Troubled Indeed

CHAPTER ONE

Anthony has been away for "business" for two days. He left right after he made me come through the night. And it still wasn't enough. I guess getting me sated is his way of apologizing in advance when he's going away again. And boy does he know how to apologize. I still sometimes can't believe that I have him. I can't believe how easily I got sucked up in his lifestyle. It's like he's cast a spell on me and my son. We can't seem to stay a moment apart anymore, he's like the air I so desperately need to keep living. The way we met can only be read about in romantic novels. But this is my life and I like the way it's going right now.

I gave him my spare key, in case he needed to stay here or come and go as he pleased. I never asked him to move in and he still has his own place, but he's definitely spending more time with Benjamin and me. Maybe one day in the near future I'm comfortable enough to ask him to stay with us permanently. I've been postponing that big step to give Benjamin some time to adjust to the man in our lives. I also don't know how Anthony would feel about living together.

"Hey babe, you home?" Anthony's voice echoes through my apartment from the small hallway. He's finally back from whatever business he had to attend this time. I feel my body tingling just from hearing his voice. How the hell does he have such an effect on me is beyond me.

"Bedroom, babe," I reply grinning like a fool. I've missed him. I've missed his sarcasm, his pet names for me, his jokes, and most of all his presence. His scent lingered on my sheets for another day after he left, but by now even that was gone, and I need it back.

Anthony walks into my bedroom with the biggest smile on his face and plops himself right next to me on the bed. He pulls me into a tight hug and kisses me ferociously as we roll back and forth on the bed. God, I missed him!

He breaks our kiss to look at me and I can feel my cheeks blushing. That's the effect he still has on me, and I hope it never goes away. Then I notice something.

"Why didn't you wash that off?" I point to his neck, where my kiss in red lipstick from a couple of nights before still lies.

"That doesn't come off," he says with a mischievous smile, "At least not anymore."

"What do you mean?" What the hell did he do?

"Touch it," he says and grabs my index finger, moving it to his neck.

Oh. My. God.

He tattooed my lips, my kiss on his neck forever. I gently stroke my finger over the fresh art on his body. My lip print will be on him forever. I love it. I hate that he did this behind my back, but I love it. It's a grand gesture I wouldn't have expected in a million years. This is his unique way of telling me he loves me. This is true commitment.

"Now I will have your kiss forever," he says sweetly.

"You have it forever anyway," I whisper as I gently stroke his neck, "Thank you for doing this. I love it. I love you."

"I mostly did it for myself, to remind me what matters in life," he admits.

"I still think you're crazy for doing this," I reply and plant a kiss on his new tattoo.

"I never claimed not to be, babe I'm crazy about you, you're my main girl now, I even left my crew," he says half-grinning half-rapping, meanwhile squeezing my butt.

I notice his new art is still a little bit red and has a light scabbing on it. "You need some lotion on it," I tell him and gently stroke his neck again.

I jump out of bed and quickly grab a bottle of lotion from the bathroom. As I walk back into my bedroom, I can sense electricity in the air.

"I love your style," he says looking me up and down. The way his eyes undress me gets me hot everywhere.

It's only now that I realize I'm only wearing my panties and his t-shirt from two nights ago, which barely covers my bottom. I playfully stick my tongue out at him, and he chuckles. I sit astride him and gently apply lotion onto his fresh tattoo.

"If you keep doing that, I'm afraid we won't make it to your mother's for dinner." The look in his eyes has changed – he wants me, all of me. And I can physically feel him growing.

I look at him and he raises one eyebrow. I smile at him and stop stroking his neck to grab it instead. He looks a little bit surprised. I push my mouth onto his as my passion and need for him are overflowing. His kiss is demanding, his grip tightens around me, and I know for sure that we won't be leaving this bedroom for at least another forty-five minutes. That is what he does for me, to me. And I wouldn't want it any other way. I know he's the one.