The Hot Spot Page 8

  Kaleb just shook his head at her.

  He said nothing else about it, but Zaria had the feeling that she had disappointed him.

  Still, me on a ranch?

  Nearly two weeks later, Kaleb jogged up the steps of Zaria’s porch, careful not to slip as droplets of the earlier rain remained. He straightened the tailored navy blue blazer he wore over a crisp white shirt and distressed jeans. He straightened his shoulders and took a breath just before he rang the bell. It seemed like more than two weeks since their last weekend shared together. Zaria had had to work the past two weekends, and Kaleb had busied himself with the farm and his family.

  After weeks of calling each other and continuing to get to know each other, he was looking forward to spending a night away from his busy farm and in the company of a woman. But not just any woman. Zaria.

  And unlike their usual weekend rendezvous indoors, he had insisted that they leave the house and take a small break from constant sex. He had to see if there was more than the physical between them.

  The door opened and he gave himself one last straighten of his blazer sleeves. He looked up from arranging his stainless-steel black-faced watch, his eyes widening in surprise.

  Zaria wore a skintight fuchsia strapless dress that did little to hide that she was braless—and that the cool weather had hardened her nipples. As his eyes skimmed down her body, he thought he saw the slight indent of her G-string against her hip.

  The outfit was bold. Sexy. Daring.

  And completely inappropriate.

  And too much.

  Zaria smiled at him as she leaned over to pick up an oversized gold bag with lots of brassy buckles. “You look good, Kaleb,” she said, stepping outside and closing the front door behind herself.

  He stalled, placing a hand to her lower back as he leaned to kiss her cheek. “Um . . . you look good too,” he said, deciding against asking her to change into something a little less in-your-face.

  “I bought this today and couldn’t wait to show it off to you,” she said, slowly turning to model the dress for him.

  There was no doubt she had the curvaceous hourglass shape that epitomized the healthy figure men loved about a black woman. And he enjoyed the sight of her firm buttocks and full breasts outlined against the spandexlike material. But damn . . .

  Kaleb wiped his mouth, fighting the urge to at least convince her to grab a shawl. Zaria was a grown woman—and not even officially his woman. He knew he had no right to guide her choices.

  “I think I might be getting a little attached to having you here,” she said as they descended the stairs, his hand lightly at the small of her back.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing you outside this house,” he said, stepping forward to open the car door for her. “Let’s see just what this thing is between us.”

  “But we know what it is,” Zaria said.

  “We do?”

  Zaria cut her eyes up at him and pressed her hand to his chest. “Chemistry,” she said.

  Kaleb locked his eyes on her glossy mouth and then her eyes. That familiar current was palpable between them. “Chemistry,” he repeated.

  He was a man who paid attention to women. Their likes and dislikes. Their wants and desires. Their actions and reactions. As he stood there looking down at Zaria’s eyes, he knew she wanted him. He knew he could say to hell with dinner and have her in bed. But he wanted to know there was more available from her than just sex.

  He lowered his head as he cupped her face. The feel of her lips was like water quenching thirst. He vaguely wished the gloss wasn’t in such abundance, but the feel of her tongue stroking his mouth was his total undoing. With a moan deep in his soul, he turned her body and shifted her around until she was pressed against the rear door of the SUV he rarely drove. His hands moved down to her waist and even farther down to her thigh to grab the hem of her dress and jerk it up roughly.

  Zaria gasped, breaking their kiss as she tilted her head back and exposed her neck.

  The sound of her sighs was fuel to his desire. Kaleb bent his knees to lightly flick his tongue against the base of her neck before he licked a slow and sensual trail up to her chin. He retraced the heated path as he grasped the top of her dress and snatched it down to her waist. The last rays of light from the fading sun highlighted the brown tips of her hard nipples as he dipped his silver-flecked head to take one deeply into his mouth. The feel of her body’s shiver against his sent blood rushing to his loins until he was hard and long and ready.

