hips upward and into his.