Private Lessons (9 page)

“W
ell, did you call him?” Alexis asked over the phone.

Naomi was puttering around in the black and white, stainless steel kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the sweet-and-sour chicken and checking the pot of steamed vegetables. She had this one room totally redone when she'd moved in. All of her life she'd wanted a Martha Stewart kitchen, complete with every pot, pan, and utensil that one cook could ever need. She'd had a wall knocked out to accommodate glass-enclosed pantry, the view providing the onlooker a visionary wonderland of spices, fresh herbs, condiments, pastas and sauces.

“Yes, I called him,” she said, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder as she worked.

“And?”

“And we talked. I told him everything and he told me everything.”

“And?”

“And we…worked it out.”

“Nay, why in the hell are you being so evasive? What is going on?” She waited a beat. “You plan to keep seeing him, don't you? Naomi?”

“Lexi, listen, for all of our sake, just let it go, okay?”

“Naomi, listen to me. Don't do this. It could ruin you. What about all the years, the hard work? Is it worth losing for this man?”

“I can't talk to you about this any more, Lexi. I've made up my mind.”

“I see.” She paused. “You're crazy, you know.”

“Probably.”

“I hope it's worth it, sweetie.”

“Me, too.”

 

At ten minutes to seven, Naomi's front doorbell rang. She took a quick look around the kitchen, darted to the front, fluffed a pillow on her way to the door and checked her reflection in the hall mirror. She drew in a long, calming breath and pulled the door open.

“Trevor? What are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet me after all this time?” His smile was broad. His deep dimples flashed. “I've
left you messages. You've never returned any of my calls.”

She tightened her mouth and folded her arms. “What do you want?”

“I came to see you.”

“We don't have anything to say to each other. Shouldn't you be home with your wife, instead of standing on my doorstep?”

“It's over. Has been for a while. If you'd listened to my messages you would have known that.” Trevor explained.

“Too bad that I don't care. Good night, Trevor. And don't come back.” She started to push the door closed but he held it open with his arm.

“Look, I know what I did was wrong. I know I hurt you and you didn't deserve that. I've been living with that all these years. I made a big mistake, Naomi.” He reached out to touch her and she jerked back.

“I don't know why you're here, but I'm not interested in whatever it is you have to say. So please leave.”

He took a step back just as Brice's blue Ford Taurus pulled into Naomi's driveway. He turned toward the car. “Expecting company?”

Her pulse started racing. “That's really none of your business.”
Don't get out,
she silently prayed.
Please.

The car door opened. Brice stepped out and zeroed right in on the scene at the doorway. He slammed the door shut. Naomi prayed for the earth to open and
swallow her up. He walked toward the three steps that led to the house. In the distance, Naomi heard the church bell chime seven.
At least he's punctual
, she thought despite her terror.

Brice was now on the top step with Trevor, and they were eye to eye. “Hey man, how you doing?” Brice stated more than asked.

Trevor stuck out his hand. “Trevor Lloyd.”

“Brice Lawrence.” Brice turned to Naomi and she saw all the questions hovering in his eyes.

“If you'll excuse me, Trevor.” She stepped aside to let Brice pass. He stepped inside but not out of earshot.

Trevor leaned down toward Naomi and lowered his voice. “I thought that its only right to let you know that I was back in town.” He paused, almost hesitant. “I want you back.” He looked beyond her stricken expression to Brice, who was facing him. He waved. “Nice to meet you, brother.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Trevor turned to leave and Naomi shut the door behind him.

“Old friend?”

“Something like that.” On wobbly legs, she crossed the floor and sat down in the arm chair.

“Anything I should know?”

She looked across at him. “Yes. We'll talk over dinner.” She took his hand and led him to the small dining room.

“I'm not helpless, you know,” he said, following her into the kitchen. “What can I do?”

When she turned to him he was stunned to find her eyes filled with tears. He went straight to her. “Naomi, what is it? Is it that guy?”

Tears slid down her cheeks. “I don't even know where to begin.” She walked over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. She sat down and pinned her hands between her knees, her head bowed.

