Robyn checked the oven timer then scurried back to her bedroom to finish getting dressed. What was she thinking trying to cook for him? She searched through her closet with shaking hands, sprinting back to the kitchen in her underwear when something boiled over. The only other people she ever cooked for were Mel and her family. They loved her, so they loved her cooking. Chris would be a real test of her ability. She pulled on her shorts and a fitted shirt with a deep V-neck. It showed a little more skin than she usually liked, but she felt like being bold. when he knocked on the door, she quickly yanked a brush through her hair. No time to find shoes. Why did I invite him over so early? A little smile lit her eyes. Stupid question. She ran to the door and looked out the peephole, distracted by an unknown humming noise. A big bunch of flowers covered Chris' face. Robyn laughed and opened the door. Chris' mouth fell open, and for a minute, he gulped like a fish. His bad brown eyes studied over her all the way from her messy hair to her bare toes. "You look good enough to eat." His smile made her shiver. "Thank you." "I, um, flowers." He gasped again. "I brought you flowers. Cause, I think that's what you're suppose to do and shit.. But yeah.. " She chuckled "They're beautiful. Thank you." "My pleasure." He pulled her close and kissed her, molding his body against hers the way she liked. Robyn knew she had something important to do, but when his lips touched her skin, she forgot everything and melted in Chris' arms. Melt.... That sounded familiar. A sizzling sound from the kitchen snapped her back to reality. "Ah shit...The butter is burning!" She tore away from him and ran to the kitchen. She rescued the butter, checked the potatoes, flipped the chicken, and put the flowers in a vase. He caught her as she ran past him, nibbling her neck as she searched the fridge. "Mmm... yummy." "Stop distracting me or you won't get any dinner." "You're so tasty, fuck I need dinner for?" He kissed her until the sizzling started again. "So I slaved over this hot ass stove for na-ting?" "Hell nah, I'll eat that too." A naughty look grew in his eyes. Robyn grabbed the hot pan, and her finger bumped the rim. "Fuckkk!" She turned on the faucet and stuck her hand under the cold water. "Let me see it." Chris examined her fingertip. He softly kissed it, pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it. "Better?" His eyes sparkled as his tongue soothed her." She nodded, breathing hard. "Glad I could help." It wasn't what he said so much as the way he said it. His tone dripped with suggestion and his naughty eyes said what his sweet lips didn't. "You so dirtyyyyy." She turned back to the stove before he could see her smile. He put his hands on her hips and turned her around, trapping her against the cabinets. "I think that's why you like me." She shook her head, biting her lower lip. It didn't seem possible, but he'd found a way to move closer to her. "I don't think you've had enough bad boys in your life." "One is more than enough." She braced herself against the counter when he kissed her, letting his hands explore her body. "Think you can handle me?" "I'd like to." Oh, the things that came out of her mouth when she talked to this man. She wanted to handle him in all sorts of ways. She wanted to let him be as bad as she knew he could be, and she wanted to be bad with him. There goes them damn bad gal tendencies, funny they only existed when she was with him. He laughed and lifted her up onto the countertop, standing between her spread legs. He slid one hand under her shirt, stroking her hot skin, while brushing his other hand against her inner thigh, teasing her. "No more waiting. If I wait any longer, I'm gonna explode. That beeping noise is a warning." His hand stopped moving and he looked around. What the hell? Robyn slapped the beeping oven timer, both relieved and disappointed by the interruption. "Dinner's ready." Chris sighed. A square oak table and four chairs were tucked in the small space between the kitchen and living room, creating an intimate dining room. Robyn set Chris' flowers as the centerpiece, lit a pair of candles, then set two places opposite each other. When she went back to the kitchen, Chris moved his plate to the corner next to hers. "I won't bite...." She saw right through those devious brown eyes. "Unless I want you to?" He laughed when she bit her lip. "Damn right." "Shut up