Chapter 5 I didn't open the bookstore yesterday. How could I, when there was a fine ass dangerous and strange man bleeding and laid out in my bed upstairs, and all I could think about was the way his dick pressed against the front of his pants like it was trying to make an introduction. My body had no right reacting the way it did. I should've been focused on bandaging him up, keeping him alive. But instead, my gaze got stuck down there like my eyes had a mind of their own, and I couldn't stop thinking about it now. It was thick; even half-dead, the man was hard as hell. I'd visioned a few from my favorite smutty books, but it was different when it was real and right in front of me. My mouth had gone dry, and my thighs had pressed together so tight that I swear I could feel the throb from my own pulse between them. Then he started to drift again, and I snapped out of it, scolding myself for being turned on by a man who looked like he'd just walked out of a shootout. And now... now I had to pretend to be normal. I had to open Stacked Shelves and act like I hadn't spent the night tiptoeing back and forth from the kitchen to my bedroom like some kind of undercover nurse with a crush on her unconscious patient. The sun had barely risen when I tied my apron on and stood behind the bakery counter, wrist-deep in cinnamon roll dough. The motions always calmed me. This was the part of my routine I never skipped; rolling out the dough just like my mama taught me. I even hummed the same song she used to hum every Saturday morning when she needed peace. "Sweet Thing" by Chaka Khan. It always settled something in my chest. Like it gave me something soft to hold onto in a world that felt like it was getting harder to recognize since my parents left this world. Still, my mind kept drifting back to the stranger I was now housing. Who was he? He hadn't told me his name. Only warned me not to call the cops or an ambulance, like he knew what would happen if I did. He had a lethal but calm presence. The kind of energy that made my instincts scream danger but my body hum with heat. Every time I thought about the way he looked at me before he passed out, my stomach flipped. And that mouth of his, and those lips. Mhmm. Even barely conscious, he had the nerve to call me Specs. Like it was already a nickname that belonged to me. Like he was already claiming me as his. I shook my head and kept kneading, focused on getting the batch right. I let the low hum of the music and the scent of brown sugar rising in the warm air take me to my comfort. Then I felt him. The heat of his body radiating behind me as I kept my hands stilled in the dough. "Specs," he called out in his rough voice, that sound low and dark, immediately sending chills up my spine. "You look so fucking innocent with those glasses on... but I know what's under them. I can't wait to break you in." I jumped and turned so fast I nearly knocked the rolling pin off the counter. He stood there, leaning against the frame of the open doorway, shirtless, bandaged, and still bleeding in spots, but somehow... powerful. More alive than any man had a right to be in his condition. His braids were messy, eyes low-lidded like he hadn't slept properly in days, but that stare... that stare, pinned me in place. "You-you shouldn't be up," I stammered, heart racing like I just ran a marathon. "You're not supposed to-how did you even?" His gaze dragged down my body slow, like he was memorizing every curve and inch of me. I glanced down, remembering that I was just in a tank top and sleeping shorts with no bra on, so my nipples were visible through the thin fabric. Heat rushed up my neck as he smirked at me. I realized that he'd seen everything. "I'm good," he muttered. "For now." I swallowed hard and looked away, trying to focus on the counter, or anything other than him but the way he looked at me; I couldn't even think straight, and the worse part was, I was wet, again. Just from the way he said my fake little nickname. Just from the fact that he was looking at me like I was his dessert. My panties were completely drenched. "You need anything?" I asked, trying to mask my shaky breath. "And again...that's not my name." I added a second later, because I had to get control back somehow, a shred of it at least. "And again... I didn't ask." He said, cocking his head slightly, that smirk turning damn near arrogant. His body swayed slightly, like the weight of standing was finally catching up to him. I moved toward him, not too close, but close enough to see his bandages were starting to spot red. "You're still bleeding," I said. He didn't answer. Just looked at me with a kind of intensity I'd never been on the receiving end of before. It was like he saw looking straight through me. Then his knees buckled slightly, and I reached out to steady him. "Okay, no more standing," I said firmly. "Come on, you can lie down in the reading nook until the shop opens. Just... don't bleed on my first editions." He chuckled, but the sound was tired and strained. He followed me slowly, step by step as I guided him to the oversized leather chair in the corner of the book café where people liked to curl up and read. He sank into it like his body was finally giving out. I covered him with a blanket, watching the way his chest rose and fell, shallow and slow. He was already fading. I should've been scared, deep down, I