Redemption, p.15
Redemption, page 15
“Well, I don’t know how long I can do this. I looked into his background, found a tie to some agency called MAFTA. I couldn’t even find out what the acronym was. The site is locked and private. There was a ding, when I attempted to hack. Possibly, their alarm. I pulled out fast.”
My body tensed. “You think they realized you were hacking them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then, leave it alone. I don’t want you involved.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. What?”
“You love me.”
“Kevin, text me the address and stay off the MAFTA site. In fact, give up any search on Wyatt’s military background. Just monitor his credit card purchases.”
“Got it. I’ll send you the address. But. . .do you need me to check out the place with you?”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
We hung up. Kevin delivered the address. I set my phone down and went off to take a shower. The whole time, I battled with what to do next.
Wyatt was getting close to us, but he still had no idea where Ebony was. It didn’t put me at ease. The only thing that would was Wyatt six feet deep within the ground.
Wyatt was with another woman, but that didn’t mean anything either. I’d been around Ebony enough to know that no other woman could take her place. And those kids were amazing. Wyatt would always want to be in their lives, no matter if he caused them more harm than good.
He may be busy messing around with this Selena now, but Ebony and the kids are in the back of his mind. He’ll never leave them alone.
I didn’t know what I would do, but one thing was for sure. I would have to go down to this address, find out what was going on. Next, I would figure out Ebony’s and my next move in getting rid of this basterd.
Chapter 14
Life inspires Art
Ebony
“There’s something about you, Ebony. Maybe, we’re similar in some ways. Same sort of sadness. Same sort of yearning to live and survive. Whatever it is, you’ve drawn me in.”
I couldn’t get that conversation out of my head. Yoshiro had ignited something within me with those words. If I was truthful with myself, he’d been triggering things within me since I’d first met him.
“I just want you to know that. . .I’ll be waiting here for you. No matter how long it takes. . .days, weeks, years.”
All day, I kept pushing thoughts of him away.
For a few hours, I worked on a new story. It was close to home. A story about the kids and me. A novel completely different from all the rest. It was about the last week. It started on the day that the kids and I ran from Wyatt. It was all about how I tried to decorate the apartment, when he showed up. I wrote every word—the way he slapped me, his threatening with the gun, the way he hurt my child. I poured it all onto the page—my stabbing and shooting, the running and driving away. Yoshiro was even it, and Mabel too. The snowy night. The wreck. The safe haven within his home.
I’m going to call it Redemption. The heroine’s going to get it at the end. All characters will.
I wrote until my fingers went sore, and my heart broke and the tears left my eyes. I didn’t even know if it would sell. No sex had occurred yet. Just light touches between the hero and heroine. Silent attraction brewing, but nothing more.
I had a small fanbase—readers of women from all ages and races. They followed me. They reviewed. They bought my books on the day they came out. They supported even though they didn’t even know my real name or had any idea how much their money helped.
Somehow we connected over my past stories.
Would we still connect now? Would these words matter? Would it touch someone’s soul?
Part of me, needed to hurry and put out a book to make some money. The other part yearned for a story to change a reader’s life. One or two who were going through what I dealt with. Perhaps, another that was running. Maybe she hadn’t fled from the abusive husband or boyfriend yet. Possibly, she was on the edge of the thought and this story would push her over—tell her she could do it. Convince her to run away.
Protect her kids.
Love herself.
Leave him alone.
I could not make one dime from this story, but if I knew I changed one person’s life, it would be worth it all.
I stopped after I wrote what happened this morning—Yoshiro coming to me and confessing that he was interesting in more between us.
It had shocked me, but would it stun the reader?
I’d been unprepared for the conversation. My body trembled. Not in fear, but in anticipation at the idea of more. But fear gripped my heart. It kept me at bay. I had kids to think about. I had a broken heart and a shattered soul to fix.
Was I even ready for more. . .with anybody?
I heard the sound of the kids pile into the house, rose from my desk in the bedroom, and headed down there.
Kia and Poppy made turkey sandwiches at the table.
I looked around. “Where’s Jalen?”
“Talking to Yoshiro about those stupid books.”
I’d never seen Jalen get comfortable with any man. Granted, we never really had one around us for too long. It was just a mail man or a store manager. No man inside of our living space. I didn’t know how I felt about Jalen’s warming to Yoshiro. Usually my son was on guard and near me.
