His Jaguar Tattoo

Sweatpants

Shame coursed through Zuri. She watched while the woman drew up alongside him and draped her bony arm possessively around his neck. Something screamed inside of her to run.

"This was a mistake," Zuri heard herself say. She spun on her heel. Her next words came out as a breath, hardly audible. "I'm sorry."

The front door clapped closed. Tears were streaming down her face while she rushed to her car, accidentally running into the BMW on the way. Her heart was too hurt to feel the pain in her knee. A harsh chuckle sounded from behind her, making her jump. She turned to find that Drew had followed her outside. His lap dog hadn't bothered to come along.

"I shouldn't have come," she told him, backing up until her back hit the front of her car. "I didn't know...I didn't realize..."

"Hush." Drew closed the distance between them. His body pinned her against the car. "So you finally figured out what you wanted?"

"Don't mock me," she hissed, fighting back sobs.

"I'm not."

"You are."

A whiff of the woman's perfume fell off his shirt and into her face. Zuri felt even more panicked. I'm such an idiot.

"Zuri," he whispered, leveling his face with hers, "what did you say, back there at the door?"

"Th-That this was a mistake."

"Not that," he growled. "The first thing."

She whimpered. "Please, why are you doing this to me?"

Without permission, his nose brushed against her cheek. Her hands pressed against the solid panels of his chest. He was going to kill her. Break her right in two.

"Stop," she begged. "Please. Don't touch me."

"Say it, Zuri. Say it again."

A new horde of tears broke loose, pouring down her cheeks. His nose grazed her ear and the tender flesh under her jaw. She was losing herself. She'd never felt like this before.

"I-I-I...am in love with you." Each word was reinforced with the fierce hammering of her heart.

He brought his lips back to hers. They skimmed and teased but didn't commit. Zuri's fingers instinctively curled into his soft shirt. She took an unsteady breath and leaned into the kiss. It didn't require any thinking. She simply surrendered to instinct.

Drew pressed her harder into the car as he took control. One hand snaked into her hair and the other was planted on the hood of the car. Leaning onto her tiptoes, she gave him all she had. Every ounce of uncertainty, courage, and insanity.

When their mouths parted for air, Zuri rocked back on her heels. She blinked at him, astounded by the hold he had over her. This is dangerous, she realized. He is dangerous. Why I do like this? Why him?

He bent down to kiss her again, his dark eyes lit with fire. Steeling herself, she reclaimed control of her body and held up her index finger. His large hand wrapped around it and pulled it away.

"Don't tell me to hold on," he whispered huskily.

"Drew," she pleaded. "We need to talk about this."

"After. Let's talk about it after."

"After what?" Her eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you take me for—"

"After I take you inside my house," he replied, annoyed. "I'm not going to lead you to my bedroom."

She scoffed. "I never know with you."

"Very funny. Come on."

They walked back to the door, her hand engulfed in his. She glanced over her shoulder at the BMW.

"Wait," she said, tugging back on his grip, "what about her?"

Drew followed her gaze to the car and then rolled his eyes. "She's packing up her things." He pulled her into the house, taking advantage of her surprise.

"Packing up her things?"

He led her into the living room of sorts—everything was open and connected—and gently pushed her onto the black leather sofa. Zuri gulped. What did he do with that girl? Was she just another one of his play things? Another "girlfriend"?

"I make bad decisions sometimes," Drew reminded her. "I've never been rejected before. I couldn't handle it."

The sound of heels clicking across the black tile floor drew their attention. The girl had to pass them to get to the door, and she didn't bother sparing Zuri a scathing glare.

"Don't make this worse for yourself," Drew warned the girl, pointing towards the door. "Our time is over, Samantha."

"I can see that," she snapped. Her gaze shifted back to Zuri. "He's just using you, too, sweetheart. Don't be stupid."

"Get. Out." His shoulders trembled in rage.

Zuri pulled her feet up under her and stared at the girl as she walked away, swinging her hips the hardest she possibly could. Her emotions were one, big confusing conglomeration. The door closed quietly after the girl, but the house was so silent that the noise seemed to ring like a gong.

Drew was looking at her now, but she couldn't peel her eyes off the door. He knelt down on the carpet and rested his elbows on her legs. When she managed to meet his gaze, her heart started racing again.

"She was a mistake. The others have always been mistakes," he told her. "But you are not. You made me love you."

"I don't know how. You don't respect women very well, apparently."

His brows knitted together in pain. "I respect you. That's why I love you. You're different."

"But...what if you get bored with me one day? Will I be like them?"

"No. Marriage is sacred to me. I will honor it."

"Marriage?" she squeaked. "We have a lot to work through before we get to marriage."

Sighing, he nodded. "Okay. Alright. Will you do one thing for me until then?"

"What?"

"Wear my ring. Please." He retrieved the simple engagement ring from his pocket.

She smiled. "You've been carrying that thing around?"

"Yes," he admitted, embarrassed.

"I didn't know you were such a romantic."

"I'm not."

Stifling a giggle, Zuri cupped her palm to his warm cheek. "I'll wear it. But only on my right hand."

Though the proposition didn't please him, he obliged. She let him slip it onto her right hand. It was so pretty and simple.

"Can we talk about all of our issues now?" she asked. "If we're going to make this work, we can't go back to the way things were."

"Let's go to dinner first," he told her. "I want to take you out."

"In this?" She picked at her t-shirt. "I look like a broke college student. Which I guess I am."

Laughing, he rose from his squatting position and lifted her fingers to his lips. "It doesn't matter to me."

"Uh huh. I'm not going into public with you if I'm dressed in sweatpants and you're in a button-up. Everybody will think you're dating a homeless girl."

"Would it make you feel better if I changed?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Maybe."

"Then I'll be right back."