Читать книгу Pride and Consequence - AlTonya Washington - Страница 7

Although Badu’s never opened until 3:00 p.m., Malik always arrived at 8:00 a.m. His routine was practically the same each day. Before heading upstairs to his office, he went to the kitchen for a morning meeting with the chefs. The cooking staff of eight arrived even earlier than their boss, despite the fact that ingredients for the day’s menu had already been prepared. The staff never departed without having the necessary supplies for the following business day chopped, chilled and marinated.

Everyone immediately came to attention when they saw Malik. Though the employees of Badu’s admired and respected the forceful young man, they often wished he wasn’t so demanding.

“Just a heads-up. We’re going to be hosting a charity dinner for cancer research a couple weeks before Christmas,” Malik declared at the end of the meeting, already shrugging into the stylish tan suede suit coat he had thrown across a chair. “I should have more specifics soon, but there will be plenty of time for you guys to get prepared.”

The eight chefs exchanged weary looks across the table. They had no problems being on hand for the charity event. It was the time leading up to the dinner they could have done without. Their boss could become more than demanding, he could be almost tyrannical.

“I won’t be working with you on the event, Zakira will,” Malik announced, sensing the chefs’ relief without even looking at their faces.

No one at the table could mask their joy. The boss’s wife would provide a refreshing change from her brooding, unyielding husband.

“It’s not that we dislike working closely with you, you understand?”

Malik grinned. “Sure I do, Jo Jo.” He wasn’t offended.

Malik never apologized for running a tight ship. He felt his people respected him more for it and believed that respect made his restaurant the success that it was.

“So, when is she gonna start coming in, Malik?”

“Well—” Malik began, a smile coming to his face, when he looked toward the rear of the dining room. “Speak of the devil. There she is.”

Zakira was slightly breathless as she hurriedly approached the table. “Sorry guys, I wanted to get here before the end of your meeting. Do y’all have a few minutes?”

“Sure, Zakira!”

“Have a seat, darlin’.”

“Can I get you some coffee?”

Malik rolled his eyes and reclined in his chair as he watched the eight stiff-lipped men fawn over his wife. Of course, he could never blame them. Zakira brought out something bright in each of his employees. He believed they would work round the clock for her if she asked them to.

“I’m fine,” Zakira was assuring the chefs, as she set her maroon cashmere wrap on a vacant chair. “This won’t take long. I just wanted to discuss a couple of things with you all. Did Malik tell you guys about the dinner?” she asked, watching everyone smile and nod.

“Great,” she said, already reaching into the oversized black leather tote she carried.

Malik’s smoldering charcoal-gray stare never strayed from his wife as she discussed menu ideas and timelines with his employees. He admired the ease with which she handled the group of finicky chefs. When they began to discuss the particulars, he stood and took Zakira’s elbow in a light hold.

“I’m gonna head on up to the office, unless you need me to stay,” he said, brushing his hand against the soft clinging cashmere of her pearl gray dress.

Zakira coolly extracted her arm from Malik’s grasp, feeling her entire body tingle scandalously in response to the sweet gesture. “Mmm-mmm,” she replied, with a quick shake of her head. “I’ll be fine.”

He smiled and turned to the table. “Talk to you guys later.” He could feel Zakira’s eyes linger a bit longer than necessary on his departing figure before she forced her eyes back to the page she held.

Before he exited the dining room, he turned to cast one last look at her. The sight of his wife taking an active role in his business pleased him more than she would ever know.

The annoying beep of the intercom pierced the silence of the spacious corner office. Malik slammed his fist against the talk button with such force the machine jumped off the desk.

“What is it, Chanel?” he barked. Reading invoices and recipes, and going over the books for the better part of the morning, had taken a fierce toll on his mood.

“Sorry to bother you, Malik, but Tree’s out here to see you,” Chanel Levy informed her boss.

