Love T.K.O. Page 15

  To show his appreciation, Rashawn had taken her to a Mediterranean restaurant that specialized in vegetarian cuisine. During dinner, he had entertained her with stories of growing up in the ’hood, running the streets with his boys and his first taste of love at sixteen. Yasmin had learned some interesting facts about him. He was born on St. Patrick’s Day, had three tattoos and had boxed in over twenty countries. And when he confessed to liking Harry Potter and sneaking away to read in the bathroom so the other boxers wouldn’t find out, Yasmin had laughed. There was an undeniable ease and things happened naturally when they were together. But they hadn’t known each other long. Surely three months wasn’t enough time for them to become lovers. Or was it? Grappling with her conscience, she glanced over at the mirror hanging above the sectional sofa. Yasmin liked what she saw. Rashawn was a head taller than she was, but they wore the same facial expression and emulated each other’s body language.

  “Are you thinking, or sleeping with your eyes open?” he teased.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for us to become lovers.”

  “Doc, it’s not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter, girl.” Rashawn laughed and when she did, too, he said, “We’ll kick back on my new couch and watch TV. I just want to spend some time with you before I leave for Miami, that’s all.”

  Yasmin relented. “I guess that’s okay.”

  “Have you given any more thought to coming?”

  “Looks like I have no choice. Imani saw the tickets on my dresser and screamed so loud I still can’t hear properly,” she joked, tugging at her earlobe for effect. “When I left this morning, she was packing.”

  “Cool.” His face visibly relaxed. “It means a lot having you there.”

  “I don’t see why. You have your family, your brothers and your team.”

  “This is different. Black male athletes get a bad rap for being sex-crazed womanizers, but no one talks about the half-naked groupies who sneak into washrooms or show up drunk at three in the morning. With you by my side, I don’t have to worry about adding extra security or switching hotel rooms every other night.” He winked. “Unless you want me to.”

  “Are you sure I’m not going to cramp your style?”

  “What are you asking?”

  Yasmin shrugged, unsure of what to say. She didn’t want to sound insecure, but she was. “You’ll have a lot of females clamoring for your attention and I don’t want to be lost in the crowd.”

  Talk of love and commitment and the future normally panicked him, but not this time. Instead of breaking out into a cold sweat or changing the subject, he held her tighter. “I want you there. Only you.”

  “It sounds like you’re under a lot of pressure.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” he confessed, wanting to share his struggles with her. “I arrive a few days before the fight, but my schedule doesn’t leave me much free time. I have interviews and other publicity stuff to do and most days I don’t climb into bed until after midnight.”

  “I’m not trying to add to your stress,” she told him. “I don’t mind staying here.”

  Rashawn saw the question in her eyes. He had the double burden of working against the stereotypes that plagued professional athletes and at the same time not making promises he knew he couldn’t keep. “The days leading up to a match are always insane. That’s why I didn’t want you there until Saturday. The night before the fight, I’ll do a short workout, eat a solid meal and turn in early.”

  “I understand.”

  He cupped her chin, then kissed her softly. “After I win, I’m all yours, Doc.”

  “You’re pretty confident, aren’t you?”

  Rashawn lifted his arm and flexed a muscle. “Don’t I have reason to be?”

  Rashawn turned onto his side. He hugged the pillow to his chest and his eyes shot open. Where was she? Momentarily disoriented, his gaze darted around the bedroom. The house was quiet, the air was still, but her scent lingered. Last night, he’d piled his plate with pizza and had two beers. Brody would kill him if he knew he had cheated on his diet, but he couldn’t help himself. The humid weather and the heaviness of the meal had created his languor. Within minutes of eating, his eyes had been heavy and he’d struggled to stay awake. The last thing he remembered was hitting Play on the remote control and curling up beside Yasmin. Had she gone home? The alarm clock said it was midnight, but the city was very much awake. Cars honked, rock music played in the distance and the voices of his neighbors drifted over the fence.

