Page 20 of Luck of the Draw

He shrugged. “It’s only a part-time vocation, not a full-time job.”

“Good call,” I said, setting Deeandra down so I could wrestle out my key. “No need to be too ambitious when it comes to causing trouble. Catch you later, man. Maybe we can play some basketball tomorrow.”

“I got some new moves to show you, old man,” he said, grinning.

“I’m counting on it.”

He slipped back into his apartment as I took Deeandra’s hand and led her into mine.

“Sorry about that,” I said. “He’s a good kid. But”—a shrug—“still very much a teenage boy.”

She gave me a strange look. “You play basketball with him?”

“Yeah. I like kids. Tyrell reminds me of my little cousins back home.”

“That’s nice,” she said softly. Then as I shut the door her attention shifted to my place.

“I’ve only lived here for a couple of months,” I said, feeling the need to explain why the walls are mostly bare and the furniture is purely spartan. “My sister’s coming to visit next month, and she’s going to help me decorate. I’ll admit I’m not much good at things like that.”

Her attention narrowed on a painting over the futon, a whorl of colors. Blue and black and red.

“Dottie gave me that,” I said, walking over and sliding an arm around her, liking the feel of her next to me, the curve of her, the heat. “She said it’s my soul.”

She looked up at me then, from the circle of my arm, her eyes full of need and maybe something else. But I was no great interpreter of women’s glances. If I had been, maybe I wouldn’t be here.

And, weirdly, I found myself thinking of what Dottie said to me two months back.You’re in exactly the right place at exactly the right time.

I almost never felt that way. Ever. But I did now. Here with Deeandra, my Cinderella, I was exactly where I wanted to be.

“Looks just like you,” she said with a playful little twitch of her mouth, and then she slid her hand under my shirt, and a moan escaped me. There was a little self-conscious glint in her eyes. Then she said, “You told me I could touch you wherever I wanted.”

“And I meant it,” I said, letting my hands lower from her shoulders to her waist. “God, you have curves for days. Your body reminds me of Sophia Loren.”

She gasped, and her eyes shone with pleasure. “No one’s ever told me that before.”

“Well, they should. But I’m glad I got to be the first.”

Her hands crept upward, pausing over the ridges of my chest. “I…I’d like to take your shirt off.”

“So do it,” I said with a smile. “You’re in control here, Cinderella. Don’t you forget it.”

She started undoing the buttons, her concentration so complete that I got harder just from watching her, from feeling the slide of her fingers over the fabric, dipping against my chest. I let her do it without interfering, but it didn’t stop me from learning her shape too, moving my hands over that perfect, peach-shaped ass and…

My shirt slid off, and another gasp told me she liked what she saw.

Her face burning red, she asked, “How do you look like this?”

Even though I couldn’t remember ever feeling this turned on, I couldn’t resist teasing her. “I was born this way. They said I was the most muscular baby the doctors had ever seen.”

“I believe it,” she said, her hands spanning my chest, running softly over the ridges. “You’re beautiful.” That flush came back. “I mean…I’m sorry. I guess that wasn’t the right word.”

“It was the perfect word,” I said, reveling in the feel of her hands on me, those soft exploring fingers driving me crazy with need. “I’m glad I look good to you, because I think you are goddamn gorgeous. I’m going to take off your dress now, Deeandra, but I’m going to leave those shoes on. And I’d like you to stand against the wall. I’m going to taste you before I bring you to the bedroom.”

“This is when I wake up and find out this has all been a dream, right?” she said with a nervous laugh, her hands still on my chest, although one dipped to my pants to touch my hardness, and a jolt of pure pleasure shot through me. The things this woman did to me…

Reaching for the hem of her dress, I said, “The best dreams are real life.”

I was about to lift the fabric when suddenly she jolted back, yanking her hands from my chest, as if I’d told her that I’d followed my aunts into the family tradition of doll collecting.

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