Hollington Homecoming, Volume Two. Pamela Yaye

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СКАЧАТЬ his hands on her breasts and the rush of pleasure to her core when he plunged deep inside her slick walls.

      “You feel the same way, Kyra, don’t you?”

      Embarrassed that she’d been swept away by her thoughts, she smoothed a hand over her flushed cheeks. Not wanting Charles to know she’d been fantasizing about another man, she nodded in response to his question and choked down so much water, she felt the button on her skirt pop off.

      “I want us to be exclusive,” Charles confessed, his awestruck tone teetering on desperation. Eyes glittering like diamonds, he took her hand and caressed her palm. “I think we’re good together, don’t you?”

      Her shoulders tensed. It was too soon in their relationship to make grandiose declarations. Charles traveled a lot for his company, and Kyra was lucky if they saw each other once a week. Furthermore, she considered him more of a friend than a potential lover. “I’m really glad we exchanged numbers,” she said, unsure of what else to say. “It’s nice having someone to hang out with on the—”

      “Hold that thought.” He swiped his cell off the table, pressed it to his ear and chirped, “Charles Roberts. Talk to me.”

      Kyra stared at him, hoping her furrowed brows conveyed her disapproval. Talking on his cell phone at the table was her biggest pet peeve and they’d discussed it at length last week. Now he was back at it.

      “Here we go,” the waiter announced, pulling up beside the table and setting down two enormous plates. After refilling her glass, he left.

      “I’m sorry about that,” Charles said when he finally ended his call, “but I’m in the middle of a monster business deal.”

      Not wanting to ruin their lunch, she accepted his apology. “It’s all right. I understand. Everyone gets a bit crazy when—”

      His utensils fell on his plate with a clank, startling her.

      “My food is cold.” Charles spit into his napkin. Rising from his chair, his gaze darted maniacally around the room. “Where is that stupid waiter?”

      Having worked as a waitress to put herself through school, Kyra had zero tolerance for rudeness and told him so. “Charles,” she began, refusing to be embarrassed in front of the other well-dressed patrons, “your food is cold because you were on your cell phone for ten minutes. What did you expect the server to do?”

      The waiter returned. “How is everything tasting?”

      “I’d like another steak.” Charles pushed his plate forward. “This one’s cold.”

      With a curt nod, the young man was off and running back into the kitchen.

      “Charles, that was unnecessary—”

      “It’s my accountant.” Phone pressed to his ear, he stood and stalked through the dining room. Kyra watched him walk away. Charles was acting like a petulant child, and she wasn’t going to let him get away with humiliating her. He had to learn to treat her—and everyone around him—with more respect. His behavior was something she’d expect from an actor. Or a rapper. Or a buff, wickedly handsome NFL running back.

      Sighing, she glanced out the window, unwanted memories rolling through her mind. Ten years ago, she’d met Terrence on the Hollington College campus, and as she thought about that first meeting, a smile filled her lips. Rushing toward the fine arts building, she’d rolled her ankle and narrowly missed wiping out in front of Terrence. Kyra had seen the star running back around campus, but they’d never talked before. So when he ditched his friends and commanded her to hop on his back, she’d been stunned.

      Five minutes later, she was climbing aboard the T-train, as he’d teasingly called it. Arms swathed around his neck, legs wrapped at his waist, he’d carried her to the north building and returned at the end of her African dance class with a pair of pink jelly shoes. To show her appreciation, she’d treated the handsome footballer to lunch.

      Terrence was the big man on campus and she was a bookworm, but they’d hit it off immediately. Then one night after they’d had too much to drink they’d ended up back in his dorm room. One thing led to another and the next thing Kyra knew, she was down to her panties, pulsing with a tangible mix of desire, passion and lust. Terrence was her first, and though they’d stumbled in the dark, knocking things over and laughing hysterically at their inanity, she’d counted it as one of the happiest moments of her life.

      Within weeks, they were inseparable. They ran with the same crowd, had the same friends and made plans to get married after the NFL draft. “Once things settle down and I finish training camp,” he’d promised. Things never did settle down and that magical day she’d always dreamed of never happened. Pressured by his manager to maintain his cool, single guy image, Terrence had broken off their engagement via email, never to be heard from again. Until now.

      Why, after all these years, was she rehashing the past? Seeing Terrence again had stirred something in her. Something that had died the day she’d read that email message. Over the years, Kyra had dated some great guys. Powerful, accomplished men who knew how to treat a woman right. But Terrence stood out in her mind for several reasons. Though he’d been a struggling college student, with a rusted white hooptie and staggering debt, he’d spoiled her silly. He brought her breakfast in bed, walked her to and from class and made love to her with unspeakable warmth and tenderness. Humility had never been his strong suit, but he was chivalrous and respectful of her feelings.

      “Ms., I brought a new steak entrée.”

      Kyra came to. Oh brother. Not this again. Squinting, as if blinded by the angry glare of headlights, she searched the waiting area for Charles. Where was he? Deciding she’d had enough of Charles and his rudeness for one day, she opened her purse, tipped the waiter and rose from her seat. “Thanks, Miguel. Everything was great.”

      He looked confused. “You’re leaving? What should I tell the gentleman when he comes back?”

      “I don’t know,” she sassed, winking mischievously. “Be creative!”

      Chapter 3

      “Good morning, Kyra Dixon speaking.”

      “Just the voice I wanted to hear.”

      Her heart turned to wax. Terrence was more persuasive than a door-to-door salesman, but if she was going to survive the next eight weeks with him, she had to keep her guard up. “It’s good to hear from you,” she lied, with forced enthusiasm. Swallowing a yawn, Kyra flipped open her daily planner and scanned her list of appointments for the day. “I’m glad you called. I was going to contact you this afternoon.”

      “You were?” The inflection of his voice conveyed surprise. “When I didn’t hear from you, I thought maybe you’d forgotten about me.”

      I wish, she thought, remembering last night’s restless bout of sleep. Faded memories of her youth had filled her with nostalgia, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw Terrence, his mouth stretched into that cocky, lopsided grin, his arms outstretched like a compassionate lover. To distance herself from the troubling image, she asked Terrence how his day was going.

      “I hope you’ve been enjoying this gorgeous weather, because it’s going to start cooling down soon.”

      “Do you remember my cousins Neal СКАЧАТЬ