Let Me Hold You Read online

  (McClain Brothers: Book 2)

  Alexandria House

  Pink Cashmere Publishing, LLC

  Arkansas, USA

  Copyright © 2018 by Alexandria House

  Cover image by JAIDA A. PHOTOGRAPHY

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing 2018

  Pink Cashmere Publishing, LLC

  [email protected]

  http://pinkcashmerepublishing.webs.com/

  Let Me Hold You

  NBA player, Leland McClain, the baby of the McClain family, is tall, handsome, talented…and spoiled. He’s a man who gets what he wants, and what he wants is the lovely Kimberly Hampton.

  Kim Hampton is the director of a community center, a woman who lives to help others while trying to forget a troubling past. As far as she’s concerned, a relationship with any man is a horrible idea. But a relationship with Leland McClain? That’s just out of the question.

  He has to have her.

  She is undeniably attracted to him.

  But will she lower her guard and let him hold her?

  1

  I rolled over in bed, felt the heavy gold chain around my neck shift as I slid the soft hand from my chest and reached for my phone on the night table. Easing out of bed, I swiped my underwear from the floor as I stretched my body and headed into the suite’s bathroom, phone in hand. I missed the call, but after I emptied my bladder, redialed the number and leaned over the sink as I waited for her to answer.

  Instead of a hello, she drawled, “I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Her voice was that familiar combination of gruffness and comfort that I loved hearing.

  “Yeah, but it’s cool. You the only somebody who’s allowed to wake me up.”

  She chuckled. “Well, I’m glad to know I got that kinda pull with you. How you doing?”

  “Good. How are you, Auntie? Your blood pressure okay? You had that test for your heart that your doctor recommended yet?”

  “I’m fine, boy. What I tell you about worrying about me?”

  Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror and stretching my tired eyes, I said, “Can’t help it. You the only mama I got left besides Kat.”

  She laughed. “That girl always did think she could boss you around.”

  “Think? She did a good job of it! And she look so much like Mama that half the time I thought she was her!”

  There was silence from Aunt Ever. I was sure she was trying not to cry, probably thinking about her baby sister, my sweet mother. I had cried all the tears I had for her when I was a kid and held on to the good of the fact that she’d ever lived rather than mourning her loss now.

  “You getting settled in St. Louis? Liking it so far?” she asked, redirecting the conversation.

  “Yeah, it’s cool,” I lied. I hated the move, was accustomed to living between LA and Miami. St. Louis was slower than both, in some ways even slower than Houston to me. I preferred a faster pace.

  “Made any new friends?”

  Before I could answer, I felt her wrap her arms around my waist and press her breasts against my bare back. That irritated the shit out of me. Not that I couldn’t go for some more of what she gave me the night before, but I was on the phone with my aunt. The last thing I wanted was a hard dick while talking to her, so I said, “Hey, let me call you back, Auntie.”

  “Mm-hmm, tell whoever she is I said hi.”

  I shook my head as I ended the call. “Good morning,” I said, covering her hands with mine.

  “Good morning to you,” she said, sliding her hand down my stomach to my groin, then adding, “and to you, too.”

  I turned my head toward her a little and smiled. “You tryna get something started that I can’t finish. I got places to be, shit I gotta do.”

  I heard her sigh, felt her warm breath on my back. “So, I’m being dismissed?”

  Moving her hands, I spun around to face her. She was pretty, fine, and I’d enjoyed her the night before, but I really did have a packed schedule. I had to work out, had houses to look at, calls to make, and a prior commitment I didn’t want to be late for. “You ain’t gotta take it that way. I had fun with you, but like I said, I got shit to do.”

  “You gonna call me later? Maybe we can have drinks…or something?”

  I left the bathroom, re-entering the bedroom of the suite in search of the rest of my clothes. “Or something, huh? My schedule is packed, but I’ma hit you up as soon as I can, a’ight?”

  “Okay, because I want you to meet my brother and my son. They’re both huge fans. And maybe we could catch a movie or something?”

  It was my turn to sigh. What part of “my schedule is packed” did she not get? And damn, why was she trying to introduce me to her folks when I just met her ass last night? I swear, you’d think a forty-seven-year-old woman wouldn’t be trying to move so fast. Shit!

  I didn’t answer her in the affirmative or negative, just finished getting dressed, gave her a kiss, and left her in my suite hoping she’d be gone when I got back, because like I said, I had shit to do.

  *****

  I stood on the sideline and watched the hoard of twelve and thirteen-year-olds dribble balls, joke around, and mostly gawk at me despite the fact that I was standing right next to my boy, Polo, who was damn near seven feet tall, a big Shaquille O’Neal-built nigga who was always wearing a mug although he wouldn’t hurt a fly. I guess it was because I was new to the area and my team, or maybe because—

  “Daaaaaamn, she fine!” Polo muttered under his breath. “Look at her booty!”

  I followed his line of sight to her—tight beige skirt that fit her wide hips perfectly and stopped just above her knees so that those big legs of hers were on display. Sleeveless red blouse, huge layered pearl necklace, hair in some kind of fancy cornrowed pattern, smooth chocolate skin. Yeah, she was undoubtedly fine. No, bump that. She was sexy as hell.