“Start wherever you want, and work your way around the rest.”

“That was my ex,” she said on a long sigh.

“I figured as much. What else?”

She wiped her eyes. “It ended two years ago,” she began, and then slowly filled in the blanks, with the hurt and humiliation. How she'd turned inside herself and buried her needs and wants. “Until I met you,” she whispered.

He took her hands and brought them to his lips. “He's a bastard for what he did to you.” He squeezed her hands a little too tight as his anger grew. “How dare he show up here like nothing happened?” He jumped up from his seat and began to pace the floor of the neat black-and-white kitchen, running his hand across his head. He stopped and turned to her, his dark eyes hard and fixed. “What else?”

Her bottom lip trembled. “He said he wanted me back.”

Brice reflexively kicked the leg of the table, rattling the contents on top. “Oh, really? That's not
going to happen.” He heaved in his anger. “Unless that's what you want.”

She got up and went to him. “No! It's not what I want. That is over and done with. I just don't want him making trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I thought I knew him once upon a time. I have no idea what he is capable of.” She lowered her gaze, then looked at him. “He saw you. He knows your name.”

“So?”

She shook her head to dispel the racing thoughts. Trevor tended to have a possessive streak when it suited him, she thought. If he figured someone had dibs on something he wanted there was no telling what he would do. “Forget it.” She cupped his face in her hands and lifted up on the balls of her feet and kissed him softly on the mouth. “This was not how I planned our evening. And I'm not going to let Trevor Lloyd ruin it.” She forced herself to smile.

Brice wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned back so that he could look at her fully. “That's better.” He kissed her lightly. “Tonight is our night.”

She rested her head against his chest and listened to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. She would put everything out of her mind except the night ahead with Brice. She had no idea what Trevor's plans were. The only thing she could be sure of about Trevor was that he was determined, and if he set his mind to do
something he would get it done, no matter what it took, even if that included her. That was her fear.

 

Trevor circled Naomi's block four times. Each time he cruised by her house the car was still in the driveway. He didn't know whether to be pissed off or amused. He finally turned out his headlights and parked halfway down her street. He could still see the lights in her house from where he was parked.

He leaned back in his leather seat and thought about what had brought him here. He'd made some major mistakes in his life, and losing Naomi was one of the big ones. He thought what he wanted was power, prestige and the arm candy to go with it. He'd been so wrong. Melissa nearly ruined him financially and career-wise. When he'd discovered that she'd been emptying their bank account to take care of her lover he nearly lost it. He'd gone to the bank to have it out with his loan officer after receiving a letter from the mortgage company that he was in default. Obviously it was a mistake. After nearly tearing off the bank manager's head, he was taken into the office and shown the screen where his six figure bank account was displaying big fat zeros. Shaken, furious and confused he confronted her when she returned from her weekend away, supposedly with her girls, only to have her boldly confess that she'd been seeing Paul since right after their honeymoon. Paul her ex! He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was a
mistake to marry you, she was saying. She wanted out. She was packing and leaving.

He'd gone on a drinking binge, started missing classes, messing up reports and evaluations. Morehouse had no choice but to let him go. When the marshal came and padlocked his house he knew he'd hit rock bottom. He checked himself into rehab and hoped at some point he could salvage his career. So he'd come back hoping to find a way to start over, but it seemed like Naomi already had.

The downstairs lights went out. He sat up in his seat. He saw movement in her bedroom window, then those lights went out, too. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, took one last look, put the car in gear and tore away from the curb.

“O
oooh, yes…right there, right there….” Naomi cried. She gripped his back and raised her legs higher.

Brice swore he'd just dipped deeper into eternity. “I know, baby,” he moaned in her ear, moving in long penetration strokes, in and out of her, grinding his pelvis against her so that he teased her throbbing bud each time he moved. He cupped her breast in one hand, its silky lushness overflowing as he massaged it and tweeked her nipple between his fingertips.

