Page 102 of Treason's Temptation
When he settled, the water shifted, and I rested my cheek against his head. My hands roamed slowly, fingertips tracing the planes of muscle, the steady beat of his heart under my touch. I wanted him warm, soft, and completely at ease before I shattered the calm.
He exhaled deeply, his body relaxing under my palms. Usually, he was my anchor, but tonight, I wanted him to lean on me.
“Happy now?” he grumbled with a smile.
“Ecstatic,” I murmured. “How was your day?”
“Long… but these,” he murmured, grabbing my breast, the warmth of my skin gently covering his ears, “drown out all the bullshit. Fuck the day.”
I laughed softly, brushing my fingers through his hair. “Glad I can help.”
He let out a low, amused hum, tilting his head slightly, as if surrendering to the absurdity and comfort of it.
“How wasyourday? You’re being nice as hell tonight.”
“Wow, so I’m not nice to you?”
“Not this fuckin’ nice. You like hiding this side from a nigga like I don’t know it’s here.Don’t be weird Tre! That was work!” he mocked.
“See, and I was about to compliment you. You just ruined it.”
He nuzzled a closer, letting the playful intimacy settle into something tender.
“Aight, I’m ready for my compliment now.”
“You know you do that for me too,” I admitted, “Drown out the bullshit.”
“Navie‘men ain’t shit’Dixon complimenting me?”
“Oh my God! There you go, being weird!”
“I’ll be the weirdest nigga you know after that compliment. They’re hard to come by from you.”
“Am I really that bad?”
Guilt crept into my gut. Treason was so open in how he felt. He didn’t question or second-guess his thoughts.
“Some days, but I knew it was something deeper. It had to be, then you told me aboutCandy Man, and I get it.”
Treason heard my thoughts dwelling on the conversation, so he changed the subject. He always seemed to know what I needed, even in silence.
“Wassup with you and thisweirdword. What does that even mean?”
“All those degrees on the wall and you don’t know whatweirdmeans?” I challenged.
“The definition doesn’t fit the context your smart ass likes to use it in.”
“Sweet potato pie or peach cobbler?”
I frowned, “Cobbler is gross. Sweet potato pie.”
“Don’t let Evie hear you say that. She’ll take that as a personal challenge,” he warned.
“The idea of warm fruit makes me wanna vomit.”
“Mary J. Blige heartbreak song or celebration anthem?”
“Heartbreak, Mary. I’ll even take in love Mary, but she can keep those celebration anthems.”