  Nevertheless, I turned to him and shrugged. “She a’ight. A little too young for me, though. You know how I do.”

  Polo shook his head. “Yeah, I remember back in college while the rest of us was trying to get with the cheerleaders and those fine-ass sprinters, your ass was always sniffing in behind some professor.”

  “Or one of those cheerleaders’ mamas. They were all fine!”

  Polo laughed. “I will never understand you. And her? She older than us, ain’t she? I mean, she don’t look it, but she gotta be.”

  “Like I said, she ain’t old enough for me. I like my women seasoned. She’s salt and pepper, maybe a dash of paprika. I like ‘em with salt, pepper, paprika, Old Bay, garlic powder, Goya, muh-fuckin’ lemon pepper, cayenne pepper, and some Mrs. Dash. And she ain’t thick enough, either. Plus, you already know—”

  “Mr. Logan, I’m so glad you could help us out with the program,” her voice interrupted me. I didn’t realize she’d made it over to us. Damn, she smelled good.

  Polo nodded, licked his lips, and gave her a smile that I guess was supposed to be seductive but definitely wasn’t. “Call me Polo, and it’s no problem. I love the kids.”

  She returned his smile, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her mouth. Her lower lip was bigger than her top lip. I bet they taste good as hell.

  “And Mr. McClain, I want to especially thank you for agreein
g to help us out. I know you had every reason to back out of this commitment, and no one would blame you if you did,” she said.

  I raised my eyes from her lips to her up-turned, black-brown eyes. “It’s all good. I made a promise and I don’t break promises, Ms. Hampton. I’m looking forward to working with these kids, and I’m honored to get a personal thank you from the center’s director.”

  She blinked, and her eyes softened a little, losing the apprehension I’d initially seen in them. “I figured it was the least I could do since you are volunteering your time here. Well, let me introduce you gentlemen to our boys and then you two can get to it. Thanks again, Mr. McClain, Polo.”

  “No problem, Ms. Hampton,” I said.

  “You got it,” was Polo’s response.

  I watched as she walked away—okay, I actually watched her ass walk away from me. Damn! She was fine, like…for real. But anyway, she approached the thirty or so young men scattered on the basketball court then turned and shot another smile at me. “All right, I’m sure you boys know these gentlemen, or at least know of them, but I’d like to give you all a formal introduction to them. For the basketball camp portion of our summer program, you’ll be learning skills from some NBA players, including these two players from our own St. Louis Cyclones basketball team! First, we have Mr. Paul “Polo” Logan. Let’s welcome him!”

  The boys clapped and yelled for my current teammate and old college classmate and teammate.

  “And,” Kimberly Hampton continued, “a new Cyclone, formerly with the Heat, Mr. Leland McClain…let’s welcome him, too!”

  More applause and louder yells, or maybe that was what my ego heard, but anyway, it was a nice reception, and a minute or so later, when Polo and I separated the boys into two groups to begin teaching them the principals of basketball, I was wearing a smile.

  2

  I made my way back to my office, fell into the chair behind my desk, and stared at the mountain of papers and folders and phone message slips that were cluttering nearly every surface around me. Rihanna’s Work played in my head as I tried to decide what to tackle first—the grant proposal the fundraising consultant I’d hired had submitted for my review or the missed calls from the community center’s main—i.e., only—benefactor. Sighing, I grabbed my phone and dialed our benefactor’s number, hoping he was in a better mood than he was during our last conversation. He wasn’t, but the conversation wasn’t as bad as I anticipated, and after that duty was fulfilled, I dug into the grant proposal, then moved on to some PR stuff I needed to handle, was knee-deep in that paperwork when my cell began to buzz on my desk.

  I grinned at the name that danced on the screen. “Hello?”

  “Heyyyy! What you up to?”

  “Working, what else?”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot you like working there. I mean, you like…actually enjoy your job. You’re an anomaly if I ever saw one.”

  I shook my head, took a sip from the bottle of water that had gone from frigid to tepid over the course of the work day, and said, “My job is my calling just like singing is yours. Who doesn’t love their calling? Don’t you enjoy singing?”

  “I love it, but you should be somewhere sipping tropical drinks on a beach. You damn sure earned the right to take it easy. I don’t know why you don’t.”

  “Because, like I said, this is my calling. Now, I know you didn’t call me to harass me about my career choices for the millionth time. So, what’s up?”

  “Oh, yeah! I was calling to see if you needed a ride home from work today. You get off in a couple of hours, right?”

  “Uh, why would I need a ride? My car is new, Zabrina.”

  “I just thought maybe you did. Hey, how about I meet you there? We’re still going out for drinks and dinner and stuff tonight, right?”

  “Uh-huh, and you think you’re slick, don’t you? You remembered the NBA guys start helping out today, didn’t you?”

  “Is that today?! Girl, I got so much on my mind, I forgot all about that!”

