Page 22 of Ex- Factor
Silas reached in between us and shoved him. Not hard, just enough to make him stumble back a step. “I said back up off her.”
“Silas,” I whispered, reaching for him. His body was tense. Hands balled into fists.
Donte pointed at him, eyes never leaving mine. “You temporary, man. A placeholder. She’ll be back, white boy.”
I stepped back, predicting the future.
Silas swung.
It was a clean, sharp jab to the jaw. Donte’s head snapped to the side.
When he righted himself, he stared at me as if I had hit him. But then I could feel myself smiling. Maybe that’s why.
Then he came back swinging, catching Silas in the mouth.
“Yo, yo!” Cassius appeared out of nowhere, sliding between them, staring at Donte. “Easy, you big motherfucker. I’ll shoot you if you hit me.”
Donte paused, chest heaving, eyes wild.
Silas growled like a wild animal, and it gave my coochie a tingle—which was so inappropriate at the time. He wiped blood from his lip. “Leave Eshe the fuck alone.”
Donte didn’t say anything. Just stood there breathing hard.
I stepped up then, pushing Silas back with both hands. “Let’s go. Please.”
Silas didn’t take his eyes off Donte, but he let me guide him down the hallway, Cassius following close behind us until the exit. Nobody exchanged words. Silas and I left and Cassius went back in for Angel. I was so embarrassed. My bullshit past had fucked up the night.
Silas and I didn’t speak until we hit the parking lot. The cool air hit my face, but my chest was still hot with adrenaline.
“You okay?” I asked.
Silas looked down at me, blood at the corner of his mouth, lip starting to swell. “I’m okay.”
“Thank you,” I said, voice soft.
“I know you probably mad at me for hitting him,” he admitted, voice low. “But seeing him try to intimidate you like that? No. I couldn’t over look it.”
I looked up at him, heart heavy. “You didn’t have to fight for me like that.”
He gave me a small smile. “Yeah, I did.”
I stood there staring at him—bloody lip, fucked-up shirt, jaw still clenched like he hadn’t fully cooled off yet. He was so fucking handsome and caring. I even liked that he had a hot temper. I liked that we could be in a room full of women and he never eyed one. I loved that he loved a Black woman’s son like he was his own. And something about the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing anchoring him to calm, made me want to kiss him.
I stepped close. Close enough to breathe the same breath. He smelled like cologne and sweat and something warm and masculine underneath it all.
His eyebrow rose, but he didn’t move an inch.
Then I reached up, stood on my tiptoes, and grabbed his face.
His breath hitched and his lips parted. I slid my tongue into his mouth and kissed him. I tasted the copper tang of blood and didn’t care. His hands found my ass, lifting me to stand on his expensive sneakers, giving me a few extra inches.
He groaned low in his throat, and the sound went straight through me. My fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently, while he palmed my ass.
I pulled back to breathe, lips tingling, my fingers still on his jaw.
He blinked at me, dazed for half a second, then licked his split lip and smirked. “If this is what I get for getting punched in the mouth, I might start picking more fights.”
I rolled my eyes and stepped back off of his feet.
