After organizing the documents spread across my desk, I follow the sound of laughter and music.I stop at the kitchen entrance, caught by the scene reflected in the full-length mirror: Alisha and Samantha dancing around the island, singing "I'm worth it, baby" at the top of their lungs.
My chest tightens at Samantha's genuine smile—warmer than the sun—and I know exactly who put it there.From day one, Alisha has given my daughter what she needed most: openness, kindness, and just enough silliness to break through her walls.
The sight triggers an old memory I usually keep buried.Their joy is everything I didn't have growing up.In our household, academic achievements were the only currency worth trading in.My parents' praise came with conditions—perfect grades, perfect behavior, perfect everything.I force the thoughts away, focusing instead on the present.
Samantha's phone rings, cutting through their impromptu performance.She checks the screen, her face lighting up."My best friend, Rachel, from Los Angeles is calling.Do you mind?"
"Go talk with her."Alisha's smile is gentle."The pancakes are ready and warm, so take your time."
As Samantha disconnects the speakers and leaves, Alisha pulls out her own phone.A moment later, "Talk With Your Body" fills the room.My pulse kicks up—this was the song she danced to that first night at Six-Pack.Like then, her red outfit and holy lips tease and torment.
I move to lean against the doorframe, watching as she starts to dance.The slight curl of her lips tells me she knows I'm here, but she doesn't acknowledge me.Instead, she moves with deliberate sensuality, drawing me into her web like a spider with particularly effective hips.
Christ.When this woman dances, her personality explodes like fireworks on a clear night.Her palms slide up her thighs, and my hands itch to follow their path.Her fingers tangle in that waterfall of golden hair, and my mouth goes dry.
She stops directly in front of me, placing one hand on my chest.Without thinking, I grab her hips and spin us, pressing her back against the doorpost.I brace one arm above her head while my other hand traces her thigh.The music fades, leaving only our ragged breathing in the silence.Her sweet scent—pear and jasmine and pure Alisha—makes my head spin.
"Your body sure talks when it dances."I lift my gaze to find her pupils blown wide as my fingers dig into her hip.
She slides her palms to my waist."Do you like what my body is saying to you, Cole?"
I swallow hard, my mouth watering at the sight of those red lips."Yes, I do, but that doesn't mean I will act upon it.We both know that—"
Her mouth claims mine before I can finish, hot and demanding and dangerous.Not the hesitant kiss of someone testing waters—this is diving in headfirst.I should pull away, but her tongue slides against mine, and my body betrays my better judgment.My fingers travel up her thigh as she moans into my mouth, the sound shooting straight to my groin.
With the last shred of self-control, I wrench myself back, putting distance between us.I lean against the kitchen island, dragging my hands over my face.Get it together, Walker.
"Damn.Why did you do that?"
"Because I needed to test my theory."Her voice holds a challenge.
"What?"I press my fingertips to my forehead, dread pooling in my gut.
She draws in a deep breath, and something in her stance shifts."Ever since he attacked me, I freak out when men touch me."
Images of her bruised face flash through my mind, turning my hands to fists.The memory of her fear-glazed eyes makes my jaw clench.
"But you're the exception, Cole Walker."Heat floods my system at her words."I don't know why, but my body and mind don't reject you.Not drunk, not sober."A brief grin flashes across her face."That's why I need your help."
My heartbeat thunders in my ears."With what?"
She closes the distance between us, her fingers playing with my shirt."I want to have sex with you."
The words hit like a physical blow.My breathing stops as images of our bodies tangled together assault my brain.
"We have insane chemistry," she continues, "and by having sex with you, I hope I'll be able to open up to other men in the future."
Every muscle in my body turns to concrete."No."
Her hands drop."What?"
"No," I repeat, the word tasting like ash.
She crosses her arms, and I watch frustration morph into anger in those green eyes as we stare each other down.
"I'm putting myself on a goddamn platter, practically begging you for sex, and you say no?"
"Yes, because it's not worth taking the risk."