“Sorry, Chanel. It’s all right. Send him in,” Malik instructed, tossing the paperwork aside as he leaned back in his chair.

A slight frown crossed his dark face when his best friend and lawyer Trekel Grisani walked into the office. “What’s wrong?” Malik asked the moment the door closed.

Tree’s long black lashes closed over his dark eyes as he shook his head. “Everything’s fine, man,” he assured his friend.

Malik visibly relaxed and leaned back a little further in the brown leather chair. “So what’s up? I don’t usually get visits from lawyers in the middle of the day.”

Tree grinned, lowering his massive frame into one of the chairs before the wide desk. “You got a problem with me coming by?”

Malik shrugged. “Nah. You want me to have somethin’ sent up from the kitchen?”

Tree waved his hand and grimaced. “Thanks, I’m cool.” He propped the side of his face against his palm and waited. When Malik remained silent, he sighed. “I think we’ve done enough small talk, man.”

Malik’s heavy brows drew close. “Small talk?” he repeated, purposely misunderstanding.

Tree expelled a frustrated sigh and leaned forward. “Man, will you please give it up? Have you heard anything from Doctor McNeil?”

At Tree’s mention of the doctor’s name, Malik instantly tensed. “I only saw him two days ago,” he murmured, his deep voice raspy with aggravation.

Tree pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. “All right, so it’s been two days. Shouldn’t they have the results from your tests by now?”

Malik pounded his fist against his thigh. “I doubt it.” He sighed.

“I don’t understand why it’s taking so long,” Tree complained.

In spite of his foul mood, Malik managed to laugh. “We are talkin’ about cancer here, man. I think Doctor McNeil wants to be sure when he tells me I’m about to die.”

Tree realized how unnerving the situation was for his friend. He suddenly regretted having mentioned anything about the tests. “I think you’re overreacting now, Mal.”

“I’m not so sure after what happened,” Malik admitted, shaking his head.

Tree’s long brows drew together as a frown further darkened his extremely handsome face. “What happened with what?”

Malik rubbed one hand through his dreads and stared out the office window that overlooked downtown Richmond. “Zakira’s been having a dream for the last few weeks. She finally told me that all she can see is a man laid out in black, surrounded by candles.”

Tree’s brows rose expectantly. “And?”

Malik turned and shot Tree a murderous glare. “Hell, man, that could be me laid out dead.”

A smile brightened Tree’s handsome face. “Man, I think you’re letting this get to you too much.”

Malik turned back to the windows and braced his hands on the dark paneled sill. “We both know that could be me. The only thing missing is the casket.”

“Mal,” Tree cautioned, but even he found it somewhat unsettling.

A few days later, Zakira opened the door and her smile widened at the sight of her stepsister. “Cold?” she teased the woman standing there with her arms wrapped around her slender form, shivering.

Edwina Harris rolled her almond-shaped eyes to the overcast sky before she rushed past Zakira and hurried into the living room where there was a fireplace.

“Dammit, Z,” she groaned, stomping one stylish, hiking boot shod foot to the carpet. “Why haven’t you made a fire yet, girl?”

Zakira stared at Edwina for a moment, a dumbfounded expression on her face. Then she slapped her hands against her sides. “I never thought about it.”

“Do you have any idea how cold it is outside?” Eddie calmly inquired, propping one hand on her slender hip.

Zakira shook her head and walked over to take her stepsister by the hand. “I’ve been in the kitchen all morning. Come on, I’ll fix you some coffee.”

Eddie held back. “Make it tea and you’ve got a deal.”

“No problem,” Zakira obliged, leading the way down the carpeted hallway.

The moment Eddie stepped past the arched doorway of the kitchen, her eyes closed and a serene smile crossed her lips. “Mmm…what are you making?”

Zakira’s expression was filled with pride as she listened to her sister marvel over the fabulous smells wafting in the air. “What does it smell like?” she teased.

Eddie shot her a wicked glare. “It smells like something I want a piece of.”

