Higher Love Read online

  “But then I wouldn’t be able to see your beautiful face.”

  I grabbed my purse. “Screw this.”

  “Wait! I need to know if you forgive me. I-I need you to forgive me...for everything.”

  I frowned and leaned back in my seat. “What?”

  “I’m supposed to get married soon, but I don’t think I can do it with this unfinished business hanging over my head, Greer. I need to hear you say you forgive me.”

  I tilted my head to the side and scoffed. “You’re having second thoughts.”

  “I didn’t say that—”

  “But that’s it. You messed up and now you’re feeling it. Well, you shouldn’t have gotten her pregnant while you were still with me!” The couple at the table next to ours was gawking at me, but I didn’t care.

  “Can you keep your voice down?” he asked, embarrassment and shock shrouding his face.

  “Couldn’t you keep your thing in your pants?”

  “Okay, I deserved that.”

  “You deserve worse.”

  “How do you know about the baby?”

  “Don’t worry about how I know.”

  “Greer, I—”

  “You know what? I don’t forgive your sleazy ass. You were sleeping with us both and you got her pregnant, which means you weren’t using any protection with Tami. If I had fallen for that we’re-engaged-and-you’re-on-birth-control-so-we-don’t-need-to-use-condoms crap you tried to pull, there’s no telling what disease you might have given me. Or worse, my ass could be pregnant and chained to you for the next eighteen years! The hell is wrong with you?”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t have met in such a public place...”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be such an ass.”

  “Greer, I still love you.”

  “Oh, what a coincidence. I still love my damn self. As a matter of fact, I love myself enough to leave right now and never look back.” I shot to my feet, purse in hand. “Go to hell, Lloyd Ray Robinson, and never, ever contact me again.”

  “Greer—”

  I made my exit without giving him a backwards glance.

  *****

  “How was the literary festival?” Derek asked as I held the phone with one hand and dug through my refrigerator with the other. I was hungry but needed to buy groceries. I’d been ordering take-out for weeks, and I was quite frankly tired of spending so much money. I actually enjoyed cooking but despised the grocery store.

  I sighed, glanced at the dozen roses in my trash can—a gift Lloyd had delivered to my apartment, the only contact he’d made in the two weeks since our little meeting—and left the kitchen when I realized my search for food was fruitless. As I plopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling, I said, “It was great. Those readers know how to party.”

  “Good. I’m glad you had a good time. I trust your flights were comfortable?”

  “Yes, Mr. Hill. The flights, the limo, and the hotel were all great. I can’t wait for you to read my blog. I’m even including a video tour of the jet.”

  “Really? I’d love to see that.”

  “Yeah, I think I’m going to start doing some vlogs. They’re pretty popular now.”

  “Sounds like a great idea. So, what did you have for dinner?”

  “Nothing yet? You?”

  “Nothing for me either. I’m working late, probably have something delivered. What do you have a taste for?”

  “Why? You gonna come cook for me?”

  “I wish I could. I make a mean boiled hot dog.”

  I chuckled. “Hmm, well, I don’t have a taste for a hot dog, but I’d love to have a huge burger from The Kitchen Sink.”

  “The Kitchen Sink?”

  “Yeah, their slogan is, ‘We put everything in our burgers including the kitchen sink.’”

  He laughed. “I see. What’s your favorite thing to eat there?”

  “The meatloaf burger is too good for words. Damn, I wish they delivered. I don’t feel like going out to get it.”

  “If I was there, I’d bring you one.”

  “If you brought me one, I’d definitely show you my appreciation.”

  “Really? How?”

  “Hmm, I’d strip you...”

  “Yeah...”

  “And kiss you...”

  “Would you?”

  “Mm-hmm. And lick you...”

  “Where?”

  “Wherever you want me to.”

  “Shit!”

  “What?”

  “I’ve got another call, baby. I’ve got to go. Hey, I’m gonna come see you next week if that’s okay with you.”

  “It’s more than okay.”