  He sat up and patted back a yawn. Relief washed over him when he saw Yasmin’s silhouette out on the balcony. She was sitting on the chaise lounge, hugging her knees to her chest. Her beauty was stunning, exquisite, overwhelming. Wide, almond-shaped eyes, loose flowing braids, mink-brown skin glistening under the light of the moon. He wanted to go to her, but something held him back. She was sitting rigidly, quietly, staring up at the sky. He could only see her profile, but he knew she was deep in thought. Why else would she be outside alone in the middle of the night?

  Lost in thought, Yasmin didn’t hear Rashawn step out onto the balcony.

  “How long have I been out?” he asked, scratching his bare chest.

  She turned to him, her lips parting in a soft smile. “Not long.”

  “Everything okay?”

  Nodding, she stretched her legs out in front of her. “I’m just thinking.”

  Rashawn examined her face. Something was troubling her but he decided not to push it. Yasmin would talk when she was ready. Remembering his conversation with his mom yesterday, he said, “Mom wants you to come over next Saturday. It’s my dad’s birthday and we’re having dinner at the house. Think you can make it?”

  After a brief pause, she said, “I’d like that.”

  “A word of warning. If she starts in on you about having my baby, ignore her.” He chuckled heartily. “Ma’s desperate for more grandchildren, any way she can get ’em.”

  “Most parents are.”

  “Are you feeing the pressure, too?”

  “No, I, ah, can’t have children.”

  “For real?” Rashawn sat down at the foot of the chaise. “How come?”

  Staring down, Yasmin toyed with the buttons on her shirt. She exhaled, gathered her courage and said, “I always knew something was wrong. My first period came late, and lasted for weeks. My gynecologist prescribed birth control pills to regulate my cycle and it was normal for a few months. But by the time I started college, I had night sweats, hot flashes and severe insomnia. Eventually, my gynecologist referred me to an endocrinologist and after a series of blood tests they discovered my levels of follicle-stimulating hormone were elevated.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s the function that regulates the growth and development of eggs. In short, I’m in premature ovarian failure.” Her eyes misted over, but the tears didn’t fall. “I have a fifteen percent chance of conceiving naturally.”

  Leaning forward, he held her gaze. “That doesn’t mean you won’t be a mother. When you’re ready to have children, you can always find a surrogate or adopt.” He paused. “I’m just sorry you had to go through all that alone.”

  “That means a lot. And you’re right. I can. I’ve been thinking a lot about it the last few months,” she confessed, nodding slowly. “Eric’s death reminded me of how short life is and I want to make the most out of the time I have.”

  “Doc, you make sure the kids at the community center are fed, clean and safe and you keep on top of their grades and assignments. You’re phenomenal that way. In my eyes, you’re already a mom,” he praised, kissing her cheek. “And if you decide not to go the adoption route, I can always ask my brother if you could have Porsha.”

  Smiling, she shook her head incredulously. “You’re terrible.”

  “What? That girl’s a handful!”

  “And so is her uncle.”

  His smile met hers. “Good thing I have you here to keep me in line, huh, Doc?”
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br />   Yasmin couldn’t resist smoothing a hand over his goatee. She ran her fingers along his jawline, caressing the gentle contours of his face. Rashawn was amazing in every sense of the word. He was a laid-back, easygoing guy who could find the upside of any situation. He had comforted her and, despite the severity of her confession, he’d found a way to make her laugh. He truly, truly accepted her. All of her.

  The air was charged with desire. Closing her eyes, she bent down and kissed him. It was a soulful kiss, rife with passion and desire. His mouth was sweet, wet, moist. Despite her feelings for him, there was still a part of her, albeit a small one, that was nervous about them becoming lovers. Was it too soon? Would it ruin their friendship? Though they hadn’t discussed being exclusive, she knew Rashawn could be trusted with her feelings. Clearing her mind of her worries, she enjoyed the tantalizing mixture of kissing and touching. All her life she had been told she was too tall, too dark, too heavy. It felt good being with someone who desired her, imperfections and all.

