Page 94 of Chemistry: The Chemist

“In other words, you’ll be awhile?”

“Not exactly, but at least another fifteen minutes. Would you like orange juice or something else from the fridge while you wait?”

“A bottle of water. I’ll get it. Just finish up in here.”

A kiss landed on my cheek as I stalked across the room toward the door. My stomach flipped four times.

This fucking girl, man. My face flushed with heat. The feeling was inexplicable.

“Soooo, he blushes,” she announced in celebration.

I didn’t respond. Her fridge was the first stop. After grabbing a bottle of water, I headed up the set of stairs that led to the loft area above the kitchen. I’d gone over the floor plan several times before ever stepping foot in her place, but seeing was believing.

The very simple, minimalist decor in the space made it look more expansive than it was. White sheets lined the guest bed. A mirror covered nearly the entire wall opposite the bed. I imagined our naked bodies tangled in the sheets and reflected in the mirror.

I took a seat in the chair near the corner that was surrounded by faux greenery. The warmth of Eden’s home made it clear no amount of rooms, expensive pieces of furniture, oversized televisions, staff members, or square feet could make a house a home. It was the people within the space. I’d spent years in my residence, and there hadn’t been a time I felt grounded the way I had when I stepped inside Eden’s space. The feeling hadn’t subsided.

I lost track of time, lost myself in my thoughts as I rested my mind and body on the upper level. Rather had noticed the progress of my mental capacity and the positive effects Eden was having on me. Though she hadn’t realized my progression was due to companionship until Roulette revealed that detail, she noticed the change. That sat well with me.

You’ll fail. You’re not equipped to love anyone. Not even yourself.

Quiet.

Grunting, I sipped from the bottle.

It won’t work. You’re the devil himself. She’s an angel.

Quiet. I shook my head, focusing on the good parts of the unruly thoughts.

She is.

But, she’s a woman. You can’t tr–

“Quiet.”

“Hm?” Eden startled me. I hadn’t heard her come up.

Deflection was my only ally. Jewels I’d purchased clung to her skin. She looked as amazing as I’d imagined she would dripped in ice. She was slowly transforming from an extraordinary woman to one who reeked of wealth and entitlement. The haughty kind. The kind I desired.

I didn’t mind a woman with expensive taste. I had the budget. The only niggas who didn’t were those who couldn’t satisfy the bill. I preferred my women established, entitled, expensive, and egotistical. Nose in the air and hand out every chance she got. Because, anything she wanted from me, she could have.

Additionally, it led me to believe most niggas didn’t have the financial range to fuck with her or fuck on her. Though Eden was the first to check every box, I’d determined my type through the years as I floated through the sea of women beckoning for my attention and getting my dick as a result. It was almost all I ever had to offer until now.

“Is black your favorite color?”

She nodded, confirming what I’d known all along.

“Do you like the Chanel bag?”

“I love it.”

“Figured you could use a black bag for the countless black pieces you have.”

“Thoughtful,” she responded, smiling with her entire body.

“Are you ready, Choc?”

“Yes.”

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