  After we ended the call, I lay in bed thinking of Derek, my body on fire. In teasing him, I’d messed myself up, but I was too tired and famished to do anything about it.

  Two hours later, I was still in the exact same spot on my bed, having fallen asleep. When my eyes popped open, I wasn’t sure what awakened me. It took me a full two minutes to recognize the sound that had ripped me from my sleep as knocking at my door. I climbed out of bed and shuffled to the door, knowing it was either Denise or Trevia, since they were the only people who ever visited me. Maybe they’d finally decided to respect me enough not to just use their keys and barge in on me. Still, it could’ve been another delivery from Lloyd, but if that was the case, I was going to be pissed the hell off at having my sleep disturbed for that crap.

  “Who is it?!” I yelled through the door, unable to see anyone through the peephole.

  “Delivery for Ms. Kennedy.”

  I rolled my eyes, deciding I was going to call and curse Lloyd out as soon as possible. I snatched the door open and clamped my hand over my mouth at the sight of a gorgeous man in a three-piece suit standing before me holding a huge plastic sack from The Kitchen Sink. “Derek? I thought you were in Houston.”

  He closed the space between us and softly kissed my lips. “I was. Decided to bring you dinner. Now what was that about kissing and licking?”

  I smiled as I led him into my home.

  Once inside, I put the food in the kitchen and joined him in the living room where he was perusing the photos of me, my friends, and my parents on the end table. I stepped behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I whispered.

  He placed his hands on my arms and leaned against me. “So am I. I missed you.” He turned to face me. “Ready to eat?”

  I shook my head. “I need to repay you first.”

  He grinned. “Okay...”

  I kissed him lightly on the lips and then fell to my knees before him, freeing him of his pants and underwear. His erect penis bounced in front of my face. I held it in my hand, wrapped my lips around the head, and gently suckled. I felt Derek’s hand on the back of my head, heard him whisper, “Baby...”

  I lavished the length of him with my tongue before taking him into my hot mouth. Massaging his shaft with my hand, I slid him in and out of my mouth while swirling my tongue around and around him. His agonizing moans filled the room as he swayed a bit, steadily growing louder, coarser. A few minutes later, he moved backwards, causing his shaft to slip from my mouth. He reached for my hand and helped me to my feet, kissed me, and murmured, “My turn,” then led me to the couch where he kneeled before me and spread my legs. I closed my eyes as he slid his tongue over my bud. As he tortured me with his tongue while slipping a finger into my wetness, I gripped his head and fought not to scream.

  When I thought I could take no more, he stopped, stood over me, and said, “Come here, baby.”

  I got to my feet on weak-as-hell legs, almost too spent to go any further, but he was not done with me. As he lifted me from the floor, I wrapped my legs around him and sucked in a breath when he penetrated me and began to thrust deeper and deeper.

  I clawed at his back, screamed, “Derek!”

  “Ah! Greer!”

  I closed my eyes as the pressure inside of me built to the point of no return. When I felt my walls b
egin to quiver, I screamed, “Baby!”

  “I know,” he grunted. “Me too, baby…”

  *****

  Two hours slid by before we got around to eating the burgers Derek brought. The good thing about The Kitchen Sink’s burgers is they tasted just as good reheated as they did fresh off the griddle. We sat on the floor, half-clothed and exhausted from getting reacquainted. Or at least I was exhausted. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen Derek tired or not raring to go when it came to sex. I deduced he was one man who had taken very good care of his body.

  “How did you get my address? From Millie?” I asked, as I tossed my empty burger rapper onto the coffee table and lay on my side appraising this man who seemed to have memorized my body and innately knew my deepest desires.

  “No, you gave it to me.”

  I frowned slightly. “Really? I don’t remember giving it to you. When did this happen?”

  “In your hotel room in Houston, the night after that first meeting. I seem to recall your legs being on my shoulders, and I think your exact words were: ‘My name is Greer Charlene Kennedy, I was born on August seventh, I live at 1808 Arturo Boulevard in apartment 38C in Dallas, Texas, and I swear before God this pussy is yours!’”