  “Heifer, please. Your thirsty ass ain’t forgot nothing. You probably memorized the damn basketball camp schedule. I bet you know it better than I do.”

  “Whatever. So…is Leland McClain as fine in person as he is on Instagram and on TV? You know, he likes older women. I could be his sugar mama.”

  “No, you couldn’t with your broke ass, and do you think I have time to check him out like that with all the work I have to do around here?”

  “I think your ass is not blind. I mean, shit…as big and tall and fine as he is? Hell, he’s finer than Big South, and you know that’s a damn accomplishment. How can you possibly not notice how sexy he is?”

  “He was wearing basketball shorts and a Romey U t-shirt. He looked…athletic.”

  “And fine.”

  As hell. “I guess. But, uh…ain’t you got a man?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Sometimes? What kind of answer is that? Don’t you live with him?”

  “That’s debatable. So, did you see a print?”

  “Bye, Z.”

  “Damn, it must’ve been a huge print for you to be trying to hang up without wishing me a happy whatever-random-holiday-today-is. You know how you are about your holidays.”

  “Oh, yeah…happy Old Maid’s Day.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “What?! That’s an actual holiday!”

  “And that was an actual fuck you.”

  “Wow, okay. I love you, too, Z.”

  “Uh-huh…”

  “I do! And I wasn’t throwing shade. Hell, I’m older than you and I’ve never been married, either, and I don’t even have a man.”

  “But you’ve been engaged before.”

  “You really wanna take it there?”

  “My bad.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And as far as you not having a man, that’s by choice.”

  “I know.”

  “Mm-hmm…so, you sure you don’t need a ride or something else that will put me in the vicinity of Leland McClain?”

  “Bye, Z!”

  “Bye, ole cockblocking-ass woman.”

  I relaxed against the back of my chair and released the giggle I’d been suppressing while on the phone with my first cousin and best friend for life. Zabrina Norris was a nut but spot on with her analysis of Leland McClain. He was fine, extremely so—tall, as fit as any NBA player, gorgeous brown skin, dark eyes, big Colin Kaepernick afro that he kept pulled up in a man bun most of the time, thick mustache and beard. The facial hair made him look older, but he was young, and I was…me. The last thing me needed to do was get involved with any man, especially him. Not that he wanted me anyway.

  But whether I was his type or not, I damn sure could enjoy looking at him.

  *****

  I raised my arms and moved to the beat of Kendrick Lamar’s and SZA’s All the Stars, a song I’d grown obsessed with after watching Black Panther three times in the theater. Okay, I actually watched it five times. Anyway, this was my favorite thing to do after a day at a job that both stressed me completely out and satisfied my soul—cut loose with my girls and enjoy the good vibes that always seemed to envelop me when we hung out. And it didn’t hurt that Plush-St. Louis was one of my favorite clubs. A new addition to my city’s night life offerings and owned by a young black female entrepreneur, Plush was the embodiment of grown folks’ fun with a cover charge steep enough to keep the riff-raff out and live entertainment second to none. I loved Plush for the atmosphere and the music. It was nothing for me to hit the dancefloor with my girls and shake my booty, because I had learned years ago that I didn’t need a man on my arm to have fun. Zabrina, on the other hand…

  “He’s looking at you,” she whispered, once we returned to our table and all re-upped on our drinks. In attendance with us on this particular night was our cousin, Shelby, and her BFF, Constance. Our usual number five, Merry, had a man now and had basically gone AWOL on us unlike Zabrina, who gladly left her man at home.

&
nbsp; Rolling my head around to face the woman who was three years my junior and greatly resembled our grandmother from her smooth pecan skin and big round eyes to her huge breasts and sinfully thick body, I asked, “Who?”

  “Zaddy over there in the tailored suit. The one with the salt-and-pepper beard and the nice teeth.”

  I knew who she was referring to and had felt his eyes on me several times since we’d arrived, but since I had bedroom activities covered, I said, “So?”

  “So, what do you think?”

  I shrugged.

  “You are crazy, you know that? How can you be so disinterested in men?”

  “How can you be so obsessed with them?”

  “Because black men are damn fine and black dick is damn good.”

  “You need to take your ass home to your black man and his black dick.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That nigga ain’t—oh, shit! Here Zaddy comes!”

  My eyes widened as I glanced up to see that he was indeed headed in our direction. My mind raced with thoughts as I tried to think of what to do. Excuse myself to the restroom? Pretend to get a phone call? Take off running out the place? Anything but actually engage in conversation with this man, because that was never a good idea for me. With my track record, I needed to put out a restraining order against every living, breathing man on the planet. Like, for real.

  As luck would have it, I didn’t have to fake anything. My phone began to buzz in my hand, and as the silver fox approached, I made my escape, saying “Gotta take this,” to my tablemates and giving the approaching gentleman a little nod before heading toward the restroom where maybe I’d be able to escape the music thundering from the speakers so that I could hear the voice on the other end.

  “Hello?” I said breathily, as I stepped into the ladies’ room.

  “Hey, what you up to?”

  “I’m at Plush, but I’m willing to leave if I have a reason to.”