Page 28 of Surrender to Love

“And you thought this was an emergency? Hang up, call the shop, leave your message like you’re supposed to and don’t call this number again unless it’s an actual shop emergency.”

“Shiro…but… I’m just…”

“I’m not repeating myself. Good night, Matika.”

After ending the call, I just stare at the phone. What the fuck was she thinking? Annoyed as hell, I text Tre. He’s opening tomorrow, so I give him the heads up that Matika is going to be late.

Me: Matika going to be late in the AM

Tre: U still at the shop?

Me: No with bae.

Tre: And u checking the VMs?

Me: No. She called my cell

When he takes a minute to respond, I text again.

Me: Emergency contact sheet.

Tre: U want me to check her?

Me: I already did.

Tre: Bet

Still blown, I down my water and shake that shit off before walking out of the kitchen. My baby comes down the stairs looking sexy as hell and all thoughts of Matika and her bullshit stunt disappear. I can’t think about or see anything other than my fine ass baby. She loves to wear heels and I love to watch her in them. When Kyrah takes her last step down, I’m here to take her hand and pull her soft body into mine. I’m so obsessed with this woman, every inch of her.

“You’re ready?” she asks after lifting her eyes to mine.

“For you, baby, I’m always ready, but I need you to be ready for me after dinner.”

Her head tilts to the side slightly then her pretty smile appears. “And what exactly do you need me to be ready for?”

“I want you to keep your heels on for me,” I admit.

After pursing her lips, she says, “I think I can make that happen.”

“Good ’cause I want to make them touch behind your head.”

“What? Um…I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Trust yo’ man. It’s possible as hell. I can just see the shit in my head and it’s beautiful,” I say and she laughs.

“Beautiful? Shiro, I’m going to need a whole gallon of water to be flexible enough to do that. Please, you better see something else.”

“Nah, don’t try to fuck up my artistic vision. That gift is hereditary,” I say and she really laughs.

Shaking her head, clearly peeping my bullshit, she says, “I swear. If it’s hereditary, why am I just now hearing about this artistic gift of yours?”

“It comes and goes. Don’t question it.” After pressing my body into hers, I add, “Plus, I’m an artist and I’m sensitive as hell ’bout my shit.”

“I’m ignoring you.”

“A’ight. Wait till them heels up. You’ll see,” I tell her, then kiss her lips.

We leave the house through the kitchen and enter the garage. Since she has on a new pair of heels, she insists that we take her ride to avoid her pebbled walkway. Of course, I drive, but with one hand. The other rubs her exposed, thick ass thigh.