  I dropped my eyes for a brief moment. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

  He nodded and after taking a sip of soda, said, “Yeah, and since I’ve never had that happen before, it was hard to forget.”

  “So embarrassing...”

  “No need to be embarrassed, but I do want to know if you meant it. Is it mine, Greer?”

  “Mr. Hill, you’ve put your stamp, your brand, and your seal on it. It’s definitely yours.”

  “I don’t know if I believe that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not like you told me your favorite color, favorite song, favorite movie, food, shoe size, credit score…”

  I smirked. “Really?”

  “Just saying.”

  “Okay, yellow, A Long Walk by Jill Scott, Love Jones, corn dogs with copious amounts of mustard, eight and a half, and you’re gonna have to work for the credit score.”

  “Work for it, huh?”

  “Yep. Now are you convinced that it’s yours?”

  “Yeah, I think I am, and you oughta know for damn sure you own every part of me.”

  “Really?”

  “Really, baby.”

  “All right, well, quid pro quo, Mr. Hill—color, song, movie, food, shoe size, credit score.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, I guess that’s fair. Color: black. Song: Fortunate, of course.”

  I nodded. “Of course. After all, that’s your shit.”

  “Yes, that is indeed my shit. Movie: Blue Hill Avenue, food: steak, shoe—”

  “That’s enough. I’m convinced. No need in giving me the shoe size, because I know you wear some big ass shoes to go along with that big ol’ thing between your legs.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Well, thank you, baby.”

  I smiled and scooted closer to where he was seated with his back against my sofa and rested my head on his lap. “Mm, I love that you’re here.”

  “Me, too.”

  “So...you’ve seen my home in all its loud, IKEA-furnished glory. When do I get to see yours, Mr. Hill?”

  After a moment of silence, he softly said, “Soon, baby. Soon.”

  24

  It felt strange sitting in the waiting area of the doctor’s office with Sasha. To everyone around us, we must’ve looked like an expectant couple, albeit an unhappy one. I could feel my brow in a constant furrow, and I could see Sasha out of the corner of my eye wringing her hands in her lap. She was nervous, probably afraid the baby wasn’t mine, afraid the money train would end before it really began. If I didn’t learn anything else from Sasha Porter in the six months we dated, I learned that she loved money, expensive gifts, and being on the arm of someone who could give those things to her.

  We met at a Christmas party at my office. She was working as a temp at the time, but for some reason I never saw her around the office until that party. She was gorgeous in a red, figure-hugging dress with her honey-colored hair swept to one side contrasting flawless, deep mahogany skin. She had a bubbly personality and an infectious smile. For a while we were good. But while I consider myself a generous man, I couldn’t deal with the little hints she started dropping about pieces of jewelry or purses she wanted, or her constantly complaining about her bills. I began feeling like a walking dollar sign when I was around her. And then she cheated on me. Crazy thing is, I actually caught her in the act so to speak. I went over to her place to surprise her with an early dinner date and there the guy was, leaving just as I pulled up to her house, kissing her right in the doorway. I was pissed, mostly because I’d never cheated on her. I’d always been a one-woman man like my pops. So, I dumped her, didn’t hear from her again until she showed up at my doorstep homeless and pregnant two months later. I took her in, because I’m a good person, not because I loved her or ever had.

  Greer was a different story.

  We hadn’t known each other that long, but I knew what I felt for Greer was well beyond the scope of like. It was honestly a feeling I’d never felt before, a feeling I couldn’t adequately describe even if I was forced to at gunpoint. I just knew it felt good, better than anything I’d ever experienced, and I couldn’t get enough or too much of it.

  “Ms. Porter?” a nurse called.

  Sasha dragged her eyes from her hands to my face. “I don’t want to do this, and I don’t have to.”

  “No, you don’t have to, but I need you to. I need to know. I deserve to know either way, so I can go on with my life.”

  “You sure are in a hurry to be rid of me.”

