Page 73 of Cuffed By Your Love
Lord, have mercy.
My pulse rattled in my chest like a Congo drum gone rogue, each thump a reminder that this man had me nervous, giddy, and undone all at once. Butterflies weren’t fluttering; they were full-on scrapping in my stomach, elbowing and hollering,Girl, this the one!Heat crept up my throat, settling high in my cheeks. Blushing.Me.Blushing like I was sixteen again, sneaking stares at my high school crush from across the gym floor during homecoming. Only this wasn’t teenage fantasy. This was grown-woman, scarred-but-still-standing me. Healed in some ways, cracked in others. And held, right now, tonight, like I was whole.
And still nervous as hell.
He leaned in, slow and certain, the kind of lean that told me he wasn’t guessing or hoping. He knew. No rush. No hesitation. Just him, unfolding steadily, like he was unwrapping something he knew he’d cherish forever.
My breath stalled. My knees nearly buckled. Then his lips touched mine.
That man kissed me like he was signing his name in cursive across my collarbone with his soul, like every curve and stroke carried weight. My lips carried a map to everything he didn’t know he needed until now. His mouth was tender but sure, heat and reverence rolled into one, and I swore when our lips met—soft, full, anchored in something too raw for language—I didn’t just kiss him back. I surrendered.
The walls I thought I had fortified cracked like glass. I forgot how to be guarded and lost sight of every reason I had rehearsed for why love wasn’t safe for me. I overlooked how many nights I spent crying over being played, ignored, and silenced, as well as the nights I lay awake, convincing myself I wasn’t worth the type of love I kept praying for. I even forgot parts of myself that still flinched when someone’s voice became too loud or when a shadow leaned in too close to me.
All I remembered, in that moment, was what joy tasted like.
His kiss wasn’t wild or careless. It was syrup-slow, Sunday-morning warm, deep as scripture when you stopped reading to check a box and start reading to let it pierce your chest. It was a psalm whispered against my lips, worship tangled in passion, and I let myself feel it all. My eyes fluttered shut, my hands flattening against his chest, every inhale breaking like it was trying to hold on to forever.
His thumb brushed along my jaw, patient, reverent. My fingers curled into his shirt, clutching tight, afraid that if I let go, he’d vanish. The world dissolved: the noise, the smells, the fireworks. All that remained was him, this man’s mouth painting peace across mine, his breath tangling with mine like we’d been doing this for lifetimes.
I didn’t even realize I was crying until I felt a tear race down my cheek, and right after, his lips pressed against it.
Happy tears.
The tears I never thought I would experience again. They felt like God saying,“See? I didn’t forget you.” They were tears of closure and new beginnings mingling together in a way that left both salt and sweetness on my lips.
He pulled back just enough to brush his nose against mine, his eyes searching my face with a tenderness that made me weak. “You good, baby?”
I couldn’t even open my eyes yet. I nodded, my lips parted, my breath shaking like a hymn left half-sung.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
But the truth was deeper than that. Inside, wrapped up in his arms, kissed breathless, feeling seen and safe, I wasn’t just good. I felt like I was home.
His thumb brushed my jaw as my fingers curled around his shirt. Everything around us faded into nothing but sound and color, and that man’s lips painted a sense of peace across mine.
I washome.
EJ was damn near floating when Elias buckled him into his booster in Miss Elyse’s back seat. He hugged his teddy bear like it was a VIP pass to Heaven and waved at us with both hands like he had nothing but joy stored up in his little chest. “Bye, Miss Pretty! Bye, Daddy! I’m going to Gram’s house!”
I smiled and kissed his forehead. Elias reached over and dapped him up like he was one of the boys, then turned to me with that grin that always did something disrespectful to my knees.
When we pulled up to my place, the streetlight flickered like it was trying to set a mood. I reached for the handle.
“Hold up, Deputy Gorgeous. You know better than that,” Elias said, his voice smooth and low.
He got out, jogged around the front like a gentleman, securing his Sig to his waistband, and opened my door. Before I could get a word out, he grabbed my hand and guided me toward my house. Elias pulled his duty weapon from his waistband, clicked on the flashlight, and stepped inside like he paid bills in this bitch.
“Lemme clear it first,” he said, disappearing into the shadows.
I watched him move, methodical, practiced, a whole storm in hush-toned footsteps. He wasn’t just a man. He was security with a fade and a fresh lineup. When he came back to the front door and nodded, I swore my ovaries tried to salute.
“All clear, baby.”
He took my hand, kissed my forehead, and walked me in like I was worth protecting with every bullet in his clip.
“I started your bath,” he said, already moving like he lived here. “I figured you needed to soak some of that drama off.”
The candles were already lit. The bubbles foamed like clouds baptized in eucalyptus and coconut oil. He helped me undress, taking his time like he was memorizing skin instead of just slipping off clothes.