Zakira clasped her hands and rushed to the cupboard to retrieve a plate. A fantastic cook, like her husband, she always relished the chance to show off her culinary talents. Edwina, of course, didn’t mind sampling the dishes.

“What is it?” Eddie asked, watching Zakira scoop out what appeared to be a miniature pie.

A surprised expression touched Zakira’s face as she set a fork on the side of the plate. “I know you’ve had chicken potpie before.”

Edwina nodded, accepting the plate. “I have, but none that ever smelled like this,” she whispered, breaking the pie’s flaky crust with her fork. A delighted gasp escaped her mouth when chunks of potatoes, carrots and chicken tumbled onto the plate.

“That’s because I use fresh ingredients and the crust is seasoned,” Zakira revealed smugly.

“Mmm,” Eddie sighed, when she tasted the delicious creation. “With what?”

Zakira took a plate from the cupboard and served herself. “Herbs from our garden out back.”

“Well, it’s delicious,” Eddie complimented.

Bowing her head, Zakira acknowledged the compliment. “Thanks. So, um, what brings you by today?” she asked. Hearing Edwina’s long, dramatic sigh, she already knew the answer.

“Men,” Eddie breathed.

Zakira shook her head as she listened to Edwina lament over her latest poor choice. Not wanting to treat her stepsister’s problems lightly, Zakira still found it all somewhat amusing. When most people saw Edwina Harris, they figured she had her life in perfect order.

Besides having her own medical practice, Edwina was a leggy twenty-eight-year-old with a model’s looks. She wore her hair in a boyish cut that flattered her lovely, dark face. The full lips and almond-shaped hazel eyes gave her a captivating exotic appearance. Men were drawn to her like helpless puppets. Unfortunately, these “puppets” usually turned out to be toads. Toads, who took Eddie through one trial or another.

“I mean, I just can’t believe I fell for his crap.”

Zakira lifted another forkful of the delicious chicken potpie to her lips and savored the taste. “I’m going to make my usual suggestion, but I don’t expect you to take advantage of it.”

Eddie sat up straighter on the bar stool in front of the kitchen island and waited.

“Give all this dating a rest for a while. Stop looking so hard, and maybe the right man will find you.”

Edwina rolled her eyes toward the ceiling in response.

Zakira took a sip of her tea. “Why don’t you put more time into your work? That couldn’t hurt.”

“That’s the last thing I need to do.”

“Eddie, what the hell is wrong with you?” Zakira finally snapped.

“Z, you keep forgetting I’m a sex therapist. Now, if I’m gonna take a break from dating, sex is the last thing I want on my mind.”

Zakira tried to keep her smile from breaking through, but she failed. In seconds, both she and Edwina were laughing uncontrollably.

“Well, what about this?” Zakira said with a sigh, once the high-pitched giggles lost some of their zeal. “Come to our charity dinner at the end of the month.”

Edwina’s lovely face looked blank. “What does a charity dinner have to do with my dating situation?”

“Nothing, and that’s why I think you should come. Not to meet anyone. Just get out and enjoy some good food and stimulating conversation for a good cause. Not to mention the, um, hundred-dollar-a-plate dinner.”

Edwina choked on her tea. “I knew there was a catch. You ain’t right, Z.”

Zakira tried to hide her smile. One look at Edwina’s face made her burst into laughter again. Of course, Eddie couldn’t help but follow suit.

“Now, you drive safe and remember what I said,” Zakira told Eddie a few hours later as they shared a tight hug.

Edwina relished her sister’s embrace a moment longer before pulling away. “I’ll try. And don’t forget to send me my invitation!” she called, already sprinting down the porch steps.

Zakira shook her head and watched Eddie race toward her car.

The phone rang the moment Zakira twisted the front door lock. She rushed into the living room to answer before the machine clicked on.

“Zakira Badu.”

“Yes, ma’am, may I speak with Malik Badu?”