In fact, usually all of the kids remained by my side.
We were now in the second week of living here and I barely saw the kids as much. Sure, we slept in the room together and I went over their schoolwork with them, but during their off time—they ran free.
“Mommy, are you okay?” Kia held the knife smothered in mayo in mid-air. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes.” I tapped my foot. “How do you feel about being here?”
With no hesitation, she said, “I love it.”
“Why?”
“I feel safe.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why?”
She frowned. “You don’t think we should feel safe?”
“Oh no. I was just wondering.”
“The dogs wouldn’t let Daddy come without letting us know. They would bark. They’re like furry alarms.”
“Good point.”
“And Yoshiro gave you the shotgun. Daddy would have never done that.”
“Nope.” Poppy lay a slice of turkey on the bread.
Kia continued, “And he still lets you keep the shotgun, which means he doesn’t mind, if you shoot him.”
“Well. . .it doesn’t mean that exactly.” I shook my head. “He just wants me to feel protected and be able to defend myself no matter what.”
“Yeah.” Kia put the mayo away. “I like that too.”
I grinned at them. Sometimes, kids were so simple. Black and white. There was no in between with them. No gray areas. Perhaps, adults over complicated situations.
“Yoshiro has offered to let us rent out the house in the back.” I pointed in that direction. “It’s a three bedroom.”
Kia sat down in front of her sandwich. “Why can’t we live here?”
Shocked, I asked. “What? Live in the house with him?”
“It’s working out.”
“Kia. . .we can’t live with him like that.”
“I just. . .”
“What?”
“I feel like Daddy wouldn’t come in here, if he saw Yoshiro. He would be scared.”
“Yep.” Poppy finished making her sandwich. Instead of putting the turkey up, she sat down and began munching.
“We’re not going to stay with Yoshiro in his house.” I went over to the pack of turkey and put it away. “It’s his place. He’s nice enough to offer us the rental over there.”
Munching, Kia nodded.
“And if Wyatt came around. . .Yoshiro would be there.”
“And we’ll still have the shotgun,” Kia added.
“Yes.” My throat grew weak. “Are you nervous about Daddy coming?”
“No.” Kia drank some of her lemonade. “We always win and get away.”
Hope filled me.
While I’d saw all of those moments as failures, Kia had counted them as wins. For her, not being around Wyatt—not being trapped—was a victory. It didn’t matter, if we left with bruises.
“You’re right, Kia. We always win.”
Jalen’s loud laughter came from beyond the den. He must’ve been in the studio where Yoshiro painted.
Kia shook her head. “I bet Jalen is boring the hell out of Yoshiro.”
Poppy smirked. “Yep.”
I love Poppy and her talking. Thank you, God.
Curious, I headed back there, walking past the living room and down the hall. I hadn’t been to his studio before. We’d already taken over a good part of Yoshiro’s house. I wanted to maintain his privacy as much as possible.
Jalen laughed again. “But that could be true.”
Yoshiro’s voice came next. “You try and you’ll find it to be impossible.”
I rounded the corner and peeked in.
They looked up. Yoshiro had a book open in his hand as Jalen held his stomach and laughed on the floor.
“Mommy,” Jalen giggled. “Yoshiro thinks Striker is an idiot.”
I smiled and stepped in. “Why?”
Yoshiro seared me with a heated gaze.
I had to look away and focus back on Jalen. If not, I would’ve been lost in those eyes. After that confession, I could no longer pretend or ignore what was happening between us.
Jalen rose from the floor and pointed to the page Yoshiro had opened. “Yoshiro just got to the airport scene where Striker blasts everyone, and Yoshiro thinks that it would’ve been impossible for him to even get inside with the automatic—”
“Hold up.” I raised one hand in the air. “The hero is involved in a mass shooting.”
“No, Mommy.” Jalen rolled his eyes. “He’s shooting up the bad guys.”
Yoshiro shook his head. “There’s no way Striker could’ve gotten any automatic weapon to an airport gate, post-911. It’s impossible.”
Jalen twisted his lips. “Maybe, he had it stored on the inside by an airport employee.”
