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I let myself into Imala’s home. She’s not in the kitchen where I left her and it’s kind of dark inside the house. I turn on the porch light but don’t bother with interior lights. The light is on in her bedroom.
“Imala? I’m back,” I call out as to not spook her.
Still holding the pizza, I follow the light to her room where I find her having a dance party on her bed with her headphones on. I lean on the jamb, smiling as I watch her standing on the middle of her bed dancing as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. It’s the sober version of dance at the wedding; it reminds me of the very moment I decided I had to have her. It’s bittersweet. She’s coming into her own again and won’t need me just to fall asleep. Her soft gasp and smile once she notices me confirms my musings. She’s comfortable in her own home again.
“Hoboken, New Jersey!” she exclaims, with an excited jump that does wonderful things for her breasts in her tank top.
“What?” I’m smiling but her jiggling tits are taking up my brain power. “Stop jumping.”
She recognizes it as a command and immediately stops. Her face flushes and I know she’s aware of the reason I need her to be still. Imala clears her throat and goes back to business.
“All of the trails lead to Hoboken, New Jersey. Every dime jumps around to mislead others, but all ends up in one account. That bank doesn’t belong to us and I have no legal power in the states, but I was able to pry the name of the bank out of a very reluctant contact. Now, you have to do your big boy lawyer thing.”
I already want to kiss her, so her information makes it damn hard to deny myself, but I do.
“Are you sure?” I ask, surprised. Imala plants her hands on her hips and stares me down. “Okay. Good job, Caterpillar!” I accept the paper from her and study the name. Never heard of it, but at least I have a lead to give Oran. “I’m sure between Oran and I, we can get some answers.”
She plops down into a modified lotus position, then grabs her breasts to keep them from jiggling when she catches me looking.
“You touching them makes it worse,” I confess.
Imala drops her hands. Her nipples press forward for attention and I want to bite them.
“I’m hungry.” Her voice is too husky for my dick’s liking.
I place the box on the bed and back out to give myself time to cool down. This is different. I can’t just pounce. After a cold glass of water, I return with napkins for the pizza. Imala is watching television as she eats. We make it through the rest of the night without incident. It’s late, yet I’m too wired to sleep. I’m partially watching the television, leaving it running for background noise while Imala slumbers on my chest. She’s lying on her stomach with her nose buried in my shirt, her arm thrown across my waist, and her knee bent over my thigh. I absently rub circles on her back with my palm - a habit I picked up from my first night.
She stirs and peeks up at me.
“Wyn?” It’s amazing I know what she wants based on her tone.
“I know, Caterpillar. You can try to sleep alone tomorrow night.”
Chapter Eight
Caerwyn
It’s official. Imala and I are getting married. We’d met with her lawyer to finalize our prenup. I sent Ainslee and Jagger a spectacular baby shower gift, then sent a duplicate once Imala told me they were having twins. I avoided the baby shower because she told me she was breaking the news to her sisters, which meant Oran would have made it an unpleasant event.
A few threatening texts later, I opted to work remotely until the big lug calmed his jets. I’m not scared of Oran, but it’s not my natural disposition to fight all the time either. I’ve learned to let his mood blow over then try again later. So, here I am, trying again two weeks later.
I push open his massive black door to find him smiling. Oran is sporting the type of smile that displays all the damn teeth in his mouth. It’s such a rare occurrence, I snap a picture before it drops. My cousin is either really happy or in the middle of a psychotic break.
“Hey big fella,” I say cautiously as I enter.
Oran’s gray eyes lock onto me and the smile doesn’t drop.
Oh, shit. We’re all in trouble.
“Do I need to call a doctor?”
His smile drops. “Fuck you. Don’t think I forgot about my promise to kick your ass.”
Now, I’m the one smiling. “There he is! You had me worried.”
“What are you talking about?”
I recall the picture on my phone and zoom in on his face to show him, while pointing at the smile.