Making love with Naomi was taking a ride to heaven. He'd had women in his life that knew all kinds of tricks and could make their vaginas sing the national anthem, but none of them turned him
out and turned him on like Naomi. He couldn't get enough of her. And the turn-on wasn't the sex itself, he thought, through a cloud of ecstasy, as a shot of euphoric pleasure shimmied through him when she twisted her hips and offered up her other breast for him to feast on. It was all that came before it—the talking, the laughter, the getting inside each other's head, the knowing what the other was thinking, anticipating their wants.

This—this was just plain old crazy, scramble-your-mind loving. The icing on the cake.

Her insides tightened around him and he gasped in shocked pleasure.

“Careful,” he warned thickly.

She grinned and did it again.

The sound that rose from his throat was animal-like, primitive. She did it again. Squeezed and released in rapid succession until she felt his body shudder, his penis lengthen even further and fill to bursting, and she knew he was right there and she was there with him.

He dove his hands under her hips and pulled her hard and fast up against his demanding thrust. Faster. Harder. Faster. They were both caught up in the inescapable maelstrom of their desire for release, pushing each other to the limit. And then he hit it—that spot deep inside her walls—and she screamed for mercy as her climax gripped her in a viselike hold and shook her and shook her. And Brice was
right there to catch her and release the gush of his own joy.

“We can't keep this up,” Naomi whispered hoarsely into the hot curve of Brice's throat.

He slid his hand down between her legs and tenderly stroked her. “Can't keep what up?” He slipped a finger into the wetness.

Her body jerked and she moaned. “We're…going to…be too weak….”

“I like how I get to be weak. How about you?”

She didn't think she had anything left, but she did. She felt it building as Brice fingered her every so slowly. Her hips arched and fell in rhythm with him. He lowered his head and skimmed the crest of her breast with his tongue, before taking the tender, sweet nipple into his mouth and drawing it in. She clawed the sheets. He slid in another finger; and when her body adjusted, he put in another and she started to see stars explode behind her eyelids.

She knew it was pointless to fight it and she didn't want to. She spread her thighs and bent her knees, giving him full access and her unspeakable pleasure. And then he took her just where he wanted her to go when he used his thumb to caress her clit, while his fingers danced in the wet well of her essence.

When Naomi opened her eyes her bedroom was pitch-black except for the illumination of the streetlights beyond her window.

Brice's arm was draped across her middle and her back was pressed against his chest, spoon fashion.
She brought his hand up to her lips and tenderly kissed his fingers, then held them to her cheek.

This was more than she could have ever hoped for. She was afraid of what she was feeling. It was strong. Strong enough to make her take risks and toss to the curb the man that she'd once been ready to walk down the aisle with.

It didn't make sense. This was how you felt about someone that you'd known for a while, dealt with on several levels. Yet she knew that Brice was meant for her. For all the craziness, they were meant to be together.

He moved against her. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” she said into the dark.

He nuzzled the back of her neck. “I'm falling in love with you, Naomi.” He kissed the back of her neck. “Can you handle that?”

She flipped over, tried to see his eyes in the darkness.

“I…”

“Don't tell me you feel the same way,” he said. “Just tell me if you can handle how I'm feeling you.” He ran a finger down her center and stopped at her stomach.

Naomi clamored onto her knees and looked down at his hot, dark silhouette then draped her right leg across his waist until she straddled him. She took him at half-mast and brought him fully to life. She rose up and pressed the pulsing head against her throbbing
opening then slowly lowered herself until he was buried inside her.

“Yes,” she said with a strangled groan, “I can handle how you're feeling me.”

 

Naomi was finishing up in the shower after banning Brice from entering. She'd taken a long, leisurely, steamy-hot shower, using her favorite body scrub. She felt featherlike and happy from the inside out. Her spirit was smiling and she hadn't felt this way in longer than she could remember.

They'd spent the entire weekend together, not leaving the house except to take a walk to the deli for some coffee. They talked and laughed, watched television, discussed the plans for his school, made love in every room of her house, dug out some old movies, popped popcorn and simply enjoyed each other.

