Let's Get It On (7 page)

It took Maurice about two seconds to run after Kenya and reach the elevator just as the doors began to close. Sticking his foot in the small crack, he forced the doors open.

“Kenya,” he said, “number one, after what happened to you tonight, I'm not letting you roam around this property alone. Secondly, I let you walk out on me one time and didn't do anything about it, and I won't make that mistake again.”

“Don't do this. Just leave me alone,” she said in a voice that was as meek as a mouse. Maurice knew Kenya didn't want him to walk away any more than he wanted to leave. Maybe it was because of what had happened on the beach, or maybe she still had a place for him in her heart.

“You shouldn't be alone tonight. It would make me feel better knowing that you're safe.” He reached out and pushed a strand of hair back from her face. “I'll sleep on the floor, by the door, if you'd like.”

“I don't need you to stay with me. I'll be fine,” she said, smacking his hand away. “Maurice, don't you, for one second, think I'm going to let you worm your way back into my life.”

“After we leave this island, I'm sure we'll never see each other again.”

“I wish that were true,” she mumbled as she turned her back to him.

“What did you say?”

The elevator doors opened, and Kenya exited, with Maurice on her heels. “Kenya,” he called out.

She didn't turn around; she just slid her electronic key into the lock on her door. “I'm moving to Charlotte to start a new job. I didn't want to take it, because I didn't want to see you and your new bride. I'd seen enough of your impending nuptials on TV. Then the Panthers won the Super Bowl, and you were the hero. But I thought about it and decided that I would no longer let you and that tramp control my life. I left school because of you two. I changed careers because . . . Forget it.” She opened the door. “Good night.”

Before Maurice could move, the door slammed in his face. He raised his hand to knock on the door. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her how he'd been thinking about her for the last nine years, and how that day in her dorm room, he'd wanted to stop her from leaving. He'd never been totally happy with Lauryn, not like when they were together, and he knew that their love had been pure. He wanted to tell her that he'd been blinded by sex, that breaking up with her was the manifestation of his father's legacy.

Momma always said that I was more like him than I wanted to believe. I guess she was right. Then came karma,
he thought as he walked away. He heard the creak of a door and turned around quickly. Kenya stood there, cheeks streaked with tears, eyes red and puffy.

“You're right. I don't want to be alone tonight, and even if it's you, I need someone by my side tonight,” she whispered.

Crossing over to her, he reached out and touched her shoulder. “I'll sleep on the floor, by the door, if you'd like.”

Shaking her head, she said, “You can sleep on the sofa. I think it pulls out into a bed.”

Fighting the smile that was tickling his lips, Maurice followed Kenya into her room. Even on vacation she was still meticulous. Everything was in its place. Her clothes hung in the closet, in plastic dry-cleaners covers. Various styles of sexy sandals lined the closet floor. Maurice was digging the red, strappy sandals with the three-inch heels. Her suitcases were stacked neatly in the corner, and her laptop computer was closed on the desk. He was sure that the housekeepers didn't mind cleaning up this room. There wasn't a scrap of paper on the floor.

“Are there any extra sheets or blankets?” he asked as Kenya passed him en route to the bathroom, with her bedclothes in her hands.

“Uh, I don't know,” she said. “Check in the bottom drawer. If there aren't any there, we may need to call housekeeping.”

“All right,” he said as he watched her disappear behind the white oak door. Maurice wanted to be in that bathroom, running her bathwater, slowly stripping her dress from her and massaging her shoulders with bath oil. He'd wash her hair, sensuously stroking her scalp and easing the tension with his touch. Then, in true Maurice fashion, he'd ease into the tub behind her, taking the soap from her hands and run it between her breasts, working up a thick lather. And before he would massage the soap into her skin in a sexual manner, he'd ask her if it was okay. She'd already been nearly violated, and he wouldn't want to add to the trauma. If he was given the green light, he'd play with her nipples until they harden like brown diamonds, waiting for the kiss of his lips.