was. But there was something else beneath the fear; something I didn't understand yet. Something that made me stay right there beside him, just in case he needed anything. Even if he never told me his name. After a few minutes, I noticed that he was completely out and as much as I wanted to sit right beside him and stare at his beautiful face as he slept, I knew I had to finish prepping for the café to open at 9am sharp. I walked back to the kitchen and got to work, dumping more cinnamon into the batter I'd made like I could bake this feeling away, but I couldn't. This man was invading my thoughts and had me so flustered, I didn't know what to do with myself. I tried once to deal with feelings like this when I was deep into my erotica books. My best friend, Tori had given me that ridiculous rose toy for my birthday last year, talking about it would change my life. It almost ended it! I was five seconds in before I thought I was having a heart attack. My legs were locked up, I completely stopped breathing, and I swore for a second the ancestors were calling me home. When I caught my breath and sanity, I threw that thing in the back of my dresser and vowed to never touch it again. Romance books were safer and that's what I'd been sticking to lately. With him here, those same flutters I'd felt in my stomach that eased between my thighs would surface every time I was near me. I didn't know why though because this man was dangerous, I could sense it. Nothing about him felt safe. Nothing about the way my heart raced when I was in his presence felt normal. Still, it was in me to check on him... to help him. Maybe it was because I'd been raised by parents who didn't just love; they nurtured too. My mama was the type to bring soup and medicine to a sick neighbor without being asked, and my daddy never even allowed my mom and I to walk on the outside of the sidewalk. That kind of care was all I ever known, so when I saw him bleeding on my floor, I didn't see an intruder breaking in or a man holding a gun that could possibly kill me. All I saw was someone who needed help. Someone that no one had helped before and that's what haunted me. By the time I finished icing the last batch of cinnamon rolls, the clock on the wall said 7:42 a.m. I still had a little over an hour before the shop opened, so I wiped my hands off and walked over to check on him. He was still laying there in the oversized chair with his head tilted back, his lips parted slightly as his chest rose and fell. He looked less like a stranger to me now, less like a threat. I kneeled next to him, seeing that the bruises on his ribs were dark and the bandages that I wrapped were clean in some spots but soaked in others. There was dried blood on his skin, around the edges of the bandage. I hesitated at my first thought to offer to help him get cleaned up. "Specs, why the fuck you breathing so close to my face? You tryna kiss a nigga?" He asked with his eyes still closed, snapping me out of my thoughts. I cleared my throat, embarrassed that he'd caught me staring at him, but I didn't know how being that his eyes had been closed this entire time. Specs, say something! Not me calling myself Specs... "Umm-I was going to ask you if you wanted to shower? I could help you... if you need it." Something in me wanted to help him and nurturing was just my default. He opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow like he wasn't expecting me to say that. "Specs, you telling me I stink or some shit?" "Wha-no! I was just saying that you needed to get your wounds cleaned and I could put new bandages... you know what, neve⁠-" "Specs, chill, I was just bullshitting you. I ain't really use to nobody touching me and shit, but I could use some help with a shower since a nigga still sore as fuck," he chuckled. "Alright, well come on. Let me help you up so we can get you clean before I have to come back down and open up." He nodded. I helped him up and guided him up the stairs, making sure to keep my hand close in case he stumbled. He didn't, but he moved real slowly like every step hurt. The upstairs bathroom was small but clean and had a lavender smell from the candle I kept on the sink. It had white tiles, a plain white shower curtain and those black-and-white abstract art photos I'd scored last year at Mrs. Luna's thrift shop down the strip. Nothing fancy just simple and good enough for just little old me and I was the only one who ever used it... until now. I turned the water on to get the temperature right, then glanced over my shoulder. He was standing there shirtless, watching me with his eyes darker than they were downstairs. I cleared my throat and turned to face him. "You, um... need help getting the rest off?" He raised his eyebrow. "You offering?" My lips parted, but nothing came out. I wasn't even sure what I meant when I asked him that. I'd never done anything like this before. Hell, I'd barely seen a man naked outside of the covers of the spicy books Tori always slipped into my TBR pile. Right now, he needed my help, and I wanted to give it, so even though my heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest and run the other way, I stepped forward silently and brushed my fingers over the edge of his waistband. "I can look away," I offered, barely above a whisper. My cheeks were burning so hot, I could feel the flush in my ears. He smirked at me