Chapter Ten

Standing under the overhang of the equipment shed, he watched her. He had seen her at the game with that other man. “My woman needs to be cleansed. Shame on you for being out with someone else! You should never have let him touch you, you slut!” he hissed to the dark.

It had been difficult talking with her. All he had wanted to do was kill the man with her. He was no dummy; he could interpret the sidelong glances and frequent touches that Navy man gave Chantoya. His Chantoya.

He had watched them sitting together on the bleachers. Saw how they’d cheered together for her stu-dents. And his fury had grown.

But what got him the angriest was how romantic their interactions at the game had gone. He had want-ed to yell at her, demand she shower him with the affection he deserved. Her devotion was created for him and him alone. She was ignoring that and it infuriated him.

So now as he stood in the shadows watching her, his rage at her blatant disregard for her true place—by his side—causing his nails to draw blood in the palm of his hand. The pain made him focused enough that he remained hidden.

“Soon, Chantoya, you will be mine. You will be cleansed of this degradation you have allowed to touch your body. Soon, the only touch you will have or crave will be mine. No more being a slut or whore, for we will be one.”

The image of CJ being his to touch and caress as she lay beneath him naked brought him quickly to full arousal. He fondled himself to the sound of her husky laughter as she spoke with the students. He remained hidden until after she left with the man who had defiled her with a single touch.

*

Osten stayed by the door of CJ’s apartment. “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” she asked as she hung up her coat in the closet.

He groaned as her jean-clad derriere moved past him to put her keys on a hook beside him. “Maybe one drink…”

“Well, come on in.” She flashed him a shy smile. “I know my place is small but make yourself at home. I’ll make some coffee.”

Shrugging out of his jacket, Osten draped it over the chair by the door. He swept his gaze around her apartment, taking in the roses he had given her the night of their first date.

Moving into the kitchen, he watched her pull out two mugs and set them beside her Senseo machine. He positioned his body against her counter, taking in her elegant motions.

“Do you take anything in your coffee? Sugar? Cream? Milk?” her husky voice broke through his stare down with her butt.

“Sugar, please,” he managed to say.

“Are you okay?” she asked without looking over at him, intent on fixing his cup.

Nothing you can’t cure. “I’m fine.”

Handing him the steaming mug, Chantoya Willow Jackson wondered about the expression on his face. She gulped as their skin met during the transfer of the mug. Obviously struggling to control her emotions, she turned back and put in a packet for her own cup.

She pointed to a crystal dish. “Sugar’s right over there in the glass bowl.”

Osten knew she was nervous. He wanted to kiss her and make love to her, but instead he headed for the container she indicated. Lifting the lid, he smiled.

There was a divider separating white and granular brown cubes of sugar. A spoon and pinchers were also there. On some instinct, Osten spooned brown sugar into his drink and recovered the dish. He stirred in the sugar with the spoon in his cup.

It wasn’t long before CJ led him to the living room. They sat together on the couch.

“Thank you—” they both said at the same time.

“Go ahead,” CJ said.

“No, you go. Ladies first.”

Putting her cup down, she looked at him. “I just wanted to thank you for such a lovely evening.”

“Thanks for letting me tag along.”

She grinned. “I was the envy of everyone there, having you arrive with me,” Chantoya gloated.

Osten felt the same way. He hadn’t been blind to all the appreciative gazes she got from single and married men alike. “I’m not sure if I should be glad or not.”

CJ smacked him playfully on the arm. “You know what I meant.”

His eyes darkened. “Are you going to kiss my boo-boo and make it all better?”

In a second the mood switched to something where sexual desire was first and foremost as they re-membered the byplay in the bleachers. Osten placed his mug on a coaster that rested on her coffee table and faced her.

“If that’s what you want,” she whispered.

“What I want,” he told her in a velvet tone. “What I want is to kiss you again.”

CJ was amazed at the strength in this man. They were similar in height and she was a solid buck and a half. It seemed effortless for him to hold her.

He reached for her sides and picked her up to settle on his lap, her muscled legs on either side of his lean waist. His hands were gentle as they brushed her hair away from her face.

For a moment he merely looked at her. Took in how full her lips were, how smooth her unblemished toffee skin was. His hand continued to brush over her face, keeping her thick hair behind her ears. He noticed the silver hoop in the top of her left ear.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” Her words were hushed in the soft light that filtered around them.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured as the pressure from his fingers brought her head closer to his mouth.

Chantoya shivered as his breath caressed her cheek. She licked her lips as he gazed at her. Their mouths were millimeters from touching. She could smell the coffee on his breath and it was so nice.

Osten removed the minuscule distance and claimed her soft lips with his firm ones. He nibbled on her bottom lip before slipping his tongue into her waiting mouth.

Straddling his waist, CJ could easily feel his rigid erection pressing firmly against her body. Her mouth eagerly accepted his searching tongue. She put her hands on his head, pressing them closer together.

Rocking back and forth, she ground herself down onto him. The kiss was still gentle, exploring, and learning. Osten refused to change the pace. She whimpered as she rotated her hips faster, telling him what she desired, what she craved.

Inhaling the subtle smell that surrounded her, Osten could make out the scents. A light tropical smell and a hint of something that he knew was pure Chantoya Jackson. The combination resulted in him being as hard as marble and wanting desperately to be buried deep between her toned thighs.

He moved his hands down over her shoulders and arms until they rested on her full hips. Her little mewling noises kept chipping away at his waning control.

He felt her hands move over his chest and could feel her nails scoring his skin. Groaning over his own lack of restraint, Osten laced his hands under her sweatshirt, allowing himself to finally touch her satin skin.

His hands cupped her breasts, cradling the fullness of her along with the smoothness of her bra. He trailed his fingertips over her taut nipples, delighting in her shiver.

“Off,” he ordered. Both of them wasted no time in removing shirts. Osten sat back against the couch as her eyes moved over his bare chest.

Taking in a sharp breath, Chantoya allowed herself to ogle his chest. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. His olive skin was stretched tight over a six-pack that was covered by a moderate amount of chest hair. Every muscle in his upper body was rock hard and well defined, making her want to trace over the ridges with her tongue.

Her hands reached out to move over the carved physique before her. Licking her lips, she mumbled, “Jesus, you are cut.”

Each touch of her soft hands brought a tremble in his chiseled body. CJ drew her bottom lip into her mouth as she explored the bared chest before her.

Over the pectorals, down across his ribcage, her hands flowed slowly. Total enjoyment and concentration was on her face as her fingers memorized his torso as a blind person learned a face.

Finally she moved her eyes and hands back up to his visage. He was fighting to not give in to the demon that wanted to be released and dominate this woman. CJ could see he was struggling to remain in control.