Scandalicious (37 page)

He leapt to his feet. Kicked a stool over. Muttering obscenities, he paced around the kitchen. The vile…vulgar…disgusting sext messages had taken place a mere half-hour ago, while Chevonne was in the kitchen—supposedly parenting their kids.

That bitch! That dirty…cheating…fuckin’ bitch, pulling this same bullshit again!
Grim-faced, Lincoln stalked upstairs, grabbed his laptop, and powered it on. Two minutes later, a visit to the inmate information site enflamed Lincoln further.

The gun-toting, pyromaniac mechanic had been released last night at six.

It all came rushing back to him. Chevonne whispering and giggling on the phone last night. She was talking with concern and sweetness in her voice, and now Lincoln realized she’d been talking to that fuckin’ Raheem.

Lincoln read the text exchanges so many times, the words were imprinted in his mind. His first thought was to storm into Chevonne’s
office. Holding the incriminating BlackBerry in his hand, he’d expose her in front of her staff as the dirty, skank hoe that she was. But that idea brought only a small measure of satisfaction.

The only way to feel better was to go upside a disrespectful nigga’s head. Remembering that Amir’s baseball bat was still in the trunk of his car, Lincoln dressed quickly. Murderously angry, he threw on a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and a jacket—didn’t bother to shower or shave.

It took being outside and breathing in the chilly autumn breeze to bring him to his senses.

Calm resolve replaced fury.
Two can play the same game,
he decided.

He went back inside. In the kitchen, he picked up the stool that he’d knocked over, and then returned Chevonne’s BlackBerry exactly where he’d found it.

He climbed the stairs purposefully. After showering and shaving, Lincoln dressed for work.

Solay finished mopping the floor and checked the clock. Shit! Vidal had done a shoddy clean-up job and Solay could not turn out the lights out in the kitchen unless it was sparkling clean. Lincoln would be here in five minutes, and she’d never gotten a chance to change out of her work clothes.

She dashed out of the kitchen and went into the dining area. In the rear, she stood before the full-length dressing mirror, examining herself. She looked tired and frumpy. How could she slip into seductress mode, looking like this?

When she’d extended the invitation, she was feeling vibrant and sexy, but tonight she was frazzled and worn.

She was feeling so unattractive and insecure.

Part of the problem was that she hadn’t received a text or a phone call from Deon in four days. Finally, she broke down and called him. She usually got his voicemail and was pleasantly surprised to hear his voice. But her joy didn’t last long. “Yo, I gotta hit you back. I’m in the middle of something,” he’d said brusquely before she could even say a word.

It seemed that her life was on permanent pause…living for Deon’s rare phone calls, his occasional texts. It was downright degrading, the way the relationship had declined, yet she continued to hold on to the dim hope that eventually she and Deon would be back together…in love the way they used to be.

If only I’d been more understanding—if I’d had more faith in him, our relationship would have been strong enough to endure the separation.

Soft, tentative knocks announced Lincoln’s arrival.

Treading toward the door, Solay smoothed her hair back as she practiced what she would say in her mind.
So sorry, but something’s come up. Can I get a rain check?

Through the glass pane, Lincoln looked like a totally different person, wearing sweat pants, T-shirt, sneakers and a hoodie. Brows knitted together in curiosity, she opened the door.

“Hey,” he greeted, but didn’t cross the threshold.

“Come on in,” she said politely.

He took a few steps, but remained close to the door. “Uh, look…I…uh, just came by to tell you that…well, I have a lot of stuff going on, but I want to be straight with you. That’s why I stopped by. Your offer was flattering, but I don’t think I’m the right guy.”

She flinched. Visibly. Her lips drew into a tight frown of disappointment.
Damn, I’m not even good enough to be a friend with benefits?

“Hey, don’t look like that.” He patted her shoulder.

Hurt by the sting of rejection, she squirmed away from his
sympathetic touch. “I know I’m not looking my best, but I must be looking a hot mess, any time a man turns down an opportunity for uncommitted sex.”

“Nooo. You’ve got it all wrong. You’re beautiful. And smart. You’ve got a lot going on for yourself. But my life…” His eyes dropped.

She glanced guiltily at his wedding band. “I know…I shouldn’t have hit on a married man. That was selfish and wrong.”

“It’s not that. I’m not at my best self right now.”

She shrugged. “You look good to me. You’re rocking that ‘right off the basketball court’ look. Very handsome and extremely sexy.”

“Handsome and sexy—really?” Lincoln chuckled, obviously flattered.

The flirtatious words had spilled from Solay’s lips without warning. There was something about rejection that was stimulating and challenging.

“Why don’t we go upstairs, have a drink, and talk about what’s bothering you and see how we can make it all better.” She moistened her lips.

Hands shoved into the pockets of his sweats, he came inside, pacing a little awkwardly as he looked around the empty dining area.

Solay hit a switch, turning down the bright illumination. The bakery took on a sultrier and more provocative look with the dimmed lighting.

Solay looked at Lincoln and smiled suggestively. He smiled back, his white teeth grazing his bottom lip. There was a definite attraction between them. Lincoln had a quiet sex appeal—the kind that snuck up on a woman, and took her off-guard.

She led the way upstairs to her apartment. “Welcome to my abode,” she said as she opened the door.

“Nice and cozy,” Lincoln commented.

“Thanks. Have a seat.” She motioned toward the sofa. “Glass of wine?”

“Sure.”