and pour the wine." "My pleasure." She served her favorite, most dependable recipes: chicken with lime butter, mustard green beans, and roasted red potatoes. She couldn't go wrong with that. She was going to cook him something from home, but decided it might've been to early tryna take di boy to the islands already. "Wow, Robyn, this is delicious." "Thank you." "Who taught you how to cook?" "My ma did. She actually let me do it." "What else did she not let you do?" "Where do I start? She wouldn't let me go to R-rated movies. She wouldn't let me listen to hip hop music. She wouldn't let me go to Parties. She didn't let me go out on dates till I was eighteen. "Damn." "But I did sneak out with my girlfriends a few times. We met up with guys and went dancing and to the movies. She grounded me for two months when she found out." "Ouch." "She didn't let me wear makeup, but I borrowed some from my friends' at school, and then I accidentally wore it home one day." "How long did you get for that?" "Ha, at you saying that like i was doing jail time. felt like it. but The eye shadow smeared all over my shirt, so I had to do the laundry for a month." That reminded her of another of her mother's rules. "She only let me wear white cotton underwear, so as soon as I went away to college, I bought a bunch of tiny lacey panties and matching bras—" "Is that right?" His gaze landed on her chest, and his wicked grin stripped her naked. "Oh. Yeah." Robyn crossed her arms over her breasts. "So why you not like her? You seem to be a normal girl. What changed you?" She took a sip of her wine and thought about that. "I wouldn't say I've changed. I've always been normal... My mother tried to force that on me, but it didn't take. My dad's family was normal, laid-back and easy-going like him. They had a good time no matter what they did, but my mother constantly judged me. I tried my best to win her approval, but I couldn't do it. "After my dad died, I learned to think for myself, and ever since then, I haven't really given a fuck what other people think of what I do." "And yet you still worry about your reputation here on campus." She met his eyes and smiled. "Yeah, I still have some issues to work on. I still feel guilty when I have too much fun. I still do things I know my mama wouldn't like, just to get at her. I hope someday I won't care anymore." Chris threw back his wine and refilled their glasses. "You think moms would like me?" Robyn laughed. "Hell nah." "Good." "You probably could get at her for a little while, but she'll figure you out quick." "Yeah, I've been charming women since the day I was born. My mother could never stay mad at me. I just had to smile at her and flash my brown specs, and she would melt." "Why am I not surprised?" "I can get away with anything. My sisters hate me for it, but it works on them too." "Are you the baby of the family?" "Nah. Middle, but I'm the only boy." "Spoiled rotten." "Yes I am." "Is your pops like you?" His smile faded. "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked about him." "It's okay." He gulped his wine. "Yeah, he is. I learned a lot from him, but most of it comes naturally." He winked at her. "What else did he teach you?" He groaned. "Now that's a question you definitely shouldn't have asked." "Oh." She bit her lip and looked down at her plate. His lips formed a hard line as he pushed his chair back and crossed his arms over his chest. "That nigga taught me that..... love is for romance novels, Hallmark cards, and getting laid on Valentines' Day. Romance doesn't last, so just have a good time—no strings attached—and no one gets hurt." She took a bite of chicken and thought about that. "There's nothing wrong with having a good time." Isn't that why she'd decided to go out with him? "But don't you want more than that?" He gave her a blank look. "Like what?" "Like commitment, a relationship, someone you can spend the rest of your life with?" He didn't budge. "Hell no." "Oh, sorry, is that too boring for you?" She scowled at him over the top of her wine glass. "No, not boring. I just don't think it's possible. I know it isn't." She glared at him, searching his eyes for that mischievous sparkle, but he stared right back at her, completely serious. "I think it's possible." "Well, that's where you're wrong." "It is possible if you meet the right person." Her protest was a little more desperate than she'd intended. He cringed. "And who would that be? I