“How about a shower?”
“Alone or with you?” Tempest asked, pondering over whether it was too soon to get jiggy with him. She craved him in the worst way.
“Whichever you prefer.”
Damn, no, he didn’t go there, Tempest thought to herself. Leaving it up to me, so I can be the one who looks like a straight-up hoe. “I don’t have any other clothes.”
“You can wear my bathrobe or one of my big T-shirts while I wash yours right quick.” Geren bit his bottom lip, hoping Tempest would invite him to join her but not holding his breath. She just didn’t seem the type, which was good and bad. Good because it meant she wasn’t giving it up easily to any Jamal, Raymond, or Mohammed. Bad because he really wanted to lick her all over and feel her from the inside.
“I dunno about all this.”
“What’s wrong? You don’t trust me?” Geren asked innocently.
“Should I?”
“Undoubtedly.”
Tempest scrutinized her recycled virginhood a little while longer before stating, “Well, okay then. I would like to take a shower, alone.”
“Cool!” Geren replied, highly disappointed. He watched her get up off the sofa and head to the bathroom down the hall. Damn, how did she get all of that junk in her trunk? She’s finer than frog’s hair. “I’ll order some food to be delivered, since we never had that lunch.”
“Wanna go dutch?” Tempest asked sarcastically, recalling their earlier conversation in his office.
“Gurl, get on in there,” Geren chided, picking up the handset of his phone to call the soul food restaurant down the street. “There are plenty towels in the linen closet, and my robe is hanging on the back of the door.”
• • •
“That feels absolutely fantastic!” Tempest squealed at the top of her lungs.
They were sitting out on Geren’s sun deck. It had a fantastic view of the Potomac River, and the lights were just coming on throughout the city at early dusk. Tempest still had on Geren’s thick, cotton robe and was stuffed to the brim with baby back ribs, collard greens, and potato salad. Geren was stunned by how much food Tempest had put away. He was just glad he’d ordered extra. He had planned on saving it for his Sunday dinner, but Tempest emptied all of the Styrofoam containers.
“That’s it! That’s the spot!” Tempest exclaimed.
Geren was washing her hair for her on his deck. He had her leaning back, and he was giving her a sensual shampoo with honeysuckle-scented shampoo and a pitcher of lukewarm water. Tempest had often dreamed of a man washing her hair, but it never happened. She also wanted a man to wash her feet in a river, like Allen Payne did to Jada Pinkett Smith in Jason’s Lyric. Geren was scoring mad brownie points.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Geren said, as he tenderly caressed her scalp. This was a new one for him, too, but he was enjoying every minute of it.
“Oh, yeah! Harder! Harder!” Tempest yelled, blushing when she realized how sexual it sounded.
Geren got a hard-on that could split bricks, wondering if she yelled out like that in the bed.
He worked on her hair for a good hour, going back and forth into the house to get more water. On his fifty-eleventh trip, he returned to find Tempest fast asleep and snoring lightly in the deck chair. He picked her up and carried her inside, placing her gently on his bed. He sat down beside her and stared at her while she took sporadic breaths. He had never been so infatuated with a woman before in his entire life. Maybe she was the one.
He debated about opening up the robe and taking a peek but decided against it. When and if Tempest wanted him to see her body, he wanted her to willingly show him everything.
He got up off the bed and walked out into the hall, leaving the door slightly ajar. He went to go check on the clothes in the dryer and fell asleep on the sofa while listening to “International Lover” on repeat and fantasizing about Tempest.
• • •
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Tempest awoke the next morning to find Geren standing over her.
She was totally embarrassed for falling asleep like that while he was washing her hair. Then again, if his fingertips were so powerful, she could only imagine the potency of his dick.
She glanced over on his dresser and spotted a tray packed full of goodies: croissants with butter, scrambled eggs, and smoked sausage. It smelled delightful. “Oh, my, you cook, too? You’re just full of surprises.”
Geren laughed. He had felt compelled to cook after the way she tore up the food the night before. He didn’t want her to wake up starving. “The best are yet to come,” he replied, rubbing his fingers through her slightly damp hair. “You want me to blow it dry for you?”
Tempest blushed. “You keep this up, and I might just fall helplessly in love with you.”