His eyes were closed, and he was fully engrossed in his fantasy, when he heard Kenya call his name. His response was, “Yes, baby.”

“Maurice!”

Opening his eyes, he saw her standing there, with an oversized terry-cloth robe wrapped tightly around her body, hiding every inch of what he was dying to see, touch, feel, and taste. “Oh, I, uh . . . What's up?” he asked, his face flushed with embarrassment.

“I don't even want to know what was going on in that head of yours. Did you find the blankets?” she asked, stepping back from him.

“No, I'll be fine, though. It's warm in here.” Actually, he was hot, burning with a desire that he'd never felt with Lauryn. The love he'd had for Kenya all of those years ago had been inside of him, like a smoldering ember, and just a few hours in her presence had turned that nugget into a towering inferno.
Why did I let you walk out of my life for Lauryn? Why does it take years and distance for people to see clearly?
he thought as he watched Kenya climb into bed and pull the covers up to her chin.

“Do you want me to turn the air-conditioning down?” he asked as she rolled herself up in the blanket.

“I'm fine,” she said. “I can't sleep if I'm not warm.”

“Are you sure you want to go to sleep so early? It's not even nine yet. Why don't we—”

“You can do whatever you want as long as you leave me alone,” she snapped. “I just need some quiet time.”

Maurice walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, forcing Kenya to look at him. “Do you want to talk about what happened earlier?”

“Who are you, Dr. Phil? What part of quiet time don't you get?” she said angrily.

“You asked me to stay for a reason, and I don't think it was because you wanted to ignore me and give me attitude all night.”

Kicking out of the covers, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, away from Maurice, and dropped her head in her hands. Though he couldn't see her face, the shaking of her shoulders alerted him to the fact that she was sobbing. Over the years that he'd known her, Maurice had never seen Kenya cry. She was always so strong, so in control of her emotions. To see her this way made his heart lurch.
Did I ever make you cry?
he wondered as he timidly reached out to her, pulling her into his arms.

“I don't want your pity,” she whispered. “I've never wanted your pity, and if you're here to ease your guilt about what happened between us, you can leave. I'll be fine.”

“I could never pity you, Kenya. I've always admired you, and knowing who you've become, pity is the last thing I feel for you.”

Turning and looking at him with puffy red eyes, Kenya went from sad to angry in less than three seconds. “What you feel for me? You're full of it. If you feel anything, it's the embarrassment of getting dumped at the altar. Am I supposed to sympathize with you because you know what it feels like to have your heart trampled on? You got what you deserved.”

“Kenya, I-I . . .”

“Sorry. I'm sorry. I don't have the right to lash out at you. I asked you to stay with me, and this isn't right.”

“We need to settle this,” he said, wiping a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “If we're going to be living in the same city, we could at least be friends. Charlotte's big, but chances are we're going to run into each other.”

“Friends?” she asked, her words dripping with sarcasm, like an overturned bottle of honey.

“Are you saying we can't be friends?” he asked, his heart tingling, thinking that after they returned to the States, they would go back to being adversaries. Would she forget the time that they'd spent together?

“Maurice, we'll be civil, but I doubt we'll ever be friends again.” She pushed out of his embrace. “I mean, why would we be? We're adults now, and it doesn't matter if you invite me to your parties or introduce me to your other friends. This isn't high school or college. You have your life. I have mine. No need for them to intersect.”

Maurice shook his head, because he wanted their lives to do more than intersect. He wanted her to be a fixture in his life, and he wanted to be a fixture in hers. He wanted to help her pick out a house in Charlotte and drive her to the furniture market in Hickory so that she could find the right furnishings for her house. He wanted her to leave a toothbrush in his bathroom and argue with him because he never had her favorite brand of juice when she spent the night.

