Page 6 of Kandi's Crush: A BWWM Sweet Billionaire Romance

I’d thought I could control myself around him until I looked up at his face. At five-foot-seven, I’m not a munchkin, but he was still at least half a foot taller. His strong muscular arms flexed around me. My God. He smelled familiar and oh so wonderful. A day’s worth of stubble covered his sharp jawline, and his aquiline nose and high, chiseled cheekbones emphasized his best feature—his eyes. They were the color of glaciers on a cloudy day and framed with long, thick eyelashes. The sum of these parts was one beautiful specimen of a man.

I administered three small pats to his back before breaking out of his embrace. When his brows knitted in confusion at my awkwardness, I cleared my throat and looked quickly away. He crossed to the opposite side of the large marble island and climbed onto a barstool, smiling at me.

“What’s up?”

Chadwick

Loneliness was a dangerous state of mind. As an only child, I’d never had siblings to keep me company. I’d used my imagination to entertain myself. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’d played two-player games of checkers by myself. At the end of the game, I was not only a big winner but a big loser.

My life had changed when I joined the Pop Warner league. At twelve, I’d met three boys who became my best friends. I had combatted loneliness with James, Quad, and Mike. Our friendships formed while playing football, but our teenage years made us brothers. We’d shared tales of our first sexual experiences. We’d stolen from our parents’ liquor cabinets and skulked away to the levees. While the barges and towboats floated by, each of us had drank from the bottles and planned our futures. We’d pledged to remain brothers until the end.

I had moved to Washington D. C. to work in the lobbyist industry before I attended law school. For two and a half years, I’d lived within the Beltway, but I had eventually grown weary of the hustle and bustle of the city. The coffee was flavorless up north. The parties, galas, and masquerades were stiff and boring. In a city where politics ruled all, everyone was sophisticated and calculating in their quest to reach the top. I had longed for a slower pace and the familiarity of my hometown.

After months of scouring the New Orleans real estate listings and auction sites, I’d learned of a potential investment property. The previous investors had learned that the building required extensive lead abatement work. They didn’t have enough capital to finish the project, so I’d offered to take it off of their hands. They had quickly accepted my lowball offer.

While my friends purchased cars and designer clothes, I bought real estate. During my freshman year at Columbia University, I’d found a cheap studio apartment on the Upper East Side of New York City. I’d seen a diamond in the rough and polished it until it shined. After my senior year, I sold it for three times my initial investment.

That’s how I caught the real estate bug.

I had continued to focus on flipping properties while I lived in D. C. I’d spent more time researching real estate than studying the law. Since my father had attended Georgetown Law, it had been a foregone conclusion that I would follow in his footsteps. Working with the trades gave me a greater sense of purpose, and I relished the feeling of accomplishment at the completion of a challenging job. The law didn’t fulfill me—therefore, I had no desire to practice. Eventually, I dropped out of law school at the end of my third semester.

Three months ago, I’d returned to New Orleans, ready to pick up where I’d left off as a single man about town, enjoying fine food, top-shelf liquor, and high-class women. I’d planned on going out with my friends and returning home in the wee hours of the morning. Instead, I’d ended up attending intimate social gatherings such as couples’ game nights or book club meetings. I wasn’t even a part of a couple, but that didn’t stop the invitations. There were always nice, homely cousins or smart friends in need of a plus-one.

Last night, the inevitable loneliness had crept back in. Two days before, my best friend, James Pennington, had proposed to his high school girlfriend. While I was happy for him, I was still miserable in my own personal life. I was the last bachelor in my social group, and there were no romantic prospects in sight.

The best solution to loneliness was a stiff drink and a warm body to commiserate with, so I strolled to a neighboring Emeril Lagasse restaurant for dinner and struck up a friendly conversation with the bartender.

The girl in the red dress had walked in with a group of vivacious friends. She’d stood tall, lean, and unaffected by the high energy of her companions. Like a predator in the wild, I’d stalked over to the long-legged vixen and whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

Getting my dick wet would have satiated my need for companionship, but like an idiot, I’d foolishly decided against booking a hotel room and brought her back to my place. Three glasses of red wine, a few hits of a blunt, and a blow job later, we’d passed out in my bed. At the crack of dawn, I’d awakened to a hand tightly wrapped around my cock. Touching and rubbing had led to licking and sucking. We’d been in the shower when Kandace had loudly crashed back into my life.

I hadn’t planned for the lady in the red dress to spend the night, and I certainly hadn’t counted on Kandace’s arrival. I’d played bedroom games my entire life, but I’d been unprepared to smoothly and politely usher my overnight guest out while greeting my unexpected early morning arrival.

Celeste hadn’t warned me that Kandace would be the person to clean my apartment. If I’d known, I would’ve picked up the mess in the loft, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have chosen last night to break my three-month sexual dry spell.

I pulled a shiny red apple out of the fruit basket and took a large, noisy bite while Kandace scrutinized the room and jotted down notes on her clipboard. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been adjusting to womanhood and preparing for college. We’d spent the summer trading secrets and stories of our insecurities. Despite our parting promise to remain friends, we’d lost touch. Three years later, she’d returned to me as a grown woman.

Kandace Alexander.

Her name rolled off the tongue. Her nickname couldn’t have been more fitting. She was candy personified—sweet, tempting and addictive. I couldn’t help but wonder if she would melt in my mouth just as easily.

At twenty-one, Kandace was a gorgeous woman. An explosion of dark brown curls surrounded skin the color of creamy caramel. The coils tickled her shoulders in a way that mesmerized everyone she met. She’d once been willowy, almost reed-like. But today, the white polo and khaki pants she wore clung to every curve of her body. The fit was so exact that it wasn’t difficult to imagine how she might look naked.

I chewed on my lip for a minute as I concocted an excuse for my guest’s presence.

“Hey. About earlier . . .” My implication was clear as I nodded toward the elevator, but she interrupted me with an artificially bright smile and a shrug.

“No worries. I shouldn’t have arrived early. I didn’t mean to intrude. Your apartment is beautiful, but your elevator is shit! I must have called on Jesus fifty times in that death trap. Are you sure your friend made it down without incident?”

“Thanks to you, she knows there is an emergency alarm button,” I chuckled. “My favorite ride is when the elevator resets itself. The car zooms up several floors, then the doors open to the concrete shaft. The elevator repairmen looked at it a few weeks ago. It’s a work-in-progress.”

“From here on out, I’m walking up the six flights of stairs. I need the exercise anyway.” She sobered before continuing, “I love you like my cousin, and I hate to say this, but you’re a slob! Look at this!” She held up two trash bags containing bottles and carryout boxes. I grinned sheepishly.

“Remember Penn?” She flashed a look of confusion, so I clarified, “James Pennington?”

“Oh, yeah. I remember him and your band of slimeball friends.”

“Ha-ha. Not anymore. James stopped by to celebrate his engagement. We called Quad and Mike to join us. It was like old times, and things got out of hand.” She frowned in apparent concern. “Don’t worry, Kandace. My friends are either married or engaged. I rarely entertain.”

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