As she dried off, she thought about what Brice had all but confessed to her the night before last.
He was falling in love with her.
That took a lot for a man to say, and she didn't take it lightly. If it had been anyone else, she would think that he was just pulling her stings. But not Brice. She knew him—as crazy as that sounded, she knew him. He was sincere, and that realization thrilled her.

She tied the towel around her body, opened the door and stepped out. She walked down the hall to her bedroom and stopped short when she heard Brice talking.

“I know. And I'm sorry. I should have called…”

She moved closer.

“Right. Look, we have to talk, Pam.”

Naomi's neck jerked back.
Pam!
She pushed open the bedroom door, expecting to see guilt written all over his face. Instead he smiled warmly at her and beckoned her to him.

Wary, she came to him and he wrapped his arm around her. “Yes, we'll talk. I think there are some things we should clear up. Okay. Good. See you in class tomorrow.” He disconnected the call and tossed it on the bed.

Naomi waited for him to explain.

Brice kissed the top of her head. “Hmm, you smell edible.” He leaned down and nibbled her ear. She pulled away and crossed the room, sat down on the side of the bed.

“What's wrong?”

She snapped her head up at him. “You tell me.”

He angled his head to the side and looked at her. “What did we promise each other, once we got all the mud out of the way?”

She huffed. “That we would be honest with each other.”

“Exactly.”

“Whatever you want to know I will tell you. You don't have to hedge or throw hints.”

“Fine. What did Pam want?”

He came and sat down beside her and explained about her phone call two days earlier. “I don't want
to lead her on. She's a wonderful woman, but I know she wants more than just friendship.”

“You're a little late with that realization. I saw that from day one in class.”

He frowned. “Really?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Men! Yes, really.” She stood up. “So what are you going to do?”

“I'm going to talk to her. Let her know we can be friends, but that's it.” He pulled Naomi down onto his lap and tugged on the towel until it fell loose and pooled around her waist.

Reverently he touched her. So softly she could have only imagined it. And before she realized, it they were making slow, slow love.

There's always more water where the last shower came from
, she thought, as he took her on another thrill ride.

 

Brice left Naomi's house late Sunday night. Neither of them wanted to be apart, but they both had classes the next day. Although they'd spent most of their time naked or barely clothed, and Naomi had tossed Brice's clothes in the washing machine, he still needed to get gear for class.

They stood at the door. “I'll give you a call when I get in,” he said.

Naomi nodded, her insides aching as if he was leaving the country and not just driving twenty minutes away.

“Tomorrow will be the real test,” he said.

She looked up at him.

“We'll have to see how good you are at not letting your class know how crazy you are about me,” he teased, which earned him a halfhearted sock in the arm. He drew her close. “Or how crazy
I
am about
you
,” he whispered, before giving her a final kiss goodbye.

Naomi watched from her steps until his car disappeared. She turned and went back inside. Shutting the door, she leaned against it for a moment, reliving her unbelievable weekend. And she wondered just how good she would be at hiding that she was slowly and steadily falling in love with Brice, too.

 

Brice dug around in his pocket for his key and let himself in. He'd been in the apartment for almost three months, and not until now did it feel so utterly empty.

He missed her already. Now that was crazy. He chuckled to himself. Yeah, he had it bad. He walked through the front room to the kitchen in search of something cool to drink. It might be fall everywhere else along the East Coast, but it was sizzling in “the ATL.”

He took out the last bottle of Snapple Ice Tea, twisted off the cap and took a long, icy-cold swallow. He finished it off, tossed the bottle in the recycle can, turned out the lights and walked to the back to his bedroom. It was going to be a long night, he knew,
as he started taking off his clothes and tossing them on a side chair. He took his cell phone from his pants pocket, then crawled under the cool sheets.

From the light of the cell phone, he pressed in Naomi's number. She answered on the second ring. They talked for almost an hour, until Naomi insisted that they both get some sleep.

“I'm still heading that way, woman,” Brice said before they hung up.

“What way?”

“Falling…for
you
. Hard.”

Her heart tumbled. “So am I.”

And before he could respond, she'd hung up the phone. In the dark, she smiled with happiness and Brice did the same.

The sound of a car's engine punctuated the stillness of the night.