can't possibly be the right guy for you—or anyone. It's not that simple." "How would you know if any girl is right for you if you don't stick around long enough to find out?" "My parents—" "Oh come the fuck on nigga !" Robyn slapped her fork down on the table. "When the fuck are you going to stop blaming your parents for your pathetic love life?" Chris pushed his chair back hard and stood up. "For my what?" "You heard me." She got to her feet and advanced on him" "Your dad couldn't stay with one woman, so you use that as an excuse to do the same thing." He stepped back. "It's not an excuse. I like variety." "Is that what you want?" She stood with her hands on her hips, searching his eyes again for some hint at the truth. "Is fall on the dick hoes what makes you happy?" "Happiness has nothing to do with it." He broke their gaze, turning away from her and running his hands through his curls in his hair. She held her ground. "Really? You're just looking for a good time?" "A variety of good times." He looked back at her and grinned, but he quickly got serious. "It's who I am, Robyn. I am what my parents' Fuck ass relationship made me." He sighed and put his hands on the back of his chair, leaning on it for support. "If that's not good enough for you—" Robyn shook her head, cutting him off. "I don't buy that. I could've turned into an uptight prude like my mom, but I learned to think for myself. I make my own choices." "What choices have you made?" She sat down at the table, took a sip of wine and thought about it. "I chose to run track. I chose to go away to school. I chose to be here with you tonight." She looked up at him, her lips pressed together, wondering if she'd made the right choice. The hard set of his jaw disappeared. "That was your choice? I thought you couldn't resist me." "Yeah, that might have something to do with it, but remember...." She tried to give him a disapproving look, but couldn't get rid of her smile. "I said no first." "I remember. I also remember how you couldn't keep your hands off me in the library." His eyes slid down her body. "And in the park." "You started that shit." She looked away again. "And You didn't stop it." He sat down and reached across the table, making her look at him. "I know you want me Robyn, say it. Tell me." "No." She tried to defy him. "You tell me." "I already have. That's never been a secret." Chris withdrew his hand and met her eyes. "I don't lie. If anything, I'm a little too honest." "I've noticed." "I say what's on my mind, and I don't give a shit what other people think." "I've noticed that too." "For example, I think your bare feet are the sexiest part of your body I've seen so far, and I can't wait to see the rest of it." He slid closer, but didn't touch her. "And to get my hands on it. Again." Her skin got hot and her heart pounded. Oh God. One smooth line from him, and she was willing to forget all about their argument and crawl into his lap. "You don't know when to quit." "Should I?" She shook her head. "I aint think so." He grabbed her behind her knee and pulled her closer, chair and all, and slid his hand up her thigh. He wanted to sleep with her tonight; she could see it in those gorgeous brown eyes. Oh God. Oh— "Damn it." "What did I do wrong?" "I forgot to make dessert." Robyn hoped he couldn't tell she was stalling. She'd crawled all over him when she knew he wouldn't do anything about it, but now she knew he would, and it scared her. "You're my dessert." He stood up and held out his hand. "Come sit on the couch with me." "What about the dishes?" Was he testing her? Did he want to see how far she'd let him go? "They're not going anywhere. Come on." He took her hand and practically dragged her to the living room. She sat on the couch the way her mother had taught her to sit in church: straight up, knees pressed together, hands in her lap. Chris sat beside her and slid his hand into her hair, massaging the back of her neck. She tried to let his touch relax her, but it didn't work. Why am I nervous? Mel wouldn't be home until tomorrow morning, and Robyn's bedroom was right down the hall. Robyn knew all of that; she'd planned it that way. But for some stupid reason, she could only think about that awkward first time—clumsy groping, sloppy kissing, pain. It won't be like that with Chris, will it? His hand moved in slow circles under her hair, down her neck, across her shoulders. He reached out and touched her face with his