  Breathing hard and fast, Rashawn stretched out on the lounger and pulled her down on top of him. His tongue made a trail from her ear to the apex of her breasts. Yasmin wrapped her arms around him and swathed her legs around his waist. Unbuttoning her shirt exposed her white push-up bra and thong panties. He bathed her lips with his mouth, then her breasts, neck and stomach, alternating between gentle and rough kisses. When he sucked her navel, she grabbed the back of his head. He pressed light, feathery kisses on her belly button and the inside of her thighs.

  Yasmin was planning their first time together to be in Miami, but if she had learned anything in the last two years, it was to live in the beauty of the moment. They were here, together, loving each other, pleasing each other, sheltered from the outside world. During the week, she counseled couples to abandon the rules and make love whenever and wherever.

  “You can’t plan to be spontaneous,” she told them. “When passion strikes, go for it.” It was time she took her own advice.

  Outlining her lips with his tongue, his hands voyaged down the delicate slope of her hips. Sensitive to his touch, her breathing deepened. Rashawn’s body was conditioned to function at the highest level and he was an expert at conveying pleasure with his lips, his tongue, and his hands. His mouth feasted on her nipples, teasing her, tasting her, caressing her. Mumbled words and desires were whispered into the night. The warm summer breeze played over their sweat-drenched bodes, arousing the fire that burned within. After what seemed like hours of torturously hot foreplay, his hands slid down the length of her body, pausing between her legs. It had been months for her. He wanted to make sure what he was doing felt good. Brushing his mouth against her ear, he whispered, “How does that feel?”

  A strangled moan was answer enough.

  Sucking gently on her bottom lip, his fingers drew light circles on her stomach. He slipped a finger inside her, stroking, touching, massaging her G-spot. Darkness surrounded them, but there was no mistaking the lusty gleam in her deep-brown eyes. He noticed her jagged breathing, the hazy look on her face and the sprinkles of sweat on her brow. It was time. She was ready.

  “I’ll be right back,” he whispered.

  Grazing her fingers precariously close to his shaft, she brushed her mouth against the hollow of his throat. “Where are you going?”

  “To get protection.”

  “But, I’m on the Pill.”

  “You can never be too safe.”

  Rashawn raced back into the bedroom as if it was on fire and Yasmin laughed out loud. She’d never seen him move so fast. For a second, she thought of following him back inside, but decided not to ruin the spontaneity of the moment. He returned, sheathed, and she gawked openly at the sight of his naked body. He was a gym rat and had the pecks, abs and biceps to prove it. His erection was large, hard and thick, drawing her wanton gaze south.

  Wearing a small, sheepish smile, Rashawn crossed the balcony. His scent was intoxicating. And like first dates and first kisses, the rush if being with him overcame her. Pulling him down on top of her, Yasmin coiled her long legs around his trim waist. Never had she felt so out of control. It was as if she was dreaming, hovering above, watching herself act out her wildest, sexiest fantasy. His touch fueled her desire, and with every kiss, caress and stroke, she fell deeper in love.

  Soon, her entire body was a hotbed of nerves. His loving was sweet torture. Soulful, raunchy, intense. The sexual equivalent of an R. Kelly song. And when he parted her legs and slid inside her, she felt a rush of divine pleasure. Every part of her skin was sensitive to his touch. His movements were controlled, gentle and painstakingly slow, but each thrust brought Yasmin closer to euphoria.

  Burying himself between her legs, his breathing deep and ragged, Rashawn pushed her knees up against his chest, deepening the penetration. Hands and legs entwined, they moved in a delicious rhythmic motion. It took some effort, but Yasmin forced her eyes open. She wanted to see him, wanted to see the look on his face when he exploded inside her. Rashawn gripped her hips, plunging into her forcefully, and a quick, electrifying sensation ripped through her body. Hugging her possessively to his chest, he gathered her full lustrous hair in his hands. Yasmin was a respectable businesswoman, the most refined and elegant woman he’d ever dated, but she surprised him by digging her nails into his flesh and kissing him so passionately he saw double.

  The rest of the night was given to soft and sweet lovemaking, and when the early-morning sunshine fell across the house, Rashawn and Yasmin were just going to bed.

