I Can Love You Page 14

  Quinton sat at the control board, listening with his eyes closed but still responded to her sudden presence. “How was your thing?”

  “I’d say it was a success. The kids at the Birthday Bash loved everything, and Aaron was wonderful.” Her son’s interaction with all the terