Gettin' Hooked Read online

  She was eyeing us all suspicious-like when she asked, “What do you need?”

  Um…what the—? I felt like askin’ for a cheeseburger or a Slurpee, ’cause come on, we were at a hotel. How dumb did the woman have to be not to know we wanted a room? I kept my mouth shut, though. I was hella frickin’ grouchy and I didn’t want the bootch to send us away.

  “We need a room,” Maurice replied before I could.

  “ID and credit card.”

  He took out his ID and plopped it on the counter, sliding it under the low window. “Can I pay cash?”

  “I have my card.” I bent to fiddle in the front pocket of my pack. Retrieving the Visa my daddy kept full of grip, I put it on the counter.

  The woman picked up both, her stare steady as she held both cards next to each other, then turned her narrowed eyed glare on us. “You’re not old enough to get a room.”

  A heavy hand landed on my shoulder, Maurice’s strong fingers drawing a slow circle on my upper back. “We’re married.”

  I stopped breathing, and shit, I think my heart jammed up, too, but I kept my face emotionless, working hard to not show my surprise.

  “The names aren’t the same,” she replied, angling the ID and Visa our way to indicate what she was talking about.

  “It hasn’t been long ’nough to fix that.”

  His hand had slid from my upper back, down my side and now rested lazily on my hip, his fingers creeping up and touchin’ skin below the hem of my shirt. Looping his thumb into my pants, he scooted me a little closer, but kept his hand in place even when there was no frickin’ gap between us.

  After a sec, the woman nodded and started typing into her computer. “Is the address correct?” she asked. Maurice kept on dealin’ with her, but their words faded out as my pulse rushed hella loud in my ears.

  We were gettin’ a room and in a quick sec we’d be handed the key. So I stood there at Maurice’s side as the attendant swiped my card and had me sign, though I had a straight-up hard time moving, my knees hecka tremblin’ and my hands shaking as I signed the slip.

  I mean, dayum, I was gettin’ a room with a dude.

  A few more minutes and Maurice had his hand linked with mine, his warm palm pressed tightly against my skin, his fingers laced between mine.

  I dropped into step beside him as he guided us to our room, then slid the thin plastic card into the lock and opened the door.

  The room was dark aside from a small light on the wall in the bathroom, which was to our immediate right. I heard Maurice touch the wall a couple times, then golden light flooded the room and hurt my eyes after being in the dark for so long.

  “There’s just one bed,” I commented, my gaze fixed on the big bed settin’ smack against the wall and takin’ up most of the small room.

  “I told her we were hooked up, I couldn’t exactly ask for two beds.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Aww, lawdy, I wish the lights were back off right quick, so he wouldn’t be able to see my face. And I wouldn’t be able to see the bed.

  “You cool?”

  I nodded but didn’t say anything as I untangled our fingers and moved deeper into the room, droppin’ my backpack on a chair by the TV. It’d been years since I’d traveled with my daddy, but we’d always stayed in much nicer hotels, nothing roadside like this one.

  The room was nice enough, but it hella reminded me of the tricks at school who rented telly rooms to spread ’em for their fellas. Or whatever fella wanted a piece of coochie, because give-it-up girls were like that.

  Finding the remote to the TV, I flicked it on. When light filtered off the set, Maurice clicked off the overhead lamp and walked toward the bed, then pulled back the blankets and sat down.

  He didn’t say anything as he shrugged out of his shirt, tossed it to the chair where my bag was. A minute later I heard the clink-clank of his belt and it slid from his jeans as he fiddled with the button fly, then bent forward to untie his shoes.

  The entire time I stood staring at his muscular back, his dark skin smooth and rich-looking, set off by the pale milky colors coming off the TV program. He was gettin’ naked and I couldn’t think to move or kick off my own shoes or lose my sweatshirt.

  With my damp palms pressed to my thighs, I shook my head, tryin’ hella hard to snap out of it, to shut my mouth ’cause I was trippin’ gaping at him. Licking my lips, I tried to get myself together before he noticed.

  Takin’ a couple deep breaths, then letting ’em out slowly, I squeezed my lids closed tight. When not lookin’ at him I was able to turn away.