She came back carrying two glasses of red wine. “I want to be honest with you, Lincoln,” Solay said, sitting next to him. “I’m going through a crisis. My professional life is fine, but on a personal level, I’m an emotional wreck.”

“What’s going on with you?”

“Well, I’m supposed to be in a long distance relationship. But it’s clearly not working. I’ve been trying to hold on because it’s so hard to accept that it’s over. My emotions have been all over the place: frustrated, angry, scared, depressed, and lonely.” She shook her head. “I think I’m going through a sort of grieving process; at least that’s how it feels.”

“What went wrong? He had to be a very foolish man to risk losing someone like you.”

“I can’t blame him; it’s not his fault. It’s sort of on me. The relationship was already damaged before he went out of town. I had hoped that a little time apart would heal what was wrong. But the distance between us has only made it worse,” Solay said bitterly.

“Where’s out of town?”

“Toronto,” she said sadly. “So, what’s your story?” She changed the subject, afraid that she’d start crying if she talked about Deon for too long.

Lincoln held up his hands. “So many changes are happening in my life, I don’t know if I’m coming or going. This time a year ago, I couldn’t have imagined that my life would turn completely upside down. This is a challenging time for me, but I’ll get through it. I have to.”

Lincoln had provided only a vague account of his problems, yet Solay could feel his pain.

“I understand,” she said, looking deeply into his eyes. She took the glass of wine out of his hand, leaned in and boldly kissed him.

There were no fireworks. It wasn’t electrical…or magical. It was a gentle kiss, soft and soothing. She put her arms around his neck, realizing that she didn’t need sparks to fly—the only thing she needed was the comfort of a man.

She unclasped her arms, breaking the kiss. “I’m a little sweaty from cleaning up the shop. I’m gonna take a quick shower.” Solay stood up. “Turn on the TV.” She handed him the remote.

After standing, she bent over slightly and kissed his cheek and then playfully bit his earlobe. “I’ll be right back, lover,” she said with a wink.

L
incoln held the remote. He heard Solay’s footsteps as she padded down the hall. Moments later, he heard the shower curtain being pulled back, followed by the sound of running water.

He clicked on the TV, and turning the volume low, he surfed through the channels. Uninterested in watching any of the programs that flickered past, he settled on a random sitcom and put the remote down.

Lincoln took another sip of wine.
What am I doing here?
He felt ridiculous, like a kid in high school, waiting for his girl to come back and join him on the couch for another session of kissing and groping.

His mind flashed briefly on Chevonne and the children, and his first thought was to rush home and be with his family. Then he thought about Dr. Lerner’s recommendation—a one-night pass that could potentially heal his hurt and definitely even the score with Chevonne.

Ironically, he no longer had an interest in getting even. Revenge was the last thing on his mind. His marriage was in such bad shape that it would take more than a one-night stand to repair it. After hearing Chevonne whispering to her lover late at night in their bathroom, and after reading those damning texts, it would take a lobotomy for Lincoln to forget the callous way she’d disrespected him and their marriage. For her to have sneakily continued to cheat with Raheem was simply unforgivable.

Solay was in the shower. The idea of her being a few feet away from him, naked and wet, caused his dick to thicken inside his pants. Solay was a beautiful woman. The complete opposite of Chevonne. With her doe-shaped, slanted eyes, silky hair, and cinnamon-colored skin, Chevonne was an exotic beauty, and a complete enigma, always keeping secrets.

Red-bronzed skin and round, expressive eyes, Solay had that wholesome, girl-next-door look. Her open honesty and willingness to show her vulnerability had made her a kindred spirit. She wasn’t looking for romance; she needed sex to forget her pain. Lincoln wanted the same thing. They were two hurt people, trying to get a sexual healing. Probably not a good combination, but his throbbing dick had a different opinion.

Unable to resist the temptation of getting close to some naked wet booty, titties, and pussy, Lincoln shed his clothes.

Making a bold move, he entered the steamy bathroom. He hoped he’d read Solay’s signals right. It would be embarrassing if she let out a plaintive scream when he pulled the shower curtain back.
Is this what she wanted?
He questioned himself.
Of course, she does. Why else would she kiss me and tell me she was going to take a shower?

Taking a deep breath, he slowly pulled back the beach-themed shower curtain. Solay’s perfectly proportioned body was soapy all over. Her eyes were closed as she rubbed her arm with a bath sponge. When a tiny welcoming smile appeared on her lips, Lincoln stepped inside the shower stall.

He positioned her in front of him. Her butt against his groin. He picked the bath gel from the shower rack and poured a dollop in his palm, and then rubbed both palms together. Going straight for her breasts, he added more soap to the perky mounds. His thumbs toyed with her nipples, rubbing and twisting, forcing them
into sharp peaks. Water pelted his back as he soaped her body; his hands began to roam, squeezing her ass cheeks, running over her hips, stroking the mound of her pussy, exploring every area of her feminine landscape.

His hand worked its way to her sleek entry. He stroked and teased her pussy lips, but didn’t penetrate. Two fingers rested on either side of her pulsing clit, capturing it in a gentle, undemanding clasp. Lazily, he rubbed the hardened bud, circling it in a leisurely manner.

Heat emanated from Solay’s body; she moaned softly—her hips swiveled in a slow rhythm. Lincoln’s dick responded by prodding and probing, seeking a warm place. The rigid organ pulsed and probed until Lincoln tucked it inside the warm, moist confines of her lush, soapy thighs.