  “I have a helluva grill and a couple of rib eye steaks in the freezer,” she whispered into the night summer air as she rubbed both of her hands against the back of his head.

  Kaleb paused, his mouth still pressed to a soft breast as his mind worked quickly.

  Is sex all she wants from me?

  It is good sex, though.

  But I’m looking for a wife, not a lover.

  But it is good sex.

  He thought of how he’d invited her to his farm and how she’d brushed the invite off like dust on her shoulder. His farm was a part of him—an important part—and she had no interest in it. Kaleb backed away, standing up to his full height, holding up his hands as if he were being stopped by the police. “Whooooo,” he said, like he was trying to release pressure through a valve. “I can’t think straight around you, Zaria.”

  She pulled her top back up to cover her breasts. “Looks like your mind’s not the only thing that’s not straight,” she said, looking pointedly at his erection pressing against his zipper.

  Kaleb dropped his hands to try and cover himself. “So I’m wrong to want to get to know you better?”

  “And we can’t do that here?” she asked, waving her hand back at her home, then using her fingertips to wipe away the remnants of lip gloss smeared around her mouth.

  “So you don’t want to go to dinner?” he asked.

  “I was hoping everything this dress is saying would make you forget about dinner.” Zaria turned, making sure to emphasize her jiggle and wiggle.

  Kaleb felt his dick harden in a rush, and it lightly brushed against the palm of his hand as it grew.

  “Let me cook dinner for you, Kaleb,” she said simply.

  “Just dinner?” he said, hating that he sounded wary and afraid of being alone with her.

  “And dessert . . . maybe something with cherries,” she said, already turning to walk back up the stairs to her house.

  Kaleb slid his hands into her pockets as he watched the up and down movement of her buttocks in her dress. Zaria unlocked the front door and stood just long enough in the doorway to crook her finger to beckon him.

  His intention tonight was to see if there could be more between them than just great sexual chemistry. He had been looking forward to taking her to one of his favorite downtown Charleston restaurants, but with her racy outfit and her eagerness to do anything but have dinner, Kaleb headed inside the house. He shut the front door just as Zaria walked out of her bedroom barefoot and dressed in nothing but a short white T-shirt and a pair of low-slung bikinis.

  He didn’t miss the sly smile on her face as she walked past him to take the hall leading into the kitchen. He bit his bottom lip as he shook his head. She knew damn well what she was doing and was enjoying the teasing.

  “You want something to drink?” she called from the kitchen.

  In that moment, he wanted to bend her over the sink and pull her panties down just enough to slide his hardness deep inside of her. “Uh, no . . . nothing for me,” he said, deciding not to play with the heat in the kitchen and heading for the living room to take a seat.

  There was a photo album open on the coffee table, and Kaleb looked down at the pictures upon pictures of two identical girls from infancy to young adulthood. In many of them there were pictures of Zaria. Even though the twins aged, Zaria barely looked any different. Is that her? he wondered, leaning to peer closer at the photo.

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as Zaria entered th
e living room and came to sit beside him, holding a goblet of wine in her hand.

  “The steaks are thawing and some corn on the cob is boiling,” she said, tucking her feet beneath her carefully.

  “Comfortable?” he asked, sitting back against the couch.

  “Yes, thank you,” she said, tilting her head to the side to watch him as she sipped her wine. “You?”

  He nodded. “I’m good,” he said, rubbing his chin before he unbuttoned his blazer.

  “You’re scared,” she countered, dragging her fingertip around the rim of the goblet.

  Kaleb frowned, his high brows deepening. “Of?” Zaria leaned over to set her goblet on the coffee table and then untucked her feet to crawl on her hands and knees the short distance across the couch to him. She straddled his lap and rose up on her knees. “All of this,” she said, motioning up and down her body.

  Kaleb placed his hands on her soft thighs and then eased them up to settle on her hips. He leaned his head back against the couch, taking in the way her breasts were firm and high with her nipples hard and pressing against the thin material. Her plump mound was pressed against her bikini and tempting him, making him forget his plans for the evening. His plans for them. “Why would I be afraid when I know exactly what to do to all of this?” he asked, shifting his hand across to ease inside her bikini and stroke the warm and moist folds.