“The author didn’t say it. He said Striker ran through the security gate, shoved a TSA agent to the side, and chased after the men. There’s no way that’s happening. And the gun he’s using would’ve been ineffective to get all thirty men.”
Jalen chuckled. “Why?”
“He never reloaded.”
I raised my hand again. “I’m still stuck on the fact that he’s shooting people in an airport, Jalen.”
“Mommy, it’s fiction. I told you it was about an assassin—”
“Who’s plowing down thirty people?”
“They’re bad guys.” Jalen shrugged.
Yoshiro smiled. “They are bad men.”
I frowned at both of them. “Really, guys? I don’t think this is appropriate.”
Jalen opened his mouth. “Wait. You can’t take Striker from me. It is my heart’s desire.”
I tried not to smile. “Your heart’s desire?”
“There’s no sex.” Jalen turned to Yoshiro. “What do you think?”
Yoshiro shrugged. “Besides the fact that none of these gun scenes are possible, it’s. . .pretty entertaining. After I finish this, I want to read book two.”
Jalen clapped his hands. “You’re a fan now.”
“I am.”
I shook my head at both of them.
“So. . .I’m just going to leave.” Jalen did a big show of creeping away. “Because I feel like it’s settled that I can read the series now.”
“We’ll still talk about it tonight.”
“There’s another book coming out next week, so maybe we can talk about it tonight and then do the pre-order.” Jalen rushed off, before I could respond.
I turned back to Yoshiro.
He’d been watching me. And that heated look returned. “The book isn’t that bad.”
“No?”
“It’s a great escape for Jalen. Striker is also a good guy. Even though he’s an assassin, he helps women. In the first act, he saved a class from being bombed.”
I widened my eyes.
“But overall, I think Jalen fell in love with Striker due to his past.”
“Hmmm.” I stepped in a little more. “What’s the hero’s background?”
“Striker’s father was abusive. He has flashbacks of his childhood. It’s one of the things he deals with. He has a soft spot for abused kids.”
“Oh my God.”
“He’s their hero.”
“You think I should let Jalen read them then?”
“Definitely.” He marked his page and closed the book. “I’ll keep reading the series because it really is entertaining. I’ll let you know, if it gets to topics that may make you uncomfortable. But in the end, a book is always a great thing. You write them. You should know.”
“I do.”
“What are you writing now?”
I tried to change the topic and walked over to the easel. Only it’s back was showing. “What are you painting?”
“You.”
Stunned, I walked over to the other side. My own face greeted me. “Damn.”
“I know it’s not that good—”
“It’s amazing.” I touched my chest. “That’s how you see me?”
“It doesn’t even do you justice. I’m probably going to start over.”
“Yoshiro, this is beautiful. I look. . .gorgeous and happy and. . .sexy.”
“That’s how I see you.”
He came close but didn’t touch me. However, barely three inches lay between us. All of me wanted to surrender to him. Every inch yearned to be touched and loved. But I was too scared, and it was too soon.
“I painted the kids too.” Yoshiro walked over to the back of the room and rounded the corner. When he came back, he brought two canvases with him.
The images blew me away. The first showed Salt and Pepa lapping at a giggling Poppy as she sat in the snow. I got the feeling that he’d really saw that happen and had been inspired to capture it. The other image displayed Kia and Jalen making two snowmen. Always competitive with each other, they both fiercely worked on theirs as if awaiting a judge’s decision.
“These are. . .brilliant. Captivating.” I covered my mouth.
“I was going to give them to you for Christmas, but since you came in. . .I got excited.”
“These are so good. I definitely want them.” I walked over and studied the paintings more. “I’m going to hang them up in the house.”
“Good.” He set them down and leaned them against the wall. “I’m glad you like them.”
“I love them.”
It was in that moment, where I realized that he stood so close to me. So close, if I extended my hand, I could touch his muscular chest. So close, if I rose to my toes, I could kiss him.
He licked his lips, and my body came alive.
Had he been having the same thoughts?
“You never answered my question.” He kept his voice low. “What are you writing about?”
“You,” I whispered.
Shock hit his face. “What?”
“I’m writing about you and me and. . .the kids. Mabel is in a scene too. Everything that’s gone on in these past weeks. I’ve just changed the names.”
He leaned his head to the side. “I’m the hero?”
“Of course.”
“And you’re the heroine?”