  When I opened my eyes, Maurice had turned on the bed and was smiling at me, one dark brow arched and the twin dimples dancing on his cheeks. He’d slid one leg beneath the comforter, which made the denim V of his pants spread, givin’ me a peep at his boxers beneath.

  “All gravity?” he asked, leaning back on one elbow and pulling his other leg up onto the bed.

  He was going to sleep with his jeans on, I realized, glad that the only light in the room was from the TV.

  “Gravy.” I smiled, kicked off my shoes, tossed my sweatshirt, and climbed into the bed, turning on my side facing him and tuckin’ the pillow so it was sorta between us. “You want the TV off?”

  “Mmm-hmm…” His voice was trailin’ off, all soft and hexa sexy sounding. Shoving down the plump of the pillow with a fist, I looked at his face and saw that his eyes were already closed. One arm was curled up beneath his head, showing off the thickness of his biceps.

  Reachin’ behind me, I found where I’d set the remote and shut off the set, sending the telly room into almost complete darkness. Through the thick drapes I could see the neon signs I’d seen from the parkin’ lot and over the slow, even breathing of Maurice, I could hear cars on the freeway whizzin’ by hella fast.

  Just as I closed my eyes, Maurice’s hand settled over mine on my pillow. His touch straight startled me, ’cause I’d been sure he’d already drifted off.

  “Hey, Imani?” His voice was low and all sleepy.

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  “Whatcha fight with Kayla ’bout?”

  “I wanted to shut down GettinHooked.com.”

  “Why?”

  I sighed, turning my hand so we were palm to palm, his so much bigger than mine. “It was gettin’ hella whack.”

  “Aww…”

  The silence stretched again, his body still aside from the rise and fall of his bare chest and I was pretty sure he’d finally fallen asleep. Leavin’ my hand beneath his, I tried to settle into the bed, to relax into the mattress and not be so afraid we’d end up touchin’ more.

  My lids heavy, my lashes fallin’ to my cheeks, I dreamily yawned, last night’s lack of sleep takin’ its toll and bringin’ me down hard, the last of my energy seepin’ out of every muscle.

  And then his voice came in the darkness again, so softly I didn’t get it all and wasn’t sure if he was askin’ a question or making a statement, and I was too tired to reason out his words, though they played over in my head as I drifted off…“Imani, you don’t need your site no more.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Maurice’s hand was on my hip, his long fingers half on the jersey of my sweats, half on my skin under my shirt. And his soft lips were kissing me, on my cheeks, at the corners of my mouth, on the sensitive skin by my ear.

  I didn’t wanna open my eyes, didn’t want to wake up and find out that I was dreaming and I was actually in my bed on the same short night I’d cried myself to sleep.

  Just to peep out if he was real, I turned slightly onto my side toward him. Not daring to lift my lids, I lifted my hand and settled it on his chest.

  His naked chest.

  His muscles quivered under my fingertips and he made a little throaty noise that made me warm and gushy inside.

  “Morning, shortie,” he whispered, between raining kisses across my face.

  I smiled. Okaaay, this was fo’ sho’ no dream. “Hi.” My voice cracked a little, but he just chuckled
and took advantage of my smile by planting his mouth full on mine and sweeping his tongue across my lips, then inside.

  I let him kiss me, let him angle his head so his tongue stroked softly against mine, let him lead me until that warm gushy feelin’ was hella on fire and all I could think ’bout was if he quit now I might cry. Or die. Or worse, beg him to start up with this mess again.

  Oh, my lawdy, I straight up didn’t even care about my morning breath, and he sure as hell didn’t, either. He kissed me deep, pressing me back onto the firm mattress of the telly room, his large body half covering me.

  Slowly his mouth moved from mine, smoothing tongue and lips down my jaw, then to my neck. His hand was hella set loose, roaming all free and crazy across my body, creepin’ up beneath my shirt across my bare skin.

  My thoughts skittered to my lack of bra, which lay on the floor, haphazardly discarded in the middle of the night.

  His palm settled over my flesh, and I straight up couldn’t help the nervous giggle. I turned more fully into him, breakin’ off the kiss, and put my forehead to his chest. “We’re in a room.”

