“Nah,” he smirked, glancing over at me. “I’m yours.”
And just like that, my laugh faded into something warm. The streetlights blurred past as we flew through the neighborhood. I glanced at the dashboard clock once more to see that it was twelve-fifteen. I ran a hand through my wild-ass hair and exhaled hard, heart thudding from the orgasm, the laughter, the everything.
The potion worked. And now? I had a nasty ass thug with stamina for days, a mouth like sin, and a soul tied to mine for real. Lord help us both.
WEDNESDAY
T h es u np e e k e dthrough my curtains like it had a damn purpose, beaming directly across the bed and warming my bare legs. I stretched a little, wincing from the soreness between my thighs, my hips, and my back.
I blinked, then turned my head slowly. Khalid was laid out with one arm slung over his head, the other resting on his chest, lips parted, breathing deep and slow. I sat up slowly, the sheets falling to my waist. My heart picked up like a drumline, joy bubbling up before I even knew what to do with it. I stared at him, grinning like a damn maniac. He looked so peaceful and so fucking fine.
“Khalid,” I whispered, poking at his shoulder. Nothing. I poked again. “Khalid.” Still nothing. I slapped his chest lightly. “Wake up.”
His eyes cracked open just a little, red at the corners. “The fuck, baby…” he grumbled, voice deep and full of sleep. “Why you breathin’ so hard in my face? What’s wrong?”
I giggled and climbed on top of him, straddling his stomach. “Because you’re really still here! The potion really worked!”
He blinked slowly, pulling the blanket over his face. “We know this already. Wake me up again when it’s Thanksgiving. I miss that shit.”
“Khalid!”
He groaned, pulling the covers back just enough to eye me up and down. Then, he flashed a big ass grin and pulled me closer, kissing my cheek. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, ma.”
I grabbed a pillow and hit him. “That’s not funny. We got a lot to take care of now. You need a new social, ID, clothes, a phone, and…”
He leaned back, grinning. “You gon’ teach me all the new shit?”
“Yep. Gotta catch you up on social media,Caresha Please, the best Drake albums, Trump, and a whole lot more.”
His face twisted. “Caresha who?”
“Exactly.”
We moved through my apartment like we’d been doing this for years. We showered together first—well,triedto. It turned into him damn near fucking me into the tile before I snatched the showerhead and sprayed him dead in the face to calm hisdemon ass down. Breakfast came next. Or whateverhecalled breakfast. Khalid insisted on cooking and somehow burned the toastandthe turkey bacon.
“It’s ‘posed to be crispy,” he muttered, squinting at it like it betrayed him.
I ended up taking over before he set my kitchen on fire, whipping up fluffy eggs, pancakes, and turkey sausage while he stood behind me trying to steal kisses and acting like dying fifteen years ago was a valid excuse for not knowing how to scramble a damn egg.
While we ate, he held my phone trying to figure out Face ID and cussed it out when it didn’t recognize him. “This is some bullshit.”
Damn near choking on syrup from laughing so hard, I managed to get out, “No, it only works with my face.”
We stayed like that all morning, just vibing on the couch, and planning. I even helped him research jobs that didn’t require background checks, and I laughed at his choice of a new government last name.
“Knight? What kinda last name is that?”
“Khalid Knight. That shit sounds ill.”
“You need a real ass name. Like… Khalid Washington or some shit.”
“Says the one whose mama named her Wednesday Attims.”
I gave him the side eye, folding my arms across my chest. “How’d you know my last name?
He smirked, rubbing his hands together. “I peeped your driver’s license when you was sleep. Your picture is cute as fuck, by the way.”
“Whatever!”