“Yes.”
He smirked. “So, there will be a sex scene?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
He shrugged. “You said you wrote erotic novels.”
“Yes, but. . .I don’t know how erotic this book will get.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” I shrugged. “Life is writing the book.”
“Hmmm.” He closed the distance, leaving only an inch between us. “There will definitely be a sex scene.”
“Oh really?”
“The book just might be eight hundred pages, before it will happen, but the sex will be there.”
I blinked. “Eight hundred pages?”
“You think sex will happen before then?”
I cleared my throat. “Well. . .if it’s a good book and erotic of sorts. . .the sex scene should come earlier.”
His voice deepened. “Then, we should make that happen.”
As usual, he had me at a loss for words.
I swore he breathed me in, before whispering, “But only when the heroine is ready.”
He leaned my way a little, almost as if he was testing me, seeing if I would run. And then he came closer, but passed my lips and whispered in my ear, “Are you ready?”
His chest brushed up against mine. My pulse spiked. My breathing shifted to panting. My body warmed.
“Ebony?” He brushed his lips against my ear. “Are you ready?”
“F-for what?”
“Training.” He moved away and gave me a wicked smile.
“Training?”
“I told you I would teach you how to further defend yourself, and have you practice on the guns.”
You know damn well you were talking about sex.
My heart had not stopped beating fast in my chest. And my nipples had stiffened a little. How long had they even awaken in all these years? The few times, my body had come alive, it had been through writing a sex scene. Never did it react from something happening in real life.
I cleared my throat while my body blazed on fire. “That’s right. . .training.”
“Let’s go.” He left me there in his studio, among the paintings he’d done of me and the kids. He walked off, right as my hormones twisted and tangled.
I caught my breath.
For a second, I yearned for him to kiss me. Whether it had been a good idea or not, wasn’t the question. I’d craved his touch.
Is that good or bad?
When my breathing calmed, I hurried out of there, but not before glancing at the canvas with my face on it. Not before marveling at the images of my kids enjoying life.
Yoshiro, what are you doing to me?
For the rest of the day, we trained in the other house. We fought in the open space of the living room. He taught me a few self-defense moves to make sure Wyatt never got more than a foot close to me. Yoshiro let me hit him. Kick his legs. Shove him down to the ground. Yank at his long hair.
My body tensed. “You think they realized you were hacking them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then, leave it alone. I don’t want you involved.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. What?”
“You love me.”
“Kevin, text me the address and stay off the MAFTA site. In fact, give up any search on Wyatt’s military background. Just monitor his credit card purchases.”
“Got it. I’ll send you the address. But. . .do you need me to check out the place with you?”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
We hung up. Kevin delivered the address. I set my phone down and went off to take a shower. The whole time, I battled with what to do next.
Wyatt was getting close to us, but he still had no idea where Ebony was. It didn’t put me at ease. The only thing that would was Wyatt six feet deep within the ground.
Wyatt was with another woman, but that didn’t mean anything either. I’d been around Ebony enough to know that no other woman could take her place. And those kids were amazing. Wyatt would always want to be in their lives, no matter if he caused them more harm than good.
He may be busy messing around with this Selena now, but Ebony and the kids are in the back of his mind. He’ll never leave them alone.
I didn’t know what I would do, but one thing was for sure. I would have to go down to this address, find out what was going on. Next, I would figure out Ebony’s and my next move in getting rid of this basterd.
Chapter 14
Life inspires Art
Ebony
“There’s something about you, Ebony. Maybe, we’re similar in some ways. Same sort of sadness. Same sort of yearning to live and survive. Whatever it is, you’ve drawn me in.”
I couldn’t get that conversation out of my head. Yoshiro had ignited something within me with those words. If I was truthful with myself, he’d been triggering things within me since I’d first met him.
“I just want you to know that. . .I’ll be waiting here for you. No matter how long it takes. . .days, weeks, years.”
All day, I kept pushing thoughts of him away.
For a few hours, I worked on a new story. It was close to home. A story about the kids and me. A novel completely different from all the rest. It was about the last week. It started on the day that the kids and I ran from Wyatt. It was all about how I tried to decorate the apartment, when he showed up. I wrote every word—the way he slapped me, his threatening with the gun, the way he hurt my child. I poured it all onto the page—my stabbing and shooting, the running and driving away. Yoshiro was even it, and Mabel too. The snowy night. The wreck. The safe haven within his home.
