Page 86 of Rather: The Therapist

Because, though I’d promised to keep things between us at The Mansion, I didn’t mind breaking her ass off in the worst way in the women’s restroom with the door locked and her face so close to the sink she could smell the H2O from its pipes.

Kleigh and Killian both twisted their necks in my direction. Their curiosity wasn’t allowed much time to pique. Rather condensed their abilities, making it impossible to see or hear anything other than her.

“Kofi.”

She tilted her head, balancing her weight on the other leg. Her breast pressed against the fabric of her cropped shirt. Her eyes darted in my direction.

Just as they locked, her nipples pebbled. She shifted her weight a second time and cut her eyes toward Kofi, again.

“Your turn. Come join me on the court.”

I waited for the response everyone knew was coming but Rather. Kleigh rolled her eyes before words surfaced. Kofi was ruining her chances at forming the unbreakable bond she was trying so hard to build with Rather.

Though he was her heart, she was growing tired of his bullshit, especially when it came to the woman she was beginning to harbor platonic feelings for. He was embarrassing her. That’s where she drew the line, I assumed.

“Take a look around, baby,” he told Rather, “I’m not dressed for the occasion. I can’t keep my Glock on my hip jumping up and down the court.”

Without a word, Rather lifted her skirt, exposing the shorts beneath it. And, underneath them was the print of a baby pistol I was sure was holstered with a strap around her thigh that wasn’t exactly visible.

My dick rose to the occasion. She was hell and it was only one of the hundreds of reasons I couldn’t get her off my brain.

Lethal.

Rather was nothing short of greatness and it was an honor to observe her existence. Because, frankly, that was stunning enough. Even if she never spoke, I’d overdose on movement and silent power alone. She was a force and we were all victims of her all-encompassing nature.

“Any more excuses?”

Kofi’s smile split his face in two almost.

“Convincing,” he admitted, “But, I’m not that nigga, Rather.”

“Good, then, because I had something better than the Rolex in mind this time.”

She took off toward the court, not waiting for him to deny her, again. Instead, she stepped inside of the court and faced the fence in front of her, preparing to play alone with the fence propelling the ball in her direction each time she hit it.

“Nigga,” Killian blurted, “Ninety days my ass. You’d better get your shit together or that fucking girl is going to grill you and eat you for dinner.”

“She can taste my meat without killing me. All she has to do is get rid of that bullshit ass rule sh–”

“Rule?” Killian asked.

Though I was tuned into the conversation, my eyes were in a far, far away place. They were on her, watching as she made due with the shit my brother was spoon feeding her.

“I made it clear I wasn’t stopping my extracurricular activities as we waited to walk down the aisle. She made it clear I wasn’t sliding in that pussy as long as I continued with them.”

“Oh shit–” Killian chuckled, “She’s not a bird brain.”

“Did you expect her to be?” My thoughts rang out, unintentionally.

Fuck.

“Not exactly, but you never know. The smartest women turn out to be the dumbest motherfuckers when it comes to a nigga. The shit you wouldn’t expect or assume she should know better than tends to take the backseat when a man is involved. I’ve witnessed it too many times before,” he explained. “But, how quickly I keep forgetting this isn’t the average woman. Nothing about that damn woman is predictable.”

Absolutely nothing.

Satisfied with his response, I stood and stretched my limbs. “Since her nigga is scared to kick her ass, I will.”

“Hope you’ve set aside some bills. She doesn’t lose and her requests are not average, either. Hence the Rollie on her wrist.”

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