  He made a sound at the back of his throat, but I felt it rumble up from his chest. “Yup, you chill with that?”

  Hexa chill. I think. I’d kissed other guys. I’d made out with other fellas. This wasn’t the first time I’d had a hand up my shirt, but it was the first time evah I was all up in a room, alone with a half-dressed hottie who was totally diggin’ the kisses and feelin’.

  I could tell.

  And his whispered words did a ring-a-ding in my skull: carry caps. And I knew now, like I knew then, he’d meant condoms, and I hella wondered if he had some with him now. In the half craziness of sleep, I wanted this boy, wanted to go all the way, and I’d let him do it, too.

  I nodded. And with the slight movement his hands went back to caressing me, back to roaming all free across my body, making my skin hella tingle.

  “I’ll quit if ya tell me,” he mumbled, and his non-pressure made me feel way better about lettin’ him continue.

  I believed him. I believed that if I told him to stop he would, unlike some dudes I’d known ’bout, some situations my girls had gotten into.

  Relaxin’ into his touch, into his mouth and kisses, I ran my hand up his chest, over muscular shoulders, up the back of his neck and across the stubble of his clean fade. “I know.”

  “You done this before?”

  “No.” I didn’t hesitate in my reply.

  But he paused, his kisses stopping, his body going still half above me. And I heard his breathing change up, too. I wasn’t ready for this to be over, wasn’t ready for the warmth and softness to be cooled out if he was having second thoughts ’bout being with a virgin.

  Putting my hand on the back of his head, I pulled his head down toward mine, and kissed him instead. And so he lost the stillness and went back to doin’ what he had been that was makin’ me feel light-headed, yet alive.

  With each kiss the passing thoughts of him not even being my man faded out. Thoughts of prom dates and wannabe hook-ups. Of GettinHooked.com and all the trouble it’d caused. Not even the remainin’ shaded bruise on my cheek mattered. Only feelin’ fully what Maurice was doing to me.

  And then his hand dipped straight up into my pants and I knew I didn’t wanna stop him. Except…thoughts of Kayla crept into my head, and fear resurfaced. Hard.

  Here I was, cup caking and playing cuddle-up with the guy I wanted so bad. I was safe and secure in his arms, doin’ junk I’d never even wanted to do wit’ no one else. Junk I wanted to keep on doin’. Because he was gentle and tender and makin’ this all right. Makin’ it right.

  But Kayla, Kayla was out there with a stranger. For all I knew—she knew—James was a forty-year-old man with a thang for teen girls.

  I was into Maurice. Pickin’ up what he was layin’ down. But Kayla could be being raped, or even murdered.

  Even with Maurice’s sweet kisses and tender caresses, tears welled behind my eyes. My throat tightened as I attempted to keep them at bay. But I failed and fat drops slipped off my lashes.

  After a sec, Maurice must have tasted their saltiness mingled with our makin’ out. His body still again, he lifted his head, his brows pulled together, his dark eyes intent on me when I lifted my lids and looked at him.

  “You scared?” He touched my cheek, swipin’ away some of the liquid stainin’ my skin. “I said I’d stop. You shoulda told me.”

  I shook my head, my throat too tight to talk, my mouth too dry to form words. His warm palm cupped my cheek, his thumb gently stroked across my lips, and I could tell he was fightin’ hella hard to get himself in check.

  “You okay, Imani? I didn’t wanna do shit you don’t like.”

  “I like it,” I croaked out, somehow forcing out the words, a sob startin’ to bubble up.

  He flashed this boyish grin that showed off his cutiepie dimples. “What then, shortie?”

  “Kayla.” And then tears streamed out hexa fast and the sob I’d been holdin’ back escaped. Feelin’ hella dumb, I turned my face away and once again put my forehead to his chest so he couldn’t see me cryin’.

  He didn’t nothing at first, just held me while I cried. Stroked his big hands down my back, pushed back unruly wild-ass curls from my face, now dampened by my fussin’.

  “You’re worried ’bout her.”

  I nodded.

  His voice lowered, and I could feel the warmth of his breath brush against my ear. “Me, too.”