“Kenya.” He cupped her face in his hands and brought her lips level with his. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to taste the sweetness of her lips, feel the pinch of her nails on his skin as they made love for the first time in nearly a decade. He thought she would have wiggled away by now. But for what seemed like hours, they sat there, staring into each other's eyes. Her hands were firmly planted on the bed, as if she didn't want to touch him, though he wanted to feel her touch as much as he needed his next breath.

Finally, she pushed his hands away, as if she'd realized who was holding her. “I'm hungry,” she said.

“So am I,” he said. Unable to control his impulse to kiss her, he captured her lips and devoured them. To his surprise, Kenya melted against his body, and her tongue sought to overpower his.

Immediately, she pulled back, leapt from the bed, and walked over to the window. “I can't do this. I refuse to fall for you again.”

“I'm different.”

“You're the same.”

“Kenya, trust me. I've seen the error of my ways. I know that I was wrong in college, and that it's going to take time for us to—”

“For us to what? There's no way that anything will ever happen between us again. The most you can ever hope for is that I'll call you my friend, and that's not likely.”

Maurice crossed over to her, standing a few inches from her. “Then why do you keep kissing me? The Kenya that I knew and loved didn't do anything that she didn't want to do.”

Turning her head to the side, she said, “Kissing is just like a handshake. It means nothing. I thought you wanted something to eat.”

“I do.” He stroked her hand. “I just don't think it's on the room-service menu.”

Pushing him in the chest, Kenya said, “You're disgusting.”

He watched her as she walked over to the bed, holding her robe tightly. She reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out the room-service menu.

“What food do you have a taste for?” she asked, looking up at him.

The only things Maurice had a taste for were her lips, her nipples, and the wetness between her legs. He wanted to pull that bulky robe from her body and see what she had on underneath. “Anything is fine,” he replied, never taking his eyes off her.

Maurice listened as Kenya ordered chicken wings, carrot sticks, and rum punch. He didn't know if he'd be able to watch her eat, her lips closing around the chicken and arousing him in ways that only she could.
How am I going to convince her that I'd never do anything to hurt her again? How can I get you back into my life?

 

 

As Kenya spoke to room service, she'd never been more aware of her sexual desire. If Maurice had kissed her one more time, she would have ripped her clothes off and let him make love to her. It seemed as if the incident on the beach was a distant nightmare now that Maurice was in her midst. She'd done what she'd sworn not to do: she'd fallen for him all over again. Tonight he was her knight in shining armor. But what would he be in the morning? If she allowed him to make love to her, would she be inviting trouble into her heart again? What if things weren't over with Lauryn, and what if he cheated again?

Don't do this to yourself,
she thought as she hung up the phone. Turning to Maurice, she tried to keep her face expressionless. “The food should be here in about forty-five minutes.”

“Okay. Then that gives us time to talk.”

Rolling her eyes and stretching out on the bed, she said “What's left to say?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he sat down beside her. “A lot. Nothing. Kenya, if we can only be friends, then I'd be fine with that.”

“Good. Then I'd be willing to try and be your friend. But it's going to be hard, because I'm usually friends with people I trust.”

Placing his hand over his heart, Maurice impersonated Fred Sanford. “That hurt.”

“You want to compare hurt? Or do you want to move on?” She rolled her eyes at him.
If I stay angry, then I won't have to deal with everything else I'm feeling right now,
she thought.
Why does he have to look at me like he can see through me?
Kenya turned away from Maurice's powerful stare.

“We can move on. I'm glad we cleared up some of this stuff between us.”

Nothing was clear, except the fact that Kenya knew moving to Charlotte meant moving Maurice back into her life and her heart. Could she handle that?

The next morning, Kenya woke up in Maurice's arms. His hands were underneath her robe and around her waist. How did this happen?
Rum punch.

Slowly, she sat up, inching out of his embrace. She still had her panties on, but her pajama pants lay twisted on the floor. The matching tank top still covered her torso, but her bra was missing.