I’m going to call it Redemption. The heroine’s going to get it at the end. All characters will.
I wrote until my fingers went sore, and my heart broke and the tears left my eyes. I didn’t even know if it would sell. No sex had occurred yet. Just light touches between the hero and heroine. Silent attraction brewing, but nothing more.
I had a small fanbase—readers of women from all ages and races. They followed me. They reviewed. They bought my books on the day they came out. They supported even though they didn’t even know my real name or had any idea how much their money helped.
Somehow we connected over my past stories.
Would we still connect now? Would these words matter? Would it touch someone’s soul?
Part of me, needed to hurry and put out a book to make some money. The other part yearned for a story to change a reader’s life. One or two who were going through what I dealt with. Perhaps, another that was running. Maybe she hadn’t fled from the abusive husband or boyfriend yet. Possibly, she was on the edge of the thought and this story would push her over—tell her she could do it. Convince her to run away.
Protect her kids.
Love herself.
Leave him alone.
I could not make one dime from this story, but if I knew I changed one person’s life, it would be worth it all.
I stopped after I wrote what happened this morning—Yoshiro coming to me and confessing that he was interesting in more between us.
It had shocked me, but would it stun the reader?
I’d been unprepared for the conversation. My body trembled. Not in fear, but in anticipation at the idea of more. But fear gripped my heart. It kept me at bay. I had kids to think about. I had a broken heart and a shattered soul to fix.
Was I even ready for more. . .with anybody?
I heard the sound of the kids pile into the house, rose from my desk in the bedroom, and headed down there.
Kia and Poppy made turkey sandwiches at the table.
I looked around. “Where’s Jalen?”
“Talking to Yoshiro about those stupid books.”
I’d never seen Jalen get comfortable with any man. Granted, we never really had one around us for too long. It was just a mail man or a store manager. No man inside of our living space. I didn’t know how I felt about Jalen’s warming to Yoshiro. Usually my son was on guard and near me.
In fact, usually all of the kids remained by my side.
We were now in the second week of living here and I barely saw the kids as much. Sure, we slept in the room together and I went over their schoolwork with them, but during their off time—they ran free.
“Mommy, are you okay?” Kia held the knife smothered in mayo in mid-air. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes.” I tapped my foot. “How do you feel about being here?”
With no hesitation, she said, “I love it.”
“Why?”
“I feel safe.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why?”
She frowned. “You don’t think we should feel safe?”
“Oh no. I was just wondering.”
“The dogs wouldn’t let Daddy come without letting us know. They would bark. They’re like furry alarms.”
“Good point.”
“And Yoshiro gave you the shotgun. Daddy would have never done that.”
“Nope.” Poppy lay a slice of turkey on the bread.
Kia continued, “And he still lets you keep the shotgun, which means he doesn’t mind, if you shoot him.”
“Well. . .it doesn’t mean that exactly.” I shook my head. “He just wants me to feel protected and be able to defend myself no matter what.”
“Yeah.” Kia put the mayo away. “I like that too.”
I grinned at them. Sometimes, kids were so simple. Black and white. There was no in between with them. No gray areas. Perhaps, adults over complicated situations.
“Yoshiro has offered to let us rent out the house in the back.” I pointed in that direction. “It’s a three bedroom.”
Kia sat down in front of her sandwich. “Why can’t we live here?”
Shocked, I asked. “What? Live in the house with him?”
“It’s working out.”
“Kia. . .we can’t live with him like that.”
“I just. . .”
“What?”
“I feel like Daddy wouldn’t come in here, if he saw Yoshiro. He would be scared.”
“Yep.” Poppy finished making her sandwich. Instead of putting the turkey up, she sat down and began munching.
“We’re not going to stay with Yoshiro in his house.” I went over to the pack of turkey and put it away. “It’s his place. He’s nice enough to offer us the rental over there.”
Munching, Kia nodded.
“And if Wyatt came around. . .Yoshiro would be there.”
“And we’ll still have the shotgun,” Kia added.
“Yes.” My throat grew weak. “Are you nervous about Daddy coming?”
“No.” Kia drank some of her lemonade. “We always win and get away.”
