Page 141 of Heavy Is The Crown

Kenyatta sat back in one of the sleek, black armchairs, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one hand lazily gripping a crystal glass of Montclaire XO, a cognac refined by Trinity Bay’s very own Black-owned distillery. He heard about it but never had the privilege of actually getting to taste it. It was an elitist drink. If a person had to ask the price, then they couldn’t afford it. Simple as that.

It was velvety, complex, with a dangerous smooth finish that lingered. No ice, no distractions; just respect. He definitely felt it.

He watched Krys from across the low-lit room, her petite frame perched on the edge of the bar, swirling her own glass but barely sipping it. She was running out of diversions.

“You always this tense, Krysta?” His voice was low, edged with amusement but laced with something heavier.

She grimaced, lifting her chin. “Tense? Please. I already told you; I just like to be in control of my space.”

Kenyatta hummed, taking a slow sip. “Your space, huh?”

Krys tilted her head, regarding him with a slow smirk. “You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

He chuckled, setting his drink down on the low table beside him. “Nah, just observing. You move like you don’t let nobody touch nothing unless you say so. Even conversation. Bet you hate surprises.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but there was intrigue there too. He wasn’t wrong. “And what if I do?”

Kenyatta leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his stare locking with hers in a way that made her breath hitch. “Then I feel bad for you,” he murmured. “Bet you ain’t never had nobody make you let go before. You so used to running shit, you don’t even know what it’s like to just…surrender.”

Her grip on the glass tightened slightly. The tension in the room shifted, the teasing edge thinning into something else, something deeper, something dangerous.

“And you think you can make me?” Her voice was steady, but he caught the flicker of uncertainty, that unspoken challenge wrapped in bravado.

Kenyatta grinned, slow and deliberate, before standing. He crossed the room with unhurried confidence, his towering presence swallowing the space between them. Krys didn’t move. She refused to be the one to back down.

But then he was there, standing between her parted knees, hands resting on the polished bar on either side of her. His scent, clean, dark, masculine, wrapped around her like silk and suffocation all at once. His voice dipped lower, huskier, his breath warm against her skin.

“Not think. I know.”

Her thighs clenched instinctively, but she still held his gaze, even as her breath shallowed. He was too close. Too confident. Too in control of this moment.

He lifted his hand, tracing a single finger down the side of her jaw, slow and deliberate, watching her body react before she could stop it. Her lips parted, barely, just enough for him to catch the smallest intake of breath.

“Mmm,” he murmured, tilting his head as if he’d just proven a point. “Look at that. Ain’t even touched yo’ ass yet.”

She swallowed, trying to find a steadying thought in the haze of his presence. “You like to talk, don’t you?” she mused, her voice lower than before.

Kenyatta gave a cocky smile. “I like to see you react. And I ain’t gotta say much ‘cause your body already answering for you.”

Her skin burned at the truth in that.

He lifted his other hand, his fingers trailing along her bare thigh, where the hem of her dress had ridden up. The touch was featherlight, teasing, purposeful. She could stop him. She should stop him, but she didn’t.

Instead, she exhaled, tilting her head up just slightly. “And what if I don’t wanna let go?”

Kenyatta leaned in, so close his lips barely brushed the shell of her ear. “Then I’ll make you.”

A shudder ran through her, sharp and electric.

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes again. “Lemme show you something, Krys. Let me show you how good it feel to stop thinking for once. To stop planning. To stop calculating. To just feel.”

His thumb dragged slowly across her bottom lip, his hooded gaze watching the way it trembled under his touch. The heat between them was scorching now, pushing past the threshold of tension and into something undeniable.

It wasn’t terrifying; it was intoxicating.

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she finally exhaled the words. “Show me, then.”

His grin was slow, triumphant before they locked into a sensual kiss full of fervor.

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