  I patted the chest pocket of my suit. “If you want this check, you need to get up and go take that test.”

  She sighed and stood from her seat. “I hope whoever has you acting like this with me knows what a cold, unloving person you are and how you’re trying to avoid taking responsibility for your child,” she hissed.

  I shook my head as I watched her follow the nurse through a door that quickly closed behind them. Twenty minutes later, I heard my name being called. It was my turn to provide a sample for the test.

  25

  After taking two trips as a Sable Jets partner, I was getting spoiled, but I suppose private jet rides, limo service, and luxury hotel rooms will do that. This deal beat using frequent flyer miles any day. I was truly enjoying the lushness of both my business life and my personal life. Nearly five months had passed since we first met in Virginia, and Derek and I were spending as much time as possible together with him traveling to Dallas nearly every weekend I was home. I loved being with him, exploring parts of my town with him, sharing my bed with him. Sure, he was a gorgeous man, but what I loved most about him was his heart and the way he treated me, the attention he showered me with. He was a man in every sense of the word, but he was also kind and gentle and so loving.

  Loving.

  Love.

  Derek was becoming synonymous with those words, but I’d be lying if I said the heaviness of what I felt for him didn’t frighten me. It petrified me because of the potential pain that would result from a break up. I’d been bruised by Lloyd’s betrayal, and what I felt for him was nowhere as intense as what I was feeling for Derek. Lloyd was kind to me, but he was also somewhat detached. There was no real passion between us but rather a comfortable togetherness. We weren’t all that compatible but agreed to disagree on lots of things. I had mistakenly seen Lloyd as a safe bet—steady, grounded, loyal. But Derek? He was much more than that to me. Derek was desire incarnate. Derek and I burned hot, scorching hot, and I thirsted for him. Without him, there would be a void inside of me that I wasn’t sure anyone else could fill. How in the world would I ever recover if we didn’t work out?

  Speaking of Lloyd, I’d heard no more from him after our meeting and the lone delivery of flowers, thank goodness. According to Trevi
a, who had finally crawled out of hiding but refused to explain her disappearance, he and Tami were now married. All I could do was shrug. I honestly didn’t care. How could I when I had Derek?

  Derek.

  I missed him although it had only been a few days since we were together. As I turned and gazed out the window of the sleek jet on my way to an event in New York, I fully realized and finally admitted to myself that I was totally and completely in love with Derek Dwight Hill, and I loved the way it felt.

  I arrived at the venue a few minutes early to find the red carpet empty and wondered if I’d gotten the time wrong. Was I that early? The invitation I’d received via email was to a private premiere screening of the newest Will Smith movie. It didn’t fit with my festival theme, but I wasn’t a damn fool. I wasn’t turning down an opportunity like this.

  I was dressed in a tiny black cocktail dress and silver stilettos, and had hired a local make-up artist to beat my face into submission. I fully expected to be met by a crowd of screaming fans, flashing cameras, bustling reporters, and throngs of celebrities. But...nothing. Only an empty red carpet. I stared out the window in utter confusion, wondered if this was some practical joke. Was someone going to jump out of a dark corner with a camera and eventually plaster startled images of the Nubian Nomad being made a fool of all over the Internet? I wasn’t sure what to do.

  When the driver opened the door for me, I stepped out and asked, “Are you sure this is the right place?”

  He nodded. “Yes, positive. This is the Gerwich Theater.”

  I sighed and checked the time on my cell phone. Perhaps I’d misunderstood when I was supposed to arrive, misread the invitation and arrived late rather than early. I decided to go inside, head straight to the ladies’ room, and try to figure out what to do. Maybe I could slide into the back of the theater if need be. I had to try to make this work. After all, I didn’t travel to New York to stay in my hotel room.

  I walked the empty red carpet and one of the huge, ornate theater doors swung open. At first I thought it opened on its own, then I noticed the gentleman dressed as an old-time theater usher complete with a pillbox hat holding the door. He gave me a smile and a little bow. “Welcome.”