again, knowing exactly what he was doing to me. "Nah," he murmured, "I like watching you try not to look." I turned away, ignoring his comment. I needed to look away because I knew that if I didn't, I was going to keep staring. Watching the way his abs flexed when he breathed, then looking down further and really started wondering things that I shouldn't. Like how it'd feel to straddle him. If his voice would sound the same when he growled my name or if he'd make me beg for it the way they do in books. God, I was losing all sense of decency when it came to him. I heard the shuffle of clothes behind me and the low grunt he'd made before I heard the soft sound of them hitting the tile floor. We stood in silence for a few minutes; my back still turned towards him. "So, yeah... the water's gonna' run cold." I swallowed and turned around slow, coming face to face with what looked like an Egyptian God. He was fully naked with steam curling around his body like it was worshipping him. Jesus! He was breathtaking, with his muscles and scars on full display. His skin was a shade of wet bronze, his broad chest was covered in tattoos, his stomach held a six pack, and his legs were thick and strong. That thing was thinging too, that other leg-just sitting there like a person, staring back at me. He wasn't all the way hard, but enough to make my stomach twist and my thighs press together. I tried to look away, but I failed miserably. His eyes were pinned to me, holding a silent dare in them, but he didn't tease me this time. He didn't say a word, just stepped under the water. I stepped in behind him, still in my sleeping shorts and tank top because there was no way in hell I was getting in there with him naked. I silently counted to five to calm myself and took a deep breath before grabbing the washcloth and lathering it up with the soap. My fingers trembled as I tried to keep my eyes on the washcloth, afraid to look up and see his intense stare. He stood still as I moved closer to him. I brushed against his chest with the washcloth and could feel him staring at me, yet he remained quiet and let me continue, and somehow... that was more intimate than anything else I could ever imagine. Not sex, not even a kiss... just quiet trust. He trusted me. I moved to wash his shoulders, down his back, across the curves of his waist and then back to his chest. I didn't rush but I didn't linger either, I just tried to be gentle while still trying to ignore the way my body was screaming and reacting while being this close to him. He stayed quiet and still but I felt him watching me the entire time. Deep down, I think he felt something too. Not lust, just seen. Maybe for the first time in a long time and I think that scared us both. I was gentle when I made it to his wounds as I cleaned off the dried-up blood. I tried with everything in me not to look down further, but it was like his thingy was calling my name. Still, I had enough decency to not go there so I politely skipped down to his legs and feet, leaving the latter for him to wash once I was done. I handed him the washcloth, turned my back and allowed him to wash the parts of his body that I refused to touch. After rinsing the soap from his body, I turned the water off and reached for the towel. He stood there, dripping wet as his eyes followed my every move. I finally found the courage to glance up at him and his look was unreadable as I stepped in front of him. I lifted the towel, trying to stay focused on what I was doing but it was impossible to not feel the heat rolling off him; not to feel the weight of everything unsaid between us. In one swift motion he caught my wrist as I was reaching to dry his chest, causing me to gasp. Not because it hurt but because the moment his fingers closed around mine, something inside me snapped. I hesitated before looking up at him and our eyes met again. His were dark and hooded and held an intense gaze, almost hypnotizing. "Specs," he said low. "That's not my⁠-" "Didn't ask," he shot back with a smirk. He pushed me gently, until my back was against the wall and stood over me with one hand beside my head and the other still holding my wrist like he was locking me in place. He leaned down until his breath was tickling my neck and I slowly came unraveled. "You always get close to muthafuckas you don't know?" he murmured. "No," I whispered. He leaned down further, swiping his tongue over my ear, causing me to moan unexpectedly. "You ever been this close to a man who wanted to ruin you, Specs?" I shook my head, realizing that I'd lost my voice to speak at this very moment. My head was spinning, and I could feel myself leaking down below. I don't know what this man was doing to me but needed to get away from him and fast. "You nervous?" he asked. He leaned further down and placed a soft kiss to my neck and my knees buckled as an electric shock shot through my body. What was this man doing to me? "Don't lie, I can feel it. Hell, I can smell it all over you, Specs," he said. His eyes roamed up and done my soaked body, stopping at my nipples that were on full display due to the wet shirt clinging to me. I almost fainted when he reached up and flicked his thumb across it. "I- -I should⁠-" He chuckled low. "Chill specs, I'm just fuckin with you lil baby. Handle ya' business in the shower. Oh, and Specs," he murmured in a low voice in my ear, "Next time you wash