Page 4 of I Need It

I didn’t understand how this could happen to me at only twenty-five years old, but my dad said that sort of thing was inherited genetically from my mama’s side of the family. Most of the women had female issues, from fibroids to infertility issues. All the older women had already had hysterectomies. Now I knew what I had to look forward to.

Had I told Christian all that, though, he would have been gone, thinking I had a man. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I’d gotten caught up with good dick. That nigga caught me slipping, and I allowed him to fuck me without a condom, promising he would pull out. We see how that shit played out. When I told Janson I was pregnant, the nigga went the other direction and refused to answer my calls afterward.

Unfortunately, this occurrence didn’t make me want a relationship with anybody. I just had to be more cautious. Niggas ain’t shit. That had been my mantra for the past few years. My daddy tried to warn me about that when I was younger, but all I could see was just how great he was. Clearly, there had to be some good men out there. Well, I hadn’t met one. The first man I fell in love with destroyed me emotionally when he cheated and openly rejected me afterward.

To add insult to injury, it was with a bitch I once considered my friend. She got pregnant, and now they were a whole ass family. The next man I fell in love with after that cheated as well. I didn’t wait to get to three strikes before swearing off relationships all together. I typically fucked around like niggas did… used them before they could use me.

While I was recovering from losing a baby, I was happy that I lost it. I wasn’t ready for a baby. I didn’t think I would ever be ready for one. They may as well had taken all my shit out. I knew with time, I could change my mind, but God would have to send an angel to change my mind. Like a real-life angel where I could see the damn wings.

Christian looked like a fucking player if I ever saw one… a tall, fine ass one. I wouldn’t mind climbing that damn tree though. His high yella complexion sent me over the moon. He was just my damn type. He didn’t look like he’d smoked a day in his life. Those lips were too pink to say he had. His beard was thick and well-manicured like he had a barber on standby. His hair looked soft as hell. It had waves for days.

He wasn’t a lanky dude either. He had some thickness to him, and I liked that. I had gained some weight during my heaux phase, but niggas seemed to like that shit. I could tell he was trying to see just how thick I was, because he was watching me too hard. His low, dark eyes had dipped a couple of times. The man was physically perfect in my book, so maybe he was that angel. “Body Party” by Ciara was on repeat in my head the entire time I was in his presence.

His hands were soft and inviting, and it made me wonder what he did for a living. He probably had an office job or something. While he was dressed down in jeans and a hoodie, he seemed like the type to take pride in how he looked. It wouldn’t surprise me if he got facials and shit. His skin was way too clear and smooth to say he didn’t. Either that or he had perfect genes.

If all the people in the waiting area were related to him, I could clearly see that. I didn’t see an ugly one in the bunch. Even the older men looked good, especially the thick one with freckles. His lips weren’t as pink though. He was clearly a bud smoker. I recognized that shit anywhere. I used to smoke heavily while I was in college. Trying to get over heartbreak proved to be a lot for me. I smoked to zone out until I could heal from that shit.

Sometimes, I truly believed I never healed. I just got over it and moved on. That was probably why I didn’t want a relationship. I put all men in a fucked-up box and didn’t care to see any of them any differently. I stared at my phone, wishing I had someone to love me other than my dad. Clearing my throat, I quickly sucked up those feelings and set my phone on the bed table. It was five in the morning, and I still hadn’t fallen asleep.

I should have requested something for pain so I could go to sleep. I didn’t like taking medicine if I didn’t have a real need for it though. Getting addicted to painkillers was one of my biggest fears. My mama had gone through that phase long before the pain got overwhelming for her. She had uterine cancer but didn’t find out about it until it was too late. I made sure I went to the doctor regularly to be able to catch anything before it got out of hand. I didn’t ignore the “smallest” issues, because I knew it could be more.

When my phone chimed, I frowned slightly. I figured it was my dad, probably letting me know he was leaving Mesquite to head my way. We moved to Mesquite, a city thirty minutes east of Dallas, after my mama died just to escape. We were originally from Houston. However, Mesquite was about four and a half hours away from Beaumont, which was where I was when my stomach started cramping so bad.

I lived in Houston, but I let an acquaintance of mine convince me to go to Beaumont for a trail ride. We turned the fuck up, and the next day, I could barely function. She had to get a ride home after my procedure, so she could get to work, and had parked my car in the parking garage. Somehow, my dad and I would get it to Houston. I picked up the phone to see the message was from an unsaved number. Who would be texting me at five in the damn morning?

When I opened it, my eyebrows lifted in surprise. I know it’s early, and I apologize. You need your rest, but I haven’t been able to get any since leaving your presence. You got my mind racing, girl. Text me when you wake up. ~Christian

I looked like hell warmed over, and this nigga was messaging me like he saw me fresh off the runway. I didn’t have time for bullshit ass niggas. He had a slight twang too, like he was country for real, but he had diamond studs in his ears. It was like when I read his message, I could hear his deep voice saying that shit.

I do need my rest, but I haven’t been able to sleep just yet either. My body probably had too much rest though. Why is your mind racing?

He definitely had me intrigued. I would have time to get to know him for sure. All activities were a no-go for two weeks at least. Thankfully, I worked for myself as a romance author. The only schedule I had to adhere to was my own, and that was extremely flexible. My phone chimed again. Can I call you then?

Yeah.

I cleared my throat, knowing my voice probably sounded like I had a frog in my throat. It rang immediately after I sent the response. “Hello?”

“Hey, beautiful.”

I slightly rolled my eyes. “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to be disturbing you like this. You in the damn hospital. Don’t regret giving me your number though.”

“I don’t regret it yet.”

He chuckled, and that shit was sexy as hell. “Before we go any further, can I ask how old you are?”

“Twenty-five. You?”

“Thirty-four.”

He got quiet for a minute then asked, “What do you do?”

“I’m a romance author. What about you?”

“For real? You like write real life books and shit for a living?”

I giggled. “Yeah. Why does that surprise you?”

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