  Chapter 17

  “What do you think? The teddy or the French maid costume?”

  Yasmin stared at her sister through the bathroom mirror. Imani held a piece of lingerie in each hand, a naughty grin on her red-hued lips. Dusting loose powder over the bridge of her nose, she joked, “Neither. You don’t have to impress me, roomie.”

  “Roomie? Girl, please. Dean booked us the honeymoon suite at the Concord and I plan to thank him in every room.”

  “Dean?”

  “Yeah, you know, the tall, hard-bodied hunk I’ve been doing—” her eyes bulged and she cupped her mouth in mock surprise “—I mean, dating for the last year.”

  Yasmin’s smile faded. “I didn’t know he was coming.”

  “I thought I mentioned it.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Releasing a deep sigh, she peered into the mirror and applied a second coat of eyeliner. “If I knew Dean was coming, I would have invited Katherine. At least she would have kept me company.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  Imani plunked down on the toilet seat. “No, let’s talk abut it. You’re obviously upset about something, so speak on it.”

  “Forget I said anything. I don’t want to argue.”

  “Who’s arguing? Say what you have to say. I’m not a kid. I can handle it.”

  Yasmin didn’t want to have this conversation with Imani. If she did, her sister would get angry and they’d ignore each other on the flight. “Why don’t we discuss this when we’re both in a better frame of mind?”

  “Is that therapist talk? Good God. You’re a pro when it comes to disguising your feelings,” she said, her voice reeking with sarcasm. “I hope your clients don’t take your approach to resolving conflict. They’ll never get anywhere if they do.”

  Hurt by the stinging retort, but refusing to lash back, Yasmin outlined the rim of her lips with a lip pencil, then applied a dab of gloss.

  “What is it?” Imani pressed, blowing her bangs out of her face.

  “It’s nothing. I just thought we were hanging out this weekend.”

  “Why?”

  “Because when I invited you, you said you wanted to go Jet Skiing and snorkeling on Saturday morning.”

  “Yassie, I never expected us to do those things together. This trip isn’t a sightseeing excursion or one of our weekend getaways. It’s about you supporting your man. And the only reason Dean is coming is to watch the match.
When I told him we were going, he called Rashawn and begged for a ticket. You’re lucky Eli has an exam to study for and Dad has to work because they wanted to tag along, too.”

  “I didn’t realize so many people wanted to see the fight.”

  “Yeah, girl, your man is a superstar!” Chuckling, Imani eyed her sister sympathetically. “Is there anything else?”

  Yasmin didn’t answer. Libras were loveable but selfish and Yasmin had learned a long time ago that when it came to Imani, she had to take the good with the bad. It was still hard for her to believe her sister had found yet another man who was willing to put up with her me-me-me attitude, but she had, and an exceptional one at that.

  Yasmin would rather be miserable than stir the pot. Listening to couples bicker on a daily basis was emotionally draining and she didn’t want the same atmosphere at home. But if she kept quiet, her resentment would grow and that wasn’t healthy for anybody. “We bought this place because we wanted to live together, but you’re hardly here. You spend weekends at Dean’s and the few times you’re here, you’re working in the office or on the phone with him.”

  “Is it my fault the brother can’t get enough of me?” Imani’s attempt to make her sister laugh failed.

  Silence gripped the room.

  “You’re not here for me anymore and sometimes it feels like I’ve lost my best friend…” Yasmin’s voice cracked, forcing her to stop.

  Imani jumped to her feet. “Are you serious? That’s crazy. We’re sisters! Nobody can come between us!”

  “You forget about me every time you start dating somebody new. Then, when you break up, you expect me to drop everything and console you.”

  “You make me sound like a self-centered bitch. Am I really that bad?”

  A pause, then, “Sometimes.”

  “I never knew you felt that way,” she confessed, pausing reflectively. “Okay, from now on I’m going to make more time for us. You have my word.” Feeling sentimental, she kissed Yasmin’s cheek. Hoping to alleviate the mood, Imani pitched an arm around her shoulder and said, “Are you packed and ready to go?”