“He’s not here right now. May I take a message?”

“Mrs. Badu, this is Doctor Sedrick McNeil. I will just try reaching Malik. I’ll try his office.”

A faint frown formed on Zakira’s face. “Oh, uh, all right,” she managed.

The connection broke soon after, but she still clutched the receiver. Malik didn’t tell me he had a new doctor.

“Oh, Malik, wait!”

“What is it, Chanel?” Malik said, grimacing as he pulled off the heavy jacket.

Chanel hurried down the hall. “A Doctor McNeil called. He wants you to get in touch with him.” She handed her boss a pink message slip.

For a moment, Malik was sure his heart had stopped beating. He noticed Chanel watching him strangely and ordered himself to get hold of his emotions.

“Thanks. I’ll make the call from my office.”

Chanel only nodded, her hazel eyes tinged with worry.

Malik tossed his jacket to the sofa and headed to his desk. Not wanting to prolong the inevitable, he picked up the phone and entered the necessary digits.

“Doctor McNeil’s office,” a perky voice greeted after the first ring.

Malik hesitated for a moment, and then cleared his throat. “This is Malik Badu I’m returning Doctor McNeil’s call.”

“Oh, Mr. Badu,” the secretary sighed. “Doctor McNeil asked if you wouldn’t mind coming in.”

Malik’s long lashes fell over his eyes. He almost demanded to be told at that moment, but managed to keep a lid on his temper.

“I’ll be there within the hour.”

In an effort to forget Dr. McNeil’s mysterious call, Zakira decided to make another sinful dish. This time, she selected a recipe for fudge-ripple-swirled cookies. She always added her own special touches to any dish that wasn’t her invention. It was the mark of a true cook, her mother always said. Unfortunately, Zakira was so preoccupied by the call that her usual creativity was somewhat hampered. And it was amazing that the cookies were ever ready for the oven. Zakira could not stop herself from looking out the window each time she heard a car pass. Several times, she found herself staring at the phone and wishing Malik would call.

Of course, the doctor’s call could have easily been something routine. If only it weren’t for the other inconsistencies in Malik’s behavior. Zakira knew she wouldn’t feel at ease until she spoke with her husband.

The delicious cookies didn’t take long to bake. When they were done, she rushed upstairs to change her clothes. The waiting and wondering had finally gotten the better of her. In half an hour, she was leaving for the restaurant.

“Zakira! Honey, I was just asking Malik if you were coming in this week.”

A suspicious smirk touched Zakira’s lips as she watched the older man at her side. “Why? More suggestions concerning the menu?”

Head chef Carlos Hamils gave the boss’s beautiful wife a knowing stare. “I’m done making any more changes. I know the organizers of the event have it hard enough without having my dedication to perfection getting in the way.”

Zakira pressed her hand to Carlos’s shoulder. “We really appreciate it,” she whispered.

Carlos round, dark gaze was already focusing on the basket Zakira carried. “So what have you got there?”

“Damn, you don’t miss a thing,” she remarked, having forgotten her reason for stopping by the kitchen.

“Nothin’ gets by this,” Carlos told her, pointing towards his long, angular nose. “So tell me what you’ve been mixing up in the kitchen. And don’t tell me you’re about to stop sharing ideas.”

Zakira threw her head back and laughed. “Please! I’m the one who should be asking you to share ideas.”

Carlos pressed his hand to his chest and sighed. “You’re so good for my ego.”

“Mmm-hmm. Well, I did bring something for you guys,” Zakira revealed, lifting the basket she carried.

“I knew it. What is it?” Carlos inquired, already taking the package.

Zakira clasped her gloved hands together. “They’re chicken potpies. I used herbs from my garden to season the pastry. The vegetables are fresh, and the chicken has been marinated in an herb sauce, also courtesy of my garden.”

Carlos closed his eyes in happiness. “I can’t wait to dive in.”