Hope filled me.
While I’d saw all of those moments as failures, Kia had counted them as wins. For her, not being around Wyatt—not being trapped—was a victory. It didn’t matter, if we left with bruises.
“You’re right, Kia. We always win.”
Jalen’s loud laughter came from beyond the den. He must’ve been in the studio where Yoshiro painted.
Kia shook her head. “I bet Jalen is boring the hell out of Yoshiro.”
Poppy smirked. “Yep.”
I love Poppy and her talking. Thank you, God.
Curious, I headed back there, walking past the living room and down the hall. I hadn’t been to his studio before. We’d already taken over a good part of Yoshiro’s house. I wanted to maintain his privacy as much as possible.
Jalen laughed again. “But that could be true.”
Yoshiro’s voice came next. “You try and you’ll find it to be impossible.”
I rounded the corner and peeked in.
They looked up. Yoshiro had a book open in his hand as Jalen held his stomach and laughed on the floor.
“Mommy,” Jalen giggled. “Yoshiro thinks Striker is an idiot.”
I smiled and stepped in. “Why?”
Yoshiro seared me with a heated gaze.
I had to look away and focus back on Jalen. If not, I would’ve been lost in those eyes. After that confession, I could no longer pretend or ignore what was happening between us.
Jalen rose from the floor and pointed to the page Yoshiro had opened. “Yoshiro just got to the airport scene where Striker blasts everyone, and Yoshiro thinks that it would’ve been impossible for him to even get inside with the automatic—”
“Hold up.” I raised one hand in the air. “The hero is involved in a mass shooting.”
“No, Mommy.” Jalen rolled his eyes. “He’s shooting up the bad guys.”
Yoshiro shook his head. “There’s no way Striker could’ve gotten any automatic weapon to an airport gate, post-911. It’s impossible.”
Jalen twisted his lips. “Maybe, he had it stored on the inside by an airport employee.”
“The author didn’t say it. He said Striker ran through the security gate, shoved a TSA agent to the side, and chased after the men. There’s no way that’s happening. And the gun he’s using would’ve been ineffective to get all thirty men.”
Jalen chuckled. “Why?”
“He never reloaded.”
I raised my hand again. “I’m still stuck on the fact that he’s shooting people in an airport, Jalen.”
“Mommy, it’s fiction. I told you it was about an assassin—”
“Who’s plowing down thirty people?”
“They’re bad guys.” Jalen shrugged.
Yoshiro smiled. “They are bad men.”
I frowned at both of them. “Really, guys? I don’t think this is appropriate.”
Jalen opened his mouth. “Wait. You can’t take Striker from me. It is my heart’s desire.”
I tried not to smile. “Your heart’s desire?”
“There’s no sex.” Jalen turned to Yoshiro. “What do you think?”
Yoshiro shrugged. “Besides the fact that none of these gun scenes are possible, it’s. . .pretty entertaining. After I finish this, I want to read book two.”
Jalen clapped his hands. “You’re a fan now.”
“I am.”
I shook my head at both of them.
“So. . .I’m just going to leave.” Jalen did a big show of creeping away. “Because I feel like it’s settled that I can read the series now.”
“We’ll still talk about it tonight.”
“There’s another book coming out next week, so maybe we can talk about it tonight and then do the pre-order.” Jalen rushed off, before I could respond.
I turned back to Yoshiro.
He’d been watching me. And that heated look returned. “The book isn’t that bad.”
“No?”
“It’s a great escape for Jalen. Striker is also a good guy. Even though he’s an assassin, he helps women. In the first act, he saved a class from being bombed.”
I widened my eyes.
“But overall, I think Jalen fell in love with Striker due to his past.”
“Hmmm.” I stepped in a little more. “What’s the hero’s background?”
“Striker’s father was abusive. He has flashbacks of his childhood. It’s one of the things he deals with. He has a soft spot for abused kids.”
“Oh my God.”
“He’s their hero.”
“You think I should let Jalen read them then?”
“Definitely.” He marked his page and closed the book. “I’ll keep reading the series because it really is entertaining. I’ll let you know, if it gets to topics that may make you uncomfortable. But in the end, a book is always a great thing. You write them. You should know.”
“I do.”
“What are you writing now?”