me... don't stop when you get to my dick." He said and turned to walk out of the bathroom, leaving me mesmerized and turned on so much that I was reconsidering that rose that I'd push to the back of my dresser. I stood there stuck, trying to catch the breath that I hadn't even realized that I was holding and gathering my thoughts before I turned the shower on and undressed. I stood in the shower trying to focus, trying to wash up and get prepared for the day, but he was living rent free in my head. He lips, the way he teased me, and good gracious, that body. I lowkey imagined another version of our interaction that ended with him bending me over in the shower while he fucked me silly like those unhinged book baes, but I knew it wouldn't happen. I'd never even touched a man's penis, let alone had one inside me so I knew that he would tear me to shreds-apart of me wanted him to. Yep, I was a virgin, but not intentionally. I'd spent most of my life with my head in books whether it was urban romance or schoolbooks. When I went off to college in the city, my parents encouraged me to date and even Tori would try to hook me up with blind dates, but I just couldn't get into the clubbing, drinking, smoking and one-night stands. I was a lover girl through and through, so when I did decide to give up my virginity, I wanted it to be with a man that I truly loved. I wouldn't necessarily say I was waiting until marriage because that wasn't the case, I was more so waiting for the perfect man to sweep me off my feet, like a love-at-first-sight kind of thing. And that man would make passionate love to me just like the countless romance stories I'd read. After showering, I stepped out and wrapped a towel around me. I brushed, flossed and went through my daily skin routine before realizing that I hadn't brought a change of clothes in here with me. I was mentally kicking my own ass about it. Now, I had to go out there in front of this fine ass stranger that I'd been fantasizing about, in nothing but this small ass towel that barely covered my thick body. I was proudly a size eighteen and loved the skin I was in, yet and still, no one had ever seen me naked besides my mom and Tori when she would come into the bathroom we shared in the dorm. I guess it's now or never. I eased out of the bathroom, clutching the towel tight and silently praying that he'd wandered downstairs or found something to do that didn't involve him being in this room but as soon as I turned the corner and walked into my bedroom, there he was. Stretched out across the bed with one arm thrown over his face like he was sleeping. Thank God! I swallowed the lump in my throat and quietly walked towards the dresser to grab panties, bra and the outfit I'd already laid out for work today. Yes, I was a little OCD; okay, maybe a lot, so everything had to be planned and organized, or I would freak out, which is why my clothes for the week were already prepped and paired, even down to the matching panty and bra set. I reached for my lavender lace set and quietly moved over to the corner to get the outfit I'd laid out. "That lil ass towel supposed to cover you or you just wore it to tease me?" he murmured. I yelped, clutching the towel tighter against my chest. "I didn't- I wasn't⁠-" That cocky but sexy smirk appeared on his face again. "Relax Specs, I ain't mad baby. Just tryna figure out if you're as innocent as you look... or if that sweet little brain of yours is filthier than you letting on." I cleared my throat and stood my ground. On the inside, I was folding like a pretzel. "Your funny. But no, I actually thought you were asleep mister and needed to get my clothes and get ready to open up," I blurted. "Is that right?" he asked, with his arm still thrown across his face though it was evident that he was looking at me, even if I couldn't see his eyes. "Umm-yea..." "Well, let me tell you what I think," he said, shifting in the bed. He moved his arm from across his face and now I could see his dangerous eyes-eyes that felt like were setting fire to my whole body. "I think you don't know whether to be scared of me or turned on. So, which one is it, Specs?" I rolled my eyes at him calling me by that nickname but opted out on repeating that it wasn't my name for the hundredth time. "It's neither. If I were afraid of you, I wouldn't have helped you. As for being turned on, I don't even know you enough to be turned on by you. You've never even told me your name," I said boldly. "You don't need to know me to feel me, Specs," he murmured. "Your body is already telling on you. I can feel the heat radiating off you from over here. Look at the way you clenching that lil ass towel like it's gone save you." He chuckled low. Yea, you definitely turned on, sweet thing. Your just to innocent to recognize it." I sucked a sharp breath, flustered and blinking fast as chills creeped up my spine. "I...should go...I need get dressed and ready to open the bookstore," I said and shot across the room, heading out the door. I paused and turned around to see him still staring at me. "Can I at least know the name of who I've been taking care of?" I asked. He didn't answer right away, just tilted his head as he gazed at me like he was trying to decide how to respond. "You talking to a ghost, baby." My stomach tightened. "That's not even a name." "It is now," he smirked. "The only one that matters."