“Well, there’s enough for you and the rest of the guys, so let me know what you think. We’ll meet Friday morning to discuss some other things pertaining to the charity dinner.”

Carlos saluted her and headed farther into the kitchen with his delicious burden. Zakira smiled and relished the welcome vibe she received whenever she visited the restaurant. She had always felt a sense of acceptance from the Badu’s employees and since she’d started organizing the cancer fund-raiser, she’d experienced an even deeper sense of acceptance. The staff truly seemed to enjoy working with her on the event and they respected her opinions and ideas.

Zakira sighed before heading upstairs.

“Zakira!” Chanel called, a bright smile on her face. “If you’re looking for Malik, he left.”

“Damn,” Zakira muttered, setting her purse on Chanel’s desk. “Did he tell you where he was going?”

Chanel shook her head. “Sorry, he didn’t.”

“Do you know when he might be back?”

“I’m sorry, he really didn’t tell me anything before he left.”

Realizing she would just have to wait it out, Zakira spent a little while longer at the restaurant, then headed home.

As Zakira was leaving Malik’s office, he was arriving at the doctor’s. He shut the door to his black SUV, but leaned against the car instead of walking away from it. He knew none of what he would hear that day would be good. He stroked the strong line of his jaw for a moment, thinking of how his life was about to change. Then, taking a deep breath, he headed into the building.

Dr. McNeil was in the lobby speaking with his receptionist. He turned when the lobby doors opened.

“Malik! Glad you could make it on such short notice.”

Malik’s dark eyes narrowed, and he gave the doctor a humorless smirk. “Why prolong it?”

Dr. McNeil gestured in the direction of his office. “This way.”

Malik’s stride was rapid but steady as he followed the doctor. When the double oak-paneled office doors closed behind them, he turned and spread his hands. “Well?”

Dr. McNeil headed toward his desk. “Have a seat, Malik.”

With a grimace, Malik watched as the doctor calmly took his position. He followed suit, choosing one of the cushioned chairs in front the wide pine desk. “How long have I got?”

“Malik…” Dr. McNeil faltered, trying to find the right words.

“Listen, Doc, can you please just get to it?”

Dr. McNeil studied him for a moment. Then, sighing, he removed his round, gold-rimmed spectacles and leaned forward. “The mass of tissue we discovered after the scan is a tumor. The tests showed that it’s malignant.”

Though Malik had assumed as much, the news was a shock. He felt a strange tightening in his chest, as though his breath were being shut off. Bowing his head, he buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“This isn’t the end of things, Malik. There are treatments.” Dr. McNeil informed him.

Malik leaned back in the chair and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “How did this happen?”

Dr. McNeil frowned. “The tumor?”

Malik nodded.

“Well, it’s difficult to say,” the doctor replied. “Actually, the cause of tumors is unknown.”

Malik pushed his tall, athletic form out of the chair and paced the floor. “Dammit, you’ve got to have some clue!” he snapped.

“Malik, a lot of money and time has gone into studying tumors and their causes, but there’s still no concrete piece of evidence that gives a satisfactory explanation. Studies have shown that cancer can be caused by viruses, forms of radiant energy, even heredity.”

Malik shook his head and pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. “This hasn’t happened to anyone else in my family.”

“There’s always a first,” Dr. McNeil quietly pointed out.

“Thanks,” Malik replied dryly, rolling his intense dark gaze towards the ceiling.

“There is the possibility of surgery,” Dr. McNeil suggested.

“No way. No surgery.” Malik firmly refused, his slanting eyes narrowing further.

Dr. McNeil stood behind his desk, obviously surprised by Malik’s attitude. “You do realize that this could save your life?”

Malik waved his finger at the doctor. “Yeah, well, what if something goes wrong with the surgery, what then? This is my brain we’re talking about. Can you guarantee that if I survive the surgery I’ll be all there, mentally?”

