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He spins to face me. “What?”
“Your smell turns me on,” I tell him, shove his keys and wallet against his chest, and push him out the door, slamming it in his face before he can say or do anything in return.
“Maxxy!” I hear him call through the door.
“You have to go to the clubhouse, Hoodoo,” I yell back at him.
“Dammit,” he growls back. “This isn’t finished, woman! You and me, we’re finishing what we started this morning later on tonight. You hear me?”he yells.
My clit throbs at the thought as I clench my thighs tighter. “Can’t wait. Now get the fuck off my front porch before my neighbors call in a disturbance.”
I hear him laughing and his footsteps fading soon after. I turn back, checking through the peephole to see him walking for his ride. Turning my back against the door, I lean against it, letting out a long exhale. Warmth floods my senses like never before.
I wrap my arms around myself, feeling the most whole and comforted I have ever felt before.
Hoodoo makes me feel wanted and cherished. He makes me feel seen and needed. Our relationship isn’t conventional—we bicker, we banter—but I love the way we talk to each other. It’s fun, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
I just have to figure out what the hell I do about ‘N.’
His letters seem to have slowed.
And I guess mine have too.
It’s not unusual. We do go through patches where our lives get busy, but this time it feels different. And the fact I haven’t told Hoodoo about ‘N’ feels like a betrayal of some kind.
Hiding them from each other is weird, but trying to explain one to the other is going to be hard. I just don’t know how Hoodoo will react.
But I think the first person I must tell is ‘N.’
Because he was in my life first.
I owe it to him.
But that can wait.
Right now, I need breakfast and to get my ass into work.
***
The day seems to be dragging.
All I want is to get this shit done, so I can see Hoodoo again.
Shit, I must have it bad.
As I sit searching through the invoices for something I need, the sound of clicking heels makes me look up. My chest squeezes tight, and anxious tension overtakes my body—no one comes to The Plantation in heels. It’s just not the place for women to wear them.
It’s not a place for women, period.
And the only woman I have seen here in heels recently is Selene.
I sit taller, swallowing hard as I stare at the door, waiting, and just as I thought, she steps up into the office, wearing a tight leopard skin print dress that clings tight to her toned body.
My insides shrivel at her appearance here again.I really need to tell the guys at the gate not to let this bitch into The Plantation.She spots me, and a bright smile flares across her face as she saunters over to my desk. I don’t make a move to stand. Seeing as it is just us girls, I know there won’t be any pleasantries about this conversation.
“Selene,” I drone out.
She dips her head, glancing around the office like she’s taking stock of absolutely everything in here. Selene walks over to the shelves on the wall and runs her finger along the edge, checking for dust, then begins tutting her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Oh, Maxxy, you disappoint me. As the lady of the establishment, you should be doing a better job of keeping this place clean,” she mocks, showing me the layer of dust on her finger.
