Peeling Back the Top Layer 🇯🇲

38| Fuss then make up

My back stiffens when he reaches around my body to open the door. The anger steaming off me must be hot enough for him to feel because he says nothing. Not like I would respond. The minute we're inside I make a beeline for the bedroom where I shower, put on a simple body con dress, and relax in bed, occupying myself with the apps on my phone.

I am avoiding his ass for as long as possible. To kill time, I call to check up on my mother, then my grandmother, who both enquired about my love life and prospects of an offspring.

It amazes me how taken up with children old people are. For them, it's a requirement that must be met and they feel like time is running out based on my age. No one seems to care whether or not I want to put my body through pregnancy and childbirth or subject myself to the tortures of motherhood.

All they keep stressing is that, "Yuh cyaa jus go through life suh. Who ago tek care of you when yuh old?" I am sick of them pressuring me about it. I try to push my agitation aside with a crime drama I have been reading for weeks now. Rolling onto my belly, with my face away from the doorway, I bury myself in the digital pages, allowing the words to come to life.

Just when I'm settling into the plot, Chad quietly enters the room.

"Yuh nuh intend fi eat today?" His deep, provocative voice sends chills up my spine and I flinch under his touch. My entire body goes stiff when he runs his hand up my bare leg. However, I don't turn to look at him. The bed sinks under the weight of his body but still, I keep my eyes focused on the screen in my hand and remain motionless.

"Not hungry."

Chaunard hisses his teeth at my curt response and yanks me by my ankles down to the edge of the bed, flipping me over onto my back and slinging me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. My mind barely has time to process his actions and he ignores my protests and screams for him to put me down.

His long strides take us to the dining room in very little time. He doesn't utter a word until he pulls out a chair and puts me to sit. "Mi know yuh up inna feelings bout yuh old car but you can't be upset with me for telling you the truth." The calmness with which he speaks is disarming but I keep my wrath within easy reach.

That's until I look at him, sitting relaxed and proud in the chair across from me. My heartbeat freezes... then it thunders with horsepower in my chest. Why does he have to be so fucking handsome? His gorgeous face quells my temper and thwarts my best efforts to mask a smile.

I give up on pouting when he grins and I catch a glimpse of his white teeth. My shoulders slump and the tension in my body dissipates, forcing me to relax in the chair. In one final attempt to hold on to even a thread from my unraveling vexation, I cross my arms over my chest and huff. He won't get off the hook this easily.

"Mi can force-feed yuh to if yuh insist on acting like a petulant child," he warns, popping a forkful of food into his mouth so seductively that I shift uneasily in my seat.

It's deliberate, but two can play that game. I remain quiet and start eating, moaning as the spicy jerk flavors and cheese from the delicious shrimp Rasta pasta mingle with my taste buds and set off fireworks in my mouth. Foodgasm!

Marco was absolutely right. The man really knows his way around the kitchen... and the bedroom.

He eyes me with a smirk and shakes his head but says nothing. The silence between us remains unbroken throughout dinner. Not even when I clear the table do we utter a word to each other. Instead, he sits back, ogling me, his eyes following every sway of my hip as he sips wine from his glass.

In the kitchen, I pour myself another glass of wine and start tidying up since he made dinner and I know for sure he hates doing dishes. My mind wanders back to my car when music fills the room, luring my hips into a trance as they move involuntarily to the beat. By the third song, I break out of the haze because I recognize that the playlist is mine.

"Don't stop dancing. I was enjoying that," whispers Chaunard close to my ear. He makes me jump in fright and my poor heart palpitates frantically. His hands come to the counter on either side of my hips, encasing me there. He is close enough for me to feel the heat from his body without touching me.

"Yuh a guh give mi heart attack if yuh keep sneaking up on me like that," I breathe a sigh of relief as my heart slowly gets back to a normal rhythm.

His soft lips place featherlight kisses on my cheek, neck then shoulder. When he stops, he says, "Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you".

"How yuh get my playlist?" I ask.

"The USB drive in your car. Your songs were playing when I started the car today," he reveals as I finish rinsing the last pot and dry my hands.

"Are you going to move?" I ask when he hinders my movement from the counter.

"Depends..." His voice is calm but serious.

"On what?"

"Yuh still upset wid me?"

"Mi neva upset wid you," I sigh.

"Then why yuh did a hide inna di room?"

"I wasn't hiding. Jus did waa relax by myself."

"Stop di fuckery an talk to mi."

"Okay.... Mi never appreciate how yuh talk about mi car and it's like you're deciding what to do with it for me," I confess. He takes a step back, pulling me closer to him and I lean against his body as we sway gently to the music.

"Mi nah try decide fi yuh but your car is one loose screw away from falling apart. Mi honestly can't believe yuh still driving it in that state. It's not safe and I'm just looking out for your well-being."

"I understand where you're coming from but it's weird. I'm used to doing things my way and in my time."

"And I'm used to taking care of my own. So think of a compromise but mi nuh comfortable wid you driving that," he persists.

"Alright, I'll figure sumn out and tell yuh," I give in.

"Good girl," he kisses my cheek the moment Good for You by Selena Gomez starts playing and I give in to the music, letting it guide my movement. One arm goes up over my head and rests on the back of his neck while I rotate my hips, giving him a slow wine. To my surprise, he moves with me and our dancing synchronizes with the music. Damn this man can wine!

We're both lost in the moment. Our movement merges into one and an invisible pull sparks between us, buzzing with determination. I'm comfortable in his embrace and for once I feel like I can let go and hand over the reins to someone else. And that's just what I do.

I relax and let Chaunard take the lead, spinning me around and kissing me fiercely. His hands encircle my waist and my arms snake around his neck. The song ends, but we continue making out until my phone rings, interrupting the moment. Try as I might, I cannot ignore it because whoever it is, keeps on calling.

"Ugh," I groan when we break our kiss. Gillian's name flash across the screen and I contemplate silencing the phone but a subconscious nudge tells me that would be a bad idea.

"Hello," I answer.

"Kelsie... I am at the hospital... Mi nearly kill off Ricardo," she sobs.