fingers, stroking down her cheek until she turned and looked at him. He didn't say a word, but his eyes told her everything she needed to know. It would never be awkward with him. She relaxed and shifted to a more comfortable position. He grabbed her ankles and lifted her feet onto his lap, rubbing them one at a time. "Mmm... you're so good with your hands." She sighed as the tension finally left her body. "I've been told." He gritted his teeth. "Red is a good color on you." He stroked her painted toes. "Thank you." "Do you know what I have a fetish for?" "I'm afraid to ask." He laughed and ran his fingertips down the center of her foot. "Tickling pretty girls." "Ahh! Don't do that." She jerked her leg away. He caught her foot again and rubbed it while she closed her eyes and sighed. "Actually, I have a fetish for touching. Girls in general; you in particular." Then he tickled her. "Stop it." Robyn giggled and pulled her foot away again, and tucked it under her. "You know I can't resist a challenge." "Try." "Sounds like a challenge to me." He grabbed her ankle and tickled the bottom of her foot, holding tight as she squealed and squirmed. "Chris, no!" She gasped and flailed, wrenching her foot free "and kicking him in the head. "Uh," he grunted. "Oh my God." She scrambled to her knees. "Are you all right? I didn't mean to do that." She gently touched his temple, searching for any permanent damage. "Yeah." He closed his eyes and leaned back. "Remind me never to tickle a pretty track runner, you got them pavement thighs." "I'm so sorry. That was a total reflex." Robyn scurried to the kitchen, and returned with some ice. "It's okay." He held the ice to the side of his head. "A kick to the head will probably do me some good." "I'm sorry." Chris groaned, but his eyes sparkled just a bit as she frowned and picked up the ice pack. "I don't see any bruising or swelling." She kissed his cold skin. "I'm kinda dizzy." He slumped sideways, his face landing nicely between her breasts. His moan sounded a little too happy. He slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled closer, the skin inside the V of her shirt vibrating as he hummed against her. "Feeling better?" "Mm-hmm." His tongue slipped under her shirt, searching. His mouth on her skin felt hot and soft, sending little jolts of electricity all through her body. She wanted more. How could she tell him that? What's holding me back? Free from her mother's rules, free from her mother's guilt, but her own insecurity still got in her way. Robyn took a deep breath and made up her mind. Yes. She wanted Chris, and refused to let anything stop her tonight. She lay back on the couch, stretching out beside him. "You know, if you want to fool around, all you have to do is ask." She draped her legs over his lap, keeping her feet a safe distance from his head. "Nope." He pressed his lips over her pounding heart. "Why waste time doing that shit, when I have you right where I want you?" "Do you, now?" "Oh, hell yes. Let me show you." He caressed the length of her body, sliding his hand under her jeans from her bare ankle to her knee. When he couldn't reach any higher, he pulled his hand out and palmed her thigh, slowly rubbing in circles, cupping her bottom and giving it a squeeze before sliding his hand around to her hip. His fingers traveled just under her jeans and stroked her bare stomach. Then he moved his hand up under her shirt instead of down, caressing her ribs, skimming along below her bra." "She held her breath, waiting for him to keep moving up. He did, but over the top of her shirt—not under it as she'd hoped—caressing her shoulders and neck. His gaze followed his fingertips as they traced inside her neckline, down one edge and up the other, exploring her breasts as they rose and fell under his touch. Her body tingled everywhere he touched her. When her eyes met his, he lifted her chin in his wandering hand and kissed her. His tongue played with hers, and he continued to her neck, tasting her flesh with tiny bites. His mouth moved down, kissing every inch of bare skin he found. Her shirt offered quite a lot of it, but he didn't stop there. He lifted her shirt up a little and kissed her stomach, tickling her ribs with his tongue. This didn't feel awkward or clumsy. This felt exciting and scary, hot and shivering. She hoped he would pull her shirt off, both relieved and disappointed when he didn't. Slow... mmm... gentle... mmm.... Yes, that