  She gasped and thrust her hips forward as she moaned.

  “Humph,” he grunted in both pleasure and satisfaction as his eyes locked on to her face. He stroked her clit with his thumb and eased his index finger inside of her core.

  Zaria raised her hands above her head and began to slowly circle her hips as she made love to his finger.

  Kaleb awkwardly used his left hand to unbuckle his belt and then free his heated erection from his pants and boxers. He massaged the length of it as he eased his finger out just long enough to ease in two fingers.

  He loved how uninhibited Zaria was as she continued to work her hips back and forth, causing her rigid walls to slide up and down his thick fingers.

  She sighed as she reached for the edges of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head, her soft breasts lightly dropping back down against her chest. Her areolas were so deeply brown and round that his mouth watered to taste both.

  He didn’t fight the need.

  Kaleb dipped his head and suckled her breasts into his mouth until it was full.

  Zaria shivered and thrust her hips harder as she brought up a hand to massage and tease her own nipple.

  Kaleb was just thinking about the condoms in his wallet when the front door opened and the sound of female voices mingled with their moans of pleasures. His eyes opened wide as he felt Zaria stiffen against him.

  “Mama!” voices screeched.

  Zaria covered her breasts with her arms as she fell off of Kaleb’s lap, hit the couch, and then rolled onto the floor like a stuntwoman.

  Mama!

  “Seriously, Mama!”

  “At least this one’s her age,” another feminine voice said.

  “Or older with all that gray hair.”

  Kaleb’s ego and erection deflated like air had been let out of a balloon. He watched as Zaria snatched up her T-shirt and pulled it over her head and jumped to her feet.

  Unfortunately, the shirt was on backward. “Go to your rooms and I’ll be in there in a sec,” Zaria said, trying to sound firm and look anything but crazy in her low-cut bikinis and awkwardly worn T-shirt that looked completely crazy.

  Kaleb finished zipping away his flaccid manhood before standing up to face their unexpected audience. He didn’t shy away from much easily, but seeing the full-grown twins from the photos standing there looking less than pleased shocked him. They looked to be in their early twenties. Zaria was their mother?

  The one with her ebony hair in a ponytail threw her hands up into the air like she was in church and really feeling the spirit. “Lawd, he’s young too?” she wailed comically.

  The one with her hair cut into a bob crossed her slender arms over her chest. “Mama, you need to get it together,” she said.

  “Okay, enough,” Zaria snapped, her voice hard and loud.

  “These are your daughters?” Kaleb said, turning to look at her as if she were an alien as he pointed at the angry twins.

  “Yes, Kaleb, these are my daughters, Meena and Neema.”

  He looked back at them, and they both gave him a nod and a glare.

  “Excuse me,” Zaria said, easing past him to hurry into her bedroom.

  “You do know she’s forty-two, right?” Meena asked, her tone very “so there.”

  No, he didn’t know that. He visualized her body, that face, her style . . . the dress she’d worn earlier. Those were not the things a fortysomething woman wore . . . or did . . . or showcased.

  The twins still eyed him, and he was proud that he kept on his poker face.

  “Okay, enough staring and glaring, ladies,” Zaria said sternly as she walked back into the living room dressed in a velour sweat suit. She placed her hands on the small of their backs and gently pushed them out of the living room.

  Kaleb watched Zaria the entire time. Even in her sweat suit, there was no denying the curves of her body and the sexiness of her appeal. He understood that forty was the new thirty but . . . “Damn, Zaria, you’re forty-two?” he asked.

  She nodded and shrugged. “Yes,” she said simply. “Problem?”

  He said nothing because he honestly didn’t know if it was a problem. The only thing he knew for sure was it shocked the shit out of him. “I honestly thought you were my age,” he admitted, hoping the distraction worked.

