Page 10 of In Another Time

My own orgasm built fast, fire licking up my spine. “Shit. . . I’m bout to—fuck, Lennox,” I groaned, pulling out and stroking myself as I came in hot spurts across her stomach and thighs.

Breathing heavy, I collapsed beside her, pulling her close as she giggled breathlessly against my chest. “That was. . .” she whispered, voice raw.

“I know,” I said, kissing her forehead.

After I cleaned us up and swapped out the sheets, we slid back into bed like we were made to fit that way—tangled up, skin to skin, hearts still beating heavy from everything we’d just shared. Lennox lay draped across my chest, her breath steady, her hair spilling over me in soft waves that smelled like heaven and sex. And I couldn’t stop looking at her. Couldn’t stop feeling her, even in the quiet.

She was beautiful, yeah—brown skin kissed by the faint light sneaking in through the window, lips slightly parted, that little crease in her brow even in rest—but it wasn’t just that. It was something underneath. Something solid. Something soulful. She looked like peace. Like a prayer answered.

My fingers trailed along the curve of her shoulder, slow and gentle, and that was when it hit me. Like dead in the chest. I didn’t just want Lennox; I loved her. Already. And yeah, it sounded crazy as hell. We hadn’t even scratched the surface of everything we could be. But none of that mattered. She felt inevitable,. . . like she was always supposed to land in my life exactly when she did. In my bed. In my arms. In my heart.

And I knew right then—there was no backing out. Not from this. Not from her.

LENNOX

Istirred awake to the sensation of soft lips brushing along the curve of my shoulder, trailing a line of warmth that pulled me out of sleep.

My eyes fluttered open, and the first thing I saw was Omir. His head was bent, his mouth leaving gentle kisses on my bare skin, as though he couldn’t resist the urge to touch me even while I slept. The room was bathed in soft morning light, and for a moment, I allowed myself to sink into the tenderness of it.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and full of sleep.

“Morning,” I replied, my voice hoarse from the night before.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze sweeping over my face as a smile spread across his lips. “You’re even more fine in the daylight.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “I’m sure I look a hot mess, so I doubt that.”

“I don’t,” he said firmly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “Stay right here. I got something for you.”

Before I could respond, he slipped out of bed and disappeared. I sat up slowly, pulling the sheet around me as the reality of the night before began to settle in. My body still hummed with the memory of his touch, but my mind was already racing ahead.

Moments later, Omir returned with a tray balanced in his hands, and the scent of coffee and fresh fruit filled the air. He set it down on the bed beside me, revealing a spread that looked straight out of a magazine—fluffy omelets topped with charred peppers, toast, berries, and a steaming mug of coffee.

“You made this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Fun fact. I like to cook,” he said, settling beside me on the bed. “And I figured you could use a little fuel after last night.”

The way he said it made my cheeks flush, and I quickly reached for the coffee to distract myself. “Thank you,” I said, taking a sip.

We ate in companionable silence at first, but it wasn’t long before he broke it. “About last night,” he began, his tone easy but curious. “Can I see you again?”

I froze for a moment, my fork hovering over my half-eaten omelet. I had felt something deep last night, something I didn’t want to put into words. Being with Omir was unlike anything I’d experienced before. It wasn’t just the physical connection; it was the way he peeled back layers I didn’t even know were there. But that was exactly why I needed to push it aside.

“Last night was fun,” I said, forcing a smile as I focused on my plate. “But that’s all it was.”

Omir didn’t respond right away, and when I glanced at him, I could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Just fun?” he asked, his voice measured.

“Yes,” I said firmly, setting down my fork. “I have a lot going on right now—my career, my goals. Right now, I’m vice president of the company I work for. The goal is to be the president. The first black woman president. I don’t have time for anything more.”

His jaw tightened for a moment, but then he nodded, leaning back against the headboard. “I get it,” he said, though there was something in his tone that made me wonder if he really did.

“I should get going. What’s your address?” I asked, setting the tray aside and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed to request my Uber.

He told me, watched me as I slipped back into the clothes I’d worn the night before, the fabric feeling heavier now than it had then. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t dare meet them.

“Lennox,” he said softly as I adjusted my blazer. I turned to face him, trying to keep my expression neutral. “Last night was more than just fun,” he said, his voice steady. “Shit, at least for me it was.”

My chest tightened, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. “It can’t be more than that,” I said quietly. “I’m not in a place where I can. . . I can’t give you what you need.”

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