Dr. McNeil sighed. “No, I can’t. There is always a risk when surgery is involved.”

“Well, Doc, that’s a risk I don’t want to take.”

“Malik—”

“Doc, please.” Malik interrupted, raising his hand. The stress of the moment had finally gotten the better of him and he dropped to the windowsill and sat there holding his head. “Believe it or not, all this scares the hell out of me. But surgery scares me more than the tumor.”

“Malik, I can understand how this might be affecting you, but you should keep a positive outlook on this. The operation could very well be a success.”

Malik’s voice was slightly muffled beneath his hands covering his face. “I can’t let Zakira see me that way, stuck in a bed. And I can’t let her see me die.”

By eight o’clock that evening, Zakira’s nerves were in overdrive. After leaving Badu’s, she took a long drive, did some Christmas shopping and visited a few friends. Feeling a little better, she decided to go home. When she called the restaurant and discovered Malik was not there, nor had he been home, she became worried again. Trying to keep an open mind, she washed her hair and braided the thick mass into two pigtails which she wrapped around her head. She even cleaned the already immaculate house in an attempt to keep from fretting over the whereabouts of her husband. So much activity eventually exhausted her, and she collapsed on the sofa for a short nap.

Malik’s key scratched the lock some thirty minutes after Zakira fell asleep. He entered the house quietly, not wanting to frighten her if she was still awake. The tense, guarded look in his dark eyes turned softer when he found his wife fast asleep in the living room. He crept across the thick carpet so he would not awaken her. Easing his heavy frame to the sofa, he took a seat next to her.

Malik’s exquisite charcoal gaze roamed Zakira’s face as though he were trying to memorize her lovely features. Very lightly, he traced the soft line of her brow and Zakira instantly awoke.

Frowning a little, Zakira got her bearings before glancing up. When she saw Malik leaning over her, she bolted up on the sofa. Her small fingers, curled around the lapels of his suede jacket and jerked him close to her.

“Where have you been all day? Why didn’t you call me?” she asked frantically.

Malik pulled Zakira’s hands away and held them tightly in his. “Shh. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to the tops of her fingers.

“Where were you?”

Malik shrugged and let go of Zakira’s hands as he leaned back on the sofa. “There was someplace I needed to be.”

“Like Doctor McNeil’s office?” Zakira softly inquired.

Malik’s narrowed gaze snapped to her face. “How’d you—”

“He called today, but you weren’t here. It sounded urgent.”

Malik ignored the faint pain near his temple. “It was just an exam. Routine.”

Zakira propped her elbow on the arm of the sofa. “You didn’t tell me you changed physicians. That’s why I was worried.”

“Damn, Zaki, does it matter?” Malik snapped. He desperately wanted to confide in her, but something wouldn’t allow him to. The inability to be honest with his wife caused his already short temper to boil.

Zakira’s eyes widened slightly at the outburst, but she chose to ignore his mood. “Why don’t you come sample what I worked on today?” she asked instead. She knew Malik too well to believe nothing was wrong. She would just have to use a different tactic to get some answers.

Malik’s gorgeous grin instantly returned. He leaned across her and lowered his mouth to the side of her neck. “Should I go to the kitchen or the bedroom?” he teased.

Zakira burst into laughter. “The kitchen, man!” she ordered, pushing away his heavy body.

A look of mock disappointment clouded Malik’s handsome dark face, but he did as he was told. It took much longer than usual to reach the kitchen with his hands tugging at Zakira’s blouse.

“Sit!” she ordered, when they finally reached the kitchen.

Malik got comfortable at the kitchen island while Zakira removed the light dinner she had prepared from the oven. There were the delicious chicken potpies, a mixture of broccoli, tomatoes and cucumbers marinated in a zesty wine vinegar and crushed herb dressing, and huge apple-walnut muffins. A light white wine topped off the tasty meal.

For a while, the only sounds in the kitchen were the clinking of utensils and glasses as they feasted on the dinner.

