Page 48 of Cuffed By Your Love
“Jonay,” he said, voice low, like words meant for just us. “You ever think God don’t make mistakes? That maybe He put me here to protect you, provide for you, and be your peace, not as a rescue, but as a response?”
I swallowed. “And what if I’m scared to need that?”
“Then I earn it,” he said simply. “Daily.”
His eyes asked a question my mouth didn’t know how to shape. I answered by tipping my face up.
The kiss began like a breeze and deepened like a storm, soft, then certain. His hand slid to the back of my head, thumb atmy nape. My fingers curled in his shirt like I was holding on to the best decision I’d made in years. Time thinned and stretched, every second slow, golden, suspended. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, feel his answering under my palm, two metronomes finding a shared rhythm.
When we parted, our foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the hush.
“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he whispered, a smile in it, wonder in it.
“Maybe I do,” I admitted breathlessly and he laughed low, pulling me close until my ear rested over his heart.
We sat there for a long time, not saying much, the whole place cocooned in candlelight and the soft scrape of glass against glass somewhere far off. Staff drifted with knowing smiles, the mural’s gold leaf catching tiny starbursts above us, the scent of our new bottles—UnapologeticandOurs—lifting subtly and sure from our skin.
By the time we stood to leave, the night had folded itself around us, no sharp corners, no jagged edges. Just warmth and promise.
Outside, he opened my door again, settled me in, and clicked my seat belt with a little tug that somehow saidmineandsafeat the same time.
“Pretty cargo,” he reminded softly.
“Protected at all times,” I finished, cheeks hurting from smiling.
Coco Jones eased back through the speakers. I sang without thinking, and he drove without rushing, like we had all the miles in the world to get this right.
At my door, he didn’t ask to come in. He didn’t push for more. He kissed my knuckles, then my forehead, and asked for another date like he already knew the answer.
“Yes,” I said, no hesitation left. “Lead.”
His grin could’ve lit the block. “Gladly.”
When I closed the door behind me, I leaned against it, palms pressed flat, heart tap dancing against bone. The room smelled faintly of lemon and jasmine and him. I padded to my dresser, set the matte-black bottle down, and ran my thumb over the golden word.
Unapologetic.
Outside, I heard his truck idle a second longer than necessary, as if he needed to make sure the house took me in safely. I smiled into the quiet and whispered to the empty room that suddenly didn’t feel so empty, “Thank you.”
Then I fell on the bed, still smiling, replaying every moment—the seat belt click, his careful hands, the spin of oils, his mouth on my wrist, the candlelight, and the promise in his voice.
It wasn’t fear, and it wasn’t doubt, only peace, rooted deep enough to take hold and grow.
The shea butter folded beneath my spatula like silk, thick and glossy as I whipped it in steady circles. Vanilla and almond oil bloomed in the air, mixing with lavender until the whole room smelled like a hug you could wear. This was my sanctuary. The music was low, jars lined up in rows, me in my apron with my curly locs pinned back by that butterfly clip I’d painted months ago.
The peace didn’t last long.
The door creaked, and Jason’s voice rang out like a siren.
“Yo, sis! This the lab? You got it smellin’ like Bath & Body Works times ten in here.”
Leila followed close behind, swaying into the room with her fine self, heels clicking against the hardwood. She leaned overone of my open jars, sniffed, and sighed like she’d just walked into Heaven.
“Mmm. This right here? Smells edible,” she teased, rubbing a dab of butter into her wrist.
Jason shot her a look, stepping up behind her like a shadow. “Lady J,” he warned, voice low but playful. “Don’t you ever wear that shit outside this house without me. You hear me? Not to Target, not to brunch, not even to check the damn mailbox.”
Leila smirked, rolling her eyes as she rubbed the butter deeper into her skin. “Baby, please. You knew what it was when you married me. I’m gon’ shine regardless.”