was the way to go... for now. She ran her hands under his shirt, tracing the lines of his muscles with her fingertips, smiling when he moaned. "Trying to tickle me now?" "Maybe just a little." "Troublemaker." He laughed when her fingers floated over his ribs. "I gotta punish you for that." "Oh!" she gasped, and her heart skipped at the flicker of pure mischief in his eyes. "Is that a good ting?" He kissed her deeply. "No, It's a bad thing." He whispered on her lips, "So. Very. Bad." He pushed her shirt up over her bra and stroked her lace-covered nipples with his thumbs. She squirmed beneath him. The lace did nothing to shield her from his touch. It actually added friction to the heat from his hands, and her body responded in a fevered rush. His hands caressed her breasts, but to her surprise and delight, she felt a hot wet throbbing pulse between her thighs. Please please please touch there too. She couldn't say the words, so she arched into his hands, her body begging for what her lips couldn't. "What you want Robyn?" He looked straight at her, as if he needed permission to continue. How could she tell him what she wanted? She wanted to be naked under his hands. She wanted to feel his mouth on her bare skin, but she couldn't say the words. Not yet. "More," she whispered. "More what?" "More." She couldn't explain. "Bad tings ." Chris laughed and unhooked her bra with one hand, pushing it out of his way. He looked down at her nipples. "How moms feel about those?" He said flicking his tongue over the metal tacks in her nipples. "She doesn't know." "Mhm, bad gal." "Maybe..." His mouth teased one nipple while his fingers stroked the other one. "So pretty, so soft, so much better than I imagined. So. Very. Good." She forgot about feeling nervous. She forgot about feeling awkward. She forgot about everything except feeling his touch, his kiss, his flickering tongue. Her body ached all over, wanting more, needing more, especially the hot wet place between her legs. Could she tell him that? She didn't need to. His hand left her breast to stroke her thighs, sliding between them and up until he rubbed the place she needed him the most. But her nipple needed him too. "I wish you had more hands," she groaned. He grunted, as if his over-stimulated brain couldn't handle a clever reply. He kissed, and licked, and touched, and kissed her all over again. "Damn, Robyn, you turn me on so much." He kissed her mouth, his tongue teasing hers. She closed her eyes so he couldn't see her wondering how many other girls he'd said those same words to. It didn't matter. He was saying those words to her, and he was saying her name. He wanted her. He lifted his head and stared down at her, catching his breath. "You're the most erotic thing I've ever seen. So damn sexy." He kept watching her face as he unbuttoned her jeans. She held her breath as he eased the zipper down, and she opened her eyes. "More?" His fingers tempted her vulnerable flesh. "Yes." He leaned over and kissed her, his hand sliding into her open jeans, caressing her hot skin. He sat back and peeked at the deep purple lace that matched her bra. "I approve." She laughed and caught her breath as he caressed the long length of bare skin between her pushed-up bra and her open zipper. It was a lingering, deliciously thorough stroke—up, down, circling her nipples, reaching under her panties. He bent down and sucked her nipple into his mouth while his fingers searched under the lace between her legs. "Ooohh." She let out a long, loud moan when he found what he was looking for. "You Like that shit?" "Oh yes." "No. It's, 'Oh hell yes'." She giggled. He pulled his fingers away. "Say it." "Oh, hell yes." He kissed her and stroked her soft wet flesh. "I want you," he whispered into her mouth, then kissed her soft lips, her hard nipples, her quivering stomach. "You fine as fuck, I just wanna be with you all night." His mouth on her skin consumed her mind, and she barely heard a word he said. The things he was doing to her felt so.... She couldn't find the words, but it went way beyond good, way beyond wonderful. Could she do the same to him? She had to try. She reached for his belt buckle and fumbled with it. He tried to help her out, but he couldn't do much better. "What's wrong with us?" Robyn sat up to get a better angle on it. Their fingers tangled as they struggled with it. "Got it." Chris kissed her. Then they heard the doorknob turn. "The hell?"