Several times, Zakira’s wide gaze traced every nuance of Malik’s face. She tried to search out any signs that something might be wrong. Of course, he looked as fit as ever.

“These dinners get better and better,” he complimented, after taking the last swig of wine from his glass.

“Thanks, baby,” Zakira whispered across the table, genuinely pleased by the compliment. “Did you have enough?”

Malik massaged the back of his neck and stood. “I’m just gonna get another drink.”

Zakira’s wide eyes followed him as he made his way to the counter. He lost his footing, just before he reached his destination. He had to grasp the edge of the oak counter for support.

“Malik?” Zakira called, rising from the table as well.

“I’m all right, Zaki,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing. “I don’t think I need another drink.”

Zakira was not amused by his teasing. “Are you having another dizzy spell?”

Confusion etched on Malik’s face and he turned. It was obvious that the comment took him by surprise. “What do you know about my dizzy spells?”

Zakira leaned against the edge of the table and regarded the handsome giant trying to put up a brave front. “I know you’ve been having them at least three times a week. But, of course, those are only the ones I’ve seen. I even know where you keep the pills.”

The depths of Malik’s eyes took on a darker tint and he looked as though he wanted to respond. Then, thinking better of it, he ran his fingers through his dreads and moved away from the counter.

“I’m goin’ to bed,” he mumbled, leaving Zakira alone in the kitchen.

The task of cleaning the kitchen turned out to be less time-consuming than Zakira anticipated. After she finished, she headed for bed.

Malik was still in the shower, when she walked into the bedroom. She decided to slip into her nightgown, since she had taken a shower just before starting dinner. She was smoothing lotion across her skin when Malik walked out of the steamy bathroom. For a moment, he stood staring at her while drying the droplets of water from his chest. He tossed the towel to the dresser and headed across the room, stopping just behind his wife. He grasped her hips in a firm hold and pulled her back against him. Burying his handsome face in the crook of her neck, he inhaled her sweet scent.

“I know you’re tired of hearing it, but I am sorry,” he whispered, his deep voice sounding muffled.

The soft apology sent shivers down Zakira’s back. She closed her eyes briefly and savored the moment. Then turning, she raised her face to his for a kiss.

Malik did not disappoint her. He pressed the tip of his tongue to the corner of her mouth, before tracing the lush full line of her lips. Zakira repeated the intimate action as she traced the wide sensual curve of his mouth.

When the kiss deepened, Malik lifted Zakira against his nude body and carried her across the room. Setting her down next to the bed, he lay back and pulled her down to him. With her straddling his huge form, Malik’s large hands trailed possessively over her thighs and beneath the hemline of her gown.

Zakira threw her head back and moaned when she felt Malik’s thumb caress the soft bud of her womanhood. The light circular motion of his finger soon had her wet with need. He removed his fingers and slid both hands around her hips to cup her full bottom. Lifting her easily, he slowly set her down over his throbbing arousal.

Zakira’s hands caressed Malik’s sexy, dark chocolate form, tracing his chiseled torso and abdomen. She rotated her hips and smiled when she heard him groan in response. Feeling his hard length inside her forced cries from her mouth.

Malik’s touch traced every curve of her body, fondling her full breasts beneath the silk nightie she still wore. One hand reached up to pull the pins from her hair, before he unraveled the thick braids. When the black mass fell across Zakira’s shoulders, he cupped her neck and pulled her down for a deep kiss.

Soon though, Malik wanted control and flipped Zakira to her back. He draped one of her shapely legs across his shoulder and deepened his thrusts….

“Malik?” Zakira whispered a long while later when they lay sprawled across the bed.

“Mmm-hmm?” he murmured, smoothing his palm against her flat stomach.

“Baby, if there were something wrong…you would tell me, right?”

Zakira never saw Malik squeeze his eyes shut as he answered. “I promise I would.”