Page 26 of Anything Necessary for Her
“What would you say?”
“That I like kicking it with you, and long as you wanna kick with a nigga too, I plan to keep doing it.”
I smiled, knowing his back was to me.
“I’ll let you know when I’m ready,” I answered, and he gave a quick nod, moving the bacon from the skillet to a plate covered with a napkin.
I liked that everything was on my terms and that Low wasn’t afraid to do what I wanted and when I wanted it done. I had yet to meet a man like him.
“There you go.” He set a plate of waffles, bacon, and eggs down for me. The bulge at the crotch of his sweats made me nibble my lip while my leg bounced nervously. This man made me feel like I was in heat. “Try that waffle without syrup first.” He sat adjacent to me after grabbing his own plate.
“Why?” I frowned.
“Good waffle don’t need that shit.”
Lifting a brow, I asked, “You think yours is that good?”
“I know.” He ate some of his own after slicing it.
I did the same and then forked one of the fluffy squares into my mouth. I shut my eyes out of reflex at the buttery and sweet taste before popping my eyes back open. It was too late to front though. Low peeped game and smirked.
“Ugh, you get on my nerves!” I rolled my eyes as he laughed a little more than usual.
“You a real life hater if my shit being good makes you angry, lil mama.” He snickered slightly as he dove back into his plate.
I wanted to kiss him as I stole a couple glances at his modelesque side profile.
I chuckled at his comment before eating some more.
“This is amazing though, Low. I didn’t think you could cook.”
“I gota lotof experience with cooking,” he replied, but I caught on, knowing he meant drugs.
“Why aren’t we having this meal at your place? Do you have a live-in girlfriend?” I hiked a brow.
“I don’t.”
“Well?”
“My mama and siblings live there, so ain’t no real privacy, unless you don’t mind being hounded.” He finally gave me some eye contact.
“Oh. You have all this money and choose to live at home?”
“My mama live with me, Banks.”
“How many niggas have said that and be lying?”
“I can’t say, but you know I’m getting bread, so why would I lie?” He sat back, plate empty except for a few crumbs.
“True. You don’t want your own space?”
“I do, but umm”—He sipped out the bottled orange juice he’d supplied for us—“my mama ain’t really in a place to be motherly, but she also don’t wanna be without her kids, so I’m kind of stuck. I’m the provider, protector, and glue of that household, so I can’t be too far. Working from Vegas all that time caused me to be back and forth constantly.”
“I see.” I watched him, noticing he didn’t want to discuss this, due to his rigid body language. “I know you have Waverley, but who is your other sibling?”
“Little brother. Wyatt. He sixteen.”
I nodded, deciding to change the subject since I could see his discomfort.