  Zaria placed her hands on her hips and pretended to model for him. “I know for a fact that I look better than a lot of young chickies your age—including my ex-husband’s wife,” she said.

  Kaleb looked behind him before he leaned against the back of the couch, his hands pushed into his pockets. “Are you over your ex?” he asked, thinking of the man dropping by her house without calling and then Zaria taking pleasure in insulting him. He was surprised at how the thought of that made him feel some kind of way.

  Zaria froze and frowned at him. “I was over him the day he left me,” she said, her eyes flashing with anger.

  Kaleb saw that emotion clearly, and although a hundred more questions filled his head, he decided to just nod in understanding. “His loss,” he said, meaning it.

  “I can find good in the breakup because I found all of these things about myself that I wouldn’t have if I’d stayed married to him,” she said honestly. “I was all about being a wife and a mother and never put time into being a woman. In just being Zaria.”

  Kaleb squinted. “That’s important,” he said, decidedly guarded. His thoughts were racing even if his face didn’t show it. Zaria’s words were sinking in and giving him pause. A wife and a mother was exactly what he was looking for.

  “Just doing me for once,” Zaria said, doing a booty pop dance with a smile on her face.

  Kaleb couldn’t help but genuinely smile back at her. He gave in to the urge to wrap one arm around her waist and pull her body close to his.

  Her hands landed on his shoulders and she leaned in toward him with a soft smile. “I’m sorry my daughters ruined our evening,” she murmured against his mouth before kissing both corners of his mouth.

  “I think we should take a rain check on dinner,” Kaleb said, allowing his hands to lightly cup her buttocks.

  “And dessert,” she reminded him.

  Kaleb made a face. “Dessert?”

  Zaria nodded. “Cherries Jubilee,” she whispered in his ear before biting his earlobe.

  He enjoyed the shiver that raced over his body. “Never had it,” he admitted.

  Zaria leaned back and nodded as she bit her bottom lip. “Oh, you’ve had my cherry,” she teased. “And it made you very jubilant.”

  Kaleb chucked as he nuzzled his face against her neck and got lost in her smell. Suddenly,
he was both reluctant to leave her and anxious as hell to get away and think.

  CHAPTER 7

  Zaria closed the front door as Kaleb reversed his vehicle out of her yard and onto the main road. She had barely taken a deep breath when the twins’ bedroom doors opened and they marched in like soldiers going to war. Zaria placed one hand on her hip and held the other up to them. “I’m not in the mood, ladies,” she said, turning to head down the hall to the kitchen.

  “How old is this one, Mama?” Meena asked.

  Zaria knew it was Meena and not Neema because Meena’s voice was slightly raspy, like a Jazz singer. “He’s legal,” she said, sliding the frozen steaks back into her deep freezer in the pantry across the room.

  “That’s not funny at all,” Neema said.

  Zaria recognized the slight lisp of her youngest twin daughter as she left the pantry and closed the door securely. “Listen, girls, I’m the mother and you’re my children and guess what, I’ve raised you both. I don’t call and aggravate you or snoop in your business or interfere like most mothers. I let you live your lives, so let me live mine.” She paused when she saw them share a long look. “What?” she asked, moving over to the stove.

  “Nothing,” they said in unison.

  “Should you really have men here?” Neema asked. Zaria arched a brow. “Here is where I live,” she countered.

  “So did Daddy,” Meena said, taking a small step back in her sneakers like she thought her mother just might come at her.

  Zaria hated that she felt offended by their concern for their father. “Did is the operative word—and by his own choosing, thank you very much.”

  “You’re both having a midlife crisis,” Neema muttered, bouncing over to the fridge to pull out a personal jar of fruit punch.

  Zaria cut her deep-set eyes from one to the other. “Stop worrying and fussing about me and your dad. I promise you that we’re both just fine, girls. Okay?”

  They both shrugged their slender shoulders. “I was going to make steaks later when they defrosted, but what if I grill some turkey burgers to go with the corn on the cob?” she asked.