The events of the previous night were fuzzy, to say the least. But what she could remember was the room-service waiter walking in with a pitcher of rum punch. She'd immediately reached for it, needing a drink to take the edge off. Just being around Maurice had her senses frazzled, and add to that the attack on the beach, and the alcohol was welcomed. She'd polished off two cups before Maurice had even opened the plate containing the wings.

“Don't you think you need to eat something?” he'd said as she poured herself a third cup.

“I can handle it,” she'd replied as he took off her robe. The temperature in the room had seemed to jump up one hundred degrees when Maurice had taken off his T-shirt. His rippled chest had looked more delicious than the food before her.

“Not if memory serves me correctly. You've never been much of a drinker.” Maurice had poured himself a cup of punch and taken a slow sip. “Strong, but sweet.”

She'd watched his lips, and despite herself she'd wanted to taste them again. His kisses were like the drink he'd described, strong and sweet. Had the room been spinning?

“It's hot,” she'd said. Then she'd accepted the saucer of wings that Maurice held out to her. The smell of the hot sauce had swirled around her nostrils and made her stomach bubble. Seconds later, she'd been vomiting all over herself.

“Oh, damn,” Maurice had exclaimed as he rushed over to her, helping her to her feet. “I thought you could handle it.”

“Shut up.” Kenya had hobbled into the bathroom, trying to clean the vomit from her pants, but all she did when she turned the faucet on was totally drench herself. Yanking the pants off, Kenya had thrown them over her shoulder, returned to the bed, and flung herself across it. The pants had fallen to the floor in a heap. She'd moaned as the room began to spin again. “Maurice,” she'd said. “Hold me.”

“You're drunk.”

“I know.”

He'd wrapped his arms around her, and she'd drifted off to sleep, hadn't she?

Through her foggy eyes, Kenya looked over at Maurice as he lounged in the bed. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, making her doubt that all they did last night was sleep. Punching his shoulder, she called out, “Maurice, wake up!”

“Wh-what?” he asked, his voice thick from sleep. “What's wrong?”

“Last night did we?”

Maurice smiled wilily, “Are you telling me that you don't remember what happened last night? I told you not to drink all of that stuff.”

Rolling her eyes and folding her arms across her chest, she replied, “I don't need you telling me what I should've done. Just answer my question.”

He laughed, so Kenya kicked him off the bed. After landing on the floor, Maurice looked up at her and said, “Nothing happened. I'd never take advantage of a drunk woman, no matter how much she was begging me to make her feel good.”

“You are such a liar!” Kenya leaped from the bed.

“There's no way I said anything like that to you. I'm not looking to win an Oscar by acting like I want anything from you.”

Standing and adjusting his pants, Maurice laughed uncontrollably. “How do you know? You were drunk.”

The icy stare Kenya gave him warned of violence if he didn't straighten up. “Kenya, nothing happened, besides you passing out and proving me right. You couldn't hold your liquor, yet you drank that rum punch like it was nonalcoholic fruit punch. I told you not to do that.”

“So you've said already. Give it a rest.” Kenya grasped the edge of the dresser as the room began to spin again. The sun flooding though the windows seemed to split her head open and fry her brain. She felt herself swooning, but before she hit the floor, Maurice's arms closed around her. Now her heart was beating overtime, because being this close to him was more intoxicating than the drinks she had consumed the night before. Why was she allowing herself to fall for him again? Who was she fooling? She'd never gotten over Maurice, and as much as she wanted to hate him, she couldn't. He was the man she'd always loved, because he'd branded her his long ago.

“I'm going to put you to bed and order us some breakfast and a Bloody Mary for you. Then I'm going back to my room to shower and change,” he said as he placed her in the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Are you going to be all right?”

“Maurice, you don't need to take care of me. I overdid it last night on my own. Let me suffer alone,” she mumbled and turned her back to him.

Placing his hand on her back, Maurice forced her to turn around and look at him. “I know what I need to do, and right now I need to make sure that you're going to be up and ready to have dinner with me tonight.”