  I nodded again, but between sobs there wasn’t much I could say. Wrappin’ my arms around his back, I curled into him, absorbing his heat, totally comfortable sharin’ this moment with him. In fact, it felt good to be there with him because usually I cried alone.

  My daddy was gone when I needed him. I hated to burden Gram when I was upset, and I’d never had a momma to share this with. But Maurice was here, and oh, my lawdy, I needed him. Needed this from him as much as I needed and wanted the kisses and affection.

  He held me, like I’d longed for someone to do. He let me cry, without offerin’ up advice or judgment. With my cheek tight against his firm chest, I could feel his heart beat, the slow and steady rhythm hella soothin’ when I was feelin whacked and out of it.

  A bit of time must ticked off the clock because the weepin’ let up and I was able to make words again. Takin’ a hecka big gulping breath, I lifted my head and leaned back so I could look at him.

  “Maybe I’m trippin’, but I’m worried ’bout her.” I touched his chest where I’d left some nasty snot from all my boo-hooing. “I liked it, though. I’m not upset about the kissin’ ’n stuff.” My face heated.

  “But I just got ta thinkin’. Here I am, all cuddled up with you, and feelin’ hella good—” I watched him smile “—and it was safe and right, but K is out there with some guy she doesn’t know. Some guy who may not be sweet like you are.”

  An eyebrow lifted, but a dimple danced. “I’m sweet?” And he kissed me hard with some added tongue to maybe prove he wasn’t.

  I was kinda breathless when he was through. “Yeah. Sweet. But you smellin’ me about Kayla?”

  He nodded. “So let’s step then. The sooner we bounce, the sooner we’ll get there.”

  “Fa shizzle.”

  “You wanna shower?”

  Heat pumped up all crazy onto my cheeks again, thinkin’ I’d be gettin’ for real naked in the next room, even though I was about to get down in the bed with him a few secs ago. “Yup.”

  He rolled outta the bed, leavin’ me feelin’ all hella cold and lonely and wishing right quick that we could forget about the rest of the world and go back to makin’ out.

  For a moment I just lay there watching him, his brown skin lookin’ rich and smooth in the dimness of our room. The fly on his jeans gaped open and the denim clung all low on his hips.

  His body moved powerfully across the room to where I’d dumped my pack, then with a wink he swooped it up and carried it to the bathroom.
A sec later I heard the shower turn on, the water smackin’ down on the tub.

  “All ready. You go first,” he said, walkin’ out of the bathroom.

  Rightin’ my shirt and sweats under the covers, I got out of the bed, my heart thumpin’ hella hard. For a quick minute there, I thought he’d meant to shower with me.

  “Thanks.” I reached up and kissed his cheek as I went by, steppin’ into the bathroom, then my head hexa debatin’ on whether or not to lock the door. I ended up not. Let what happens happen, I was feelin’ all ready for the next step with Maurice.

  But he didn’t come in. I showered pretty quickly, knowing the water and telly soap would help out the puffiness of my cried-out eyes, and make me fresh and ready to face the rest of the day.

  I dressed in the bathroom, too, then swapped with Maurice. He showered while I combed my hair and put on my socks and sneakers.

  Less than an hour after full-on makin’ out then breakin’ into tears, we gathered all our stuff and pixxed out.

  Time to find Kayla.

  CHAPTER 17

  The highway sped by. After we left the L.A. area, the highway turned into mile after mile of nothin’ much, spreadin’ into even hecka less. The scope of the low hills and desert was hella different than the city streets of the Bay Area, or even the smooth lanes and courts of the suburbs just outside The Bay, where I lived.

  Maurice and I didn’t talk much as we moved down the long stretch of road, the bright sun seepin’ in through his tinted windows. Mac Dre was on his CD player right now, like most of the ride we just listened to the music and let the hours tick by.

  But it was a comfortable silence, one filled with hand-holdin’ and soft, tender smiles that made me feel like I was the most special girl in the world. And there were times that I’d glance his way and his warm eyes were fixed on me rather than the road. Somethin’ in his gaze made me want a replay of the telly. Want another chance to play cuddle-up, to be in his arms again.