Page 35 of Chemistry: The Chemist

“Get some rest.” She sighed, deepening our connection.

Choc, I’m trying. The final thought stuck with me as I began to drift.

NOTE: If you are part of the woman-hater’s club, please refrain from moving forward. The Grey List is female-centered. The disdain, hate, or slander of women protecting their peace, sanity, careers, hearts, and feelings is not welcome here.

NOTE.

Between the covers of this book is my art piece —beautifully paired words structured for my creative satisfaction and later consumed by others for enjoyment.

It’s leisure for you, it’s life for me.

This is just a book to most. It’s art for me.

My art. I’ve had my time. Have yours.

happy reading

ONE

Six nights ago…

Maybe he’s an assassin. Or a Mobster. Or a drug dealer. Or a drug lord.

Definitely a drug lord.

Almost a full twenty-four hours later, I was still tangled in Mister’s sheets.

I need a name.

I had two hours before my shift was to begin at Roulette. Missing it to lie with the unknown was tempting, but I had a job at stake.

My anxious thoughts didn’t muddle the moment. I remained lost in the beauty of the complex creature that had carved a piece of me and stuffed himself inside.

But, do I? My inquisitive nature was hard to defy.

However, somehow, he felt worthy. Knowing nothing was much like knowing enough, for once.

Living in the moment was a tough task for me. This moment, somehow, required it. Obliging, I cleared my head and made space for my heart.

I threw caution to the wind, deciding I’d allow it to lead me. I hadn’t engaged in anything as fulfilling as the night I’d had. Ever.

The fantasies I’d once kept buried inside were brought to life. That had to mean something about this moment, about this man.

I lifted a hand before lowering it on his deep brown, utterly obsessive skin. Every feature had been carefully, and strategically placed. God had broken every rule preparing him, making him extra special for someone special.

For me.

The strength of a man was almost always underestimated. But, the fingers coiled around my hand tightly, surely stopping the blood flow of my fingers, reminded me it was not to be misconstrued.

“Sorry,” I winced, regretting not keeping my hands to myself.

His eyes popped open at once. Incoherent, he observed his surroundings, seemingly confused about everything and nothing, simultaneously.

“Eden?” He looked at me, loosening his grip.

I nodded, confirming my presence. Silence trailed as he sighed and released me. I watched as he came to, swiping a hand across his face.

So troubled.

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