She raised her eyebrow and shook her head. Dinner with him? Being alone again with Maurice was the last thing she wanted to do. Being alone with him again would allow him to get close to her again. It would allow him to touch her and kiss her, and if the mood was right, then maybe she'd be swayed to make love to him. She'd almost wanted to last night but couldn't. More accurately, she wouldn't. She wouldn't make love to him, because she didn't want to be hurt again.

“I'm in no condition to go anywhere,” she replied. Inching away from him, Kenya nearly fell off the bed. Maurice grabbed her to stop her from going over the edge. “See. I'm off balance.”

“For now. But call me Dr. Mo, because I'm going to take care of you.” Pulling her back to the middle of the bed, Maurice smiled at her. “You're going to let me in when I come back, right?”

“Maybe.”

Maurice flashed her a lopsided grin. “You will, because you're looking forward to spending the evening with me as much as I'm looking forward to being with you.” He kissed her on the forehead, then bounced out the door.

When she was alone, Kenya sat up in the middle of the bed, as if she was the princess who'd found the pea.
What have I gotten myself into?

 

 

If he could have floated on air, that was how Maurice would have gotten downstairs to his room. There was just something about being around Kenya—even though the circumstances weren't ideal—that made him happy. How would his life have been better if he'd left things with Lauryn as they should've been, a one-night stand? Thinking back to the night that he'd been seduced by Lauryn, Maurice realized that he'd been duped.

Kenya had had to study the night of a huge fraternity party, so Maurice had gone out with his crew of teammates.

“Your girl's lame,” David Thomas, an offensive lineman, had said when he and three other football players had piled into Maurice's SUV. “She don't ever come out and hang with you.”

Rico Madison had nodded in agreement as he buckled his seat belt. “I guess she doesn't realize all the honeys that would love to fill her shoes.”

Maurice had dismissed what his buddies had said, but he'd been getting tired of Kenya's attitude, her desire always to stay in or just go to dinner and a movie. Sure college was about studying and getting an education, but they were young. And wasn't it time to have fun?

“I'm just trying to get my party on tonight. Kenya can study all she wants,” he'd replied. Maurice had just gotten news that an NFL scout was impressed by his play in the CIAA league championship game against North Carolina Central University. It was possible that he could be going to play pro ball, and he was overjoyed. Playing football was all he'd wanted to do since he was a little boy. That dream was close to being realized, and all he'd asked his girlfriend to do was share in his exhilaration. But she'd turned him down again. Just like last week, when he'd wanted to blow off classes, get a room downtown, and spend the day making love to her. She'd had to study for her finals. Maurice had been pretty tired of being denied sex from the woman that had been his girlfriend for nearly seven years. He'd have understood it more if Kenya had been some girl he'd just met and if they'd never had sex before.

He'd been horny the moment he walked in the ballroom at the Omni Hotel, and seeing the half-naked girls shaking what their mommas gave them had aroused him, charging him with sexual energy. Then she'd walked over to him. He'd seen Lauryn around campus and at the games, cheering with the Luv-A-Bulls cheerleading squad. She'd had a body that was BET video-girl quality.

“Hey, Mo,” she'd said as she pushed her ample behind into his crotch. If he'd been hard before, he'd become a brick when she gyrated against him.

“What's up, girl?” he'd replied, backing away from her. By the smile on her face, he'd known she'd felt his erection.

“Wanna dance?” she'd asked when a mid-tempo song began to play. Before he'd been able to give her a reply, Lauryn had grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the middle of the floor.

Lauryn had danced so dirty, Maurice had felt as if they'd had sex with their clothes on. Then she'd whispered in his ear that she had a room upstairs and that she'd love to get away from the crowd.

Led by lust, he'd taken her hand in his and left the ballroom. Inside her hotel room, it had seemed as if Lauryn was ready for a guest. She'd had candles surrounding the bed, just waiting to be lit, a bottle of cheap champagne had been resting on ice, and a box of condoms had been on the nightstand.

