Page 111 of He Don't Play About Me
“You can take calls around me; I don’t mind if you need to work.”
Love smiled. “Nah, baby, I told them I was out of the office today; whatever it is can wait until I’m back.”
Once we finished eating, Love stood up and grabbed our plates. He placed them in the sink and washed them.
I have never seen a man look sexier. No shirt, his muscles on full display with tattoos crawling all over his body. He looked up from the sink; the sun was hitting his face just right so that the only thing that I could see was his hazel eyes.
“Why are you staring? You’ve never seen a nigga do dishes?” he asked, smiling.
I shook my head, standing up and walking over to him. “Unfortunately, not the nigga I had in my life.”
Love finished and dried his hands and cuffed my chin with his finger.
“I want you to forget who you were with. That’s not you anymore.”
I agreed. “You’re right, and to be honest, this is the happiest I’ve been.”
He kissed me and took my hand, pulling me to his room.
“Come on, let’s get dressed.”
I looked at him strange, but followed along.
We walked back in the bedroom, and I took a seat on the bed while he walked into the closet.
“Soo…” he stated as he pulled something out of the closet. “While I was out yesterday looking at another storefront, I stopped by the mall, and I saw this dress, and I thought of you.”
He walked out of the closet with a short black crocheted two piece with heels that tied up my legs. I looked over the dress with my mouth wide open.
“Baby, this is so pretty.”
“You like it?” Love asked. “I wasn’t sure if you would, but I thought it would look good on you.”
I nodded. “I love it, baby. Thank you.”
Love smiled and kissed me. “You don’t need to thank me. This is just the beginning.”
“Beginning to what?” I asked.
Love paused for a minute. “It’s the beginning of me keeping a smile on your face.”
I was about to respond when his phone rang, and he glanced at it, then back at me.
“Go ahead and get dressed. The car will be here in a few.”
I nodded as I walked away. I heard him pick up his phone.
“Why the fuck do you keep callin’ my phone? I told you I was busy today!” he said low, like he didn’t want me to hear it.
I slowed my walk to the bathroom, trying to listen to what he was saying.
“You blowing my line over a shipment I set up for today?” he paused for a second. “It’s gold shit, put it in my office and I will take care of it tomorrow, since you can’t do shit else, and if you call me again, I’ma fuck you up.”
He hung up the phone, and I rushed into the bathroom and started the shower. Love walked in not long after, pulled me over to him, and took his T-shirt off my body.
The steam from the shower curled around him, and Love took his time kissing my lips, then around my neck. He didn’t move too fast; he was slow and deliberate, letting me feel his hands and his lips all over my body.
Every touch lingered—shoulders, sides, back—it was like he was memorizing me, claiming me without words.
