Lust. || BEYNIKA

L|Chapter SEVENTEEN.

Onika Cookie Maraj.

"CHICKEN, I need your help."

Icy shock moves through my veins at the first sound of Beyoncé's familiar, deep and sexy-as-hell voice. The very last person I expected to call me at my office on an early Wednesday afternoon-and just how did she get my work number anyway?

Duh, your brother.

Freaking Caiah.

"No, 'Hello, Onika, how's it going?' And I really, really wish you wouldn't call me chicken." I'm trying to joke. Or more like trying to figure out if she really does need my help. I mean, come on. Like hearing from her out of nowhere nearly a month later, after what happened between us, is no big deal.

It's such a big deal.

"So nice to hear from you, Beyoncé. What's it been, a couple days?" Almost twenty-five days, not that I'm keeping count.

"Very fucking funny, Onika. I'm not kidding," she growls irritably. "I need your help, and I needed it yesterday."

"And you're calling me? Why? How exactly can I help you?" Wow, I sound remarkably cool and calm, but deep within my insides are trembling. And for whatever crazy reason, my nipples are hard. All from her gruff, commanding tone. So ridiculous, but it's like the second I hear her voice, my body reacts. I haven't been able to get that night out of my mind. Images of a naked Beyoncé above me, kissing me, buried deep inside me are burned on my brain.

"You're still single, right?" she asks, knocking me from my thoughts.

"How is that any of your business?" My heart lodges in my throat. As if she would care. "And who told you that?" Fine. I so am. I haven't talked to Rahmeek, the jerk, since I broke it off with him. And I haven't talked to any other guy either, let alone gone out on a date since my night with Beyoncé .

Has she somehow ruined me forever? God, I hope not. I'm only twenty-four. I don't want to die a shriveled up old lady pining for a woman who had sex with me once and then walked away.

"Caiah told me."

I'm going to kill my brother. "Why do you care if I'm single or not?"

"I have a proposition for you." She pauses and my heart falls into my stomach with hope. "A business proposition."

Of course. Not that I expected a sexual one. Hello, been down that road once before and look where it got me? A lot of lonely, achy nights waking up after sweaty, too-graphic dreams involving me and her naked. "What sort of business proposition could you possibly have for me?"