“Damn,” he'd said after taking in the sight. “Thought of everything, didn't you?”

“Well,” she'd said as she began to snake out of her clothes. “I was hoping you'd be here, because I've been wanting you for a long time.”

Maurice had watched her striptease, with a smile dancing on his lips. Her body had been more amazing than he could have imagined: small waist; round, apple-shaped bottom; and breasts the size of melons. Thoughts of Kenya had floated from his mind the moment Lauryn had pushed him backwards onto the bed and unzipped his oversized jeans with her teeth.

“This is going to be our little secret,” she'd said before taking his erection into her mouth.

After that first encounter, Maurice had been hooked and had sought Lauryn out for more sex. Kenya's studying had become a good thing, because the more time she spent in the library, the more time he spent sexing it up with Lauryn. Somehow, he'd confused love and lust, and when Kenya had walked in on the two of them making love in his dorm room, he had thought that his future was with Lauryn.

That was the biggest mistake of my life. If I knew then what I know now, I would've never gone to that party, and I wouldn't have let Kenya walk out of my life,
Maurice thought as he unlocked the door to his room.

“Where have you been all night?” James asked as soon as Maurice walked in.

Smiling and pulling his shirt over his head, he replied, “With Kenya.”

“No way. I thought she hated you.” James walked over to his brother and shook his head. “What are you two doing? Making up for lost time?”

“Not yet. Something happened to her last night, and she needed my help. But she told me that she's moving to Charlotte.” Maurice flung himself on the bed and kicked back. “I'm going to win her back, J.”

“Do you really think she's going to take you back? That was a pretty hard slap you got earlier. Hate like that isn't easily overcome. Unless you put something on her last night that erased nine years of . . .”

Maurice threw his hand up. “Don't go there. Nothing really happened between us, but I know and have known for a long time that losing Kenya was the biggest mistake of my life. Besides, it's a thin line between love and hate. I don't believe she hates me as much as she wants me to believe.”

“Only took you getting stood up at the altar to figure that one out, huh?” James laughed uncontrollably. “I tried to warn you about that chick, but you didn't listen.”

Maurice rolled his eyes. He'd heard this song and dance before from his mother, his friends, and of course, his brother. So, they were right, but he was tired of hearing it. “I get it. Let's move on. Lauryn wasn't right for me, blah, blah, blah. What's good for a hangover?”

“You got a hangover?”

“Kenya does. I told her I was going to take care of her, and that she was going to have dinner with me tonight,” Maurice said, his mouth upturned in a smile.

James shook his head. “Taking advantage of a woman recovering from a hangover. That's cold. Get her a Bloody Mary and something greasy. She'll be up and at it in no time.”

Maurice sat up; reached for the phone; ordered a breakfast platter of eggs, bacon, and toast; and had it sent to Kenya's room. When he was done, he took a quick shower, dressed, then headed back to Kenya's. Before he left, James called out a warning.

“Don't be surprised if she's planning something to get you back for what you did to her.”

Maurice turned around and looked quizzically at his brother. “Is there a woman out there that you trust?”

“Sometimes I trust Ma.” James threw a pillow at Maurice as he walked out the door.

Heading down the hall, Maurice tried to dismiss what James had said. Kenya wouldn't try do anything to get revenge on him, whether he deserved it or not. She wasn't that kind of person, was she? He didn't know her as an adult, but Kenya had always had class, even when she'd been pushed to her limit. Maurice knew he and Lauryn had pushed her too far with their relationship, and looking back on things, he didn't blame her for leaving school or for pushing Lauryn down the hill. He blamed himself for allowing her to leave school and for letting Lauryn fool him into thinking hot sex was love. It had taken him awhile to accept responsibility for what had happened between him and Kenya. It was easier for him to blame someone else for his shortcomings when he was younger. Now he had to prove to Kenya that he was a changed man.