I tried to change the topic and walked over to the easel. Only it’s back was showing. “What are you painting?”
“You.”
Stunned, I walked over to the other side. My own face greeted me. “Damn.”
“I know it’s not that good—”
“It’s amazing.” I touched my chest. “That’s how you see me?”
“It doesn’t even do you justice. I’m probably going to start over.”
“Yoshiro, this is beautiful. I look. . .gorgeous and happy and. . .sexy.”
“That’s how I see you.”
He came close but didn’t touch me. However, barely three inches lay between us. All of me wanted to surrender to him. Every inch yearned to be touched and loved. But I was too scared, and it was too soon.
“I painted the kids too.” Yoshiro walked over to the back of the room and rounded the corner. When he came back, he brought two canvases with him.
The images blew me away. The first showed Salt and Pepa lapping at a giggling Poppy as she sat in the snow. I got the feeling that he’d really saw that happen and had been inspired to capture it. The other image displayed Kia and Jalen making two snowmen. Always competitive with each other, they both fiercely worked on theirs as if awaiting a judge’s decision.
“These are. . .brilliant. Captivating.” I covered my mouth.
“I was going to give them to you for Christmas, but since you came in. . .I got excited.”
“These are so good. I definitely want them.” I walked over and studied the paintings more. “I’m going to hang them up in the house.”
“Good.” He set them down and leaned them against the wall. “I’m glad you like them.”
“I love them.”
It was in that moment, where I realized that he stood so close to me. So close, if I extended my hand, I could touch his muscular chest. So close, if I rose to my toes, I could kiss him.
He licked his lips, and my body came alive.
Had he been having the same thoughts?
“You never answered my question.” He kept his voice low. “What are you writing about?”
“You,” I whispered.
Shock hit his face. “What?”
“I’m writing about you and me and. . .the kids. Mabel is in a scene too. Everything that’s gone on in these past weeks. I’ve just changed the names.”
He leaned his head to the side. “I’m the hero?”
“Of course.”
“And you’re the heroine?”
“Yes.”
He smirked. “So, there will be a sex scene?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
He shrugged. “You said you wrote erotic novels.”
“Yes, but. . .I don’t know how erotic this book will get.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” I shrugged. “Life is writing the book.”
“Hmmm.” He closed the distance, leaving only an inch between us. “There will definitely be a sex scene.”
“Oh really?”
“The book just might be eight hundred pages, before it will happen, but the sex will be there.”
I blinked. “Eight hundred pages?”
“You think sex will happen before then?”
I cleared my throat. “Well. . .if it’s a good book and erotic of sorts. . .the sex scene should come earlier.”
His voice deepened. “Then, we should make that happen.”
As usual, he had me at a loss for words.
I swore he breathed me in, before whispering, “But only when the heroine is ready.”
He leaned my way a little, almost as if he was testing me, seeing if I would run. And then he came closer, but passed my lips and whispered in my ear, “Are you ready?”
His chest brushed up against mine. My pulse spiked. My breathing shifted to panting. My body warmed.
“Ebony?” He brushed his lips against my ear. “Are you ready?”
“F-for what?”
“Training.” He moved away and gave me a wicked smile.
“Training?”
“I told you I would teach you how to further defend yourself, and have you practice on the guns.”
You know damn well you were talking about sex.
My heart had not stopped beating fast in my chest. And my nipples had stiffened a little. How long had they even awaken in all these years? The few times, my body had come alive, it had been through writing a sex scene. Never did it react from something happening in real life.
I cleared my throat while my body blazed on fire. “That’s right. . .training.”
“Let’s go.” He left me there in his studio, among the paintings he’d done of me and the kids. He walked off, right as my hormones twisted and tangled.
I caught my breath.
For a second, I yearned for him to kiss me. Whether it had been a good idea or not, wasn’t the question. I’d craved his touch.
Is that good or bad?
When my breathing calmed, I hurried out of there, but not before glancing at the canvas with my face on it. Not before marveling at the images of my kids enjoying life.
Yoshiro, what are you doing to me?
For the rest of the day, we trained in the other house. We fought in the open space of the living room. He taught me a few self-defense moves to make sure Wyatt never got more than a foot close to me. Yoshiro let me hit him. Kick his legs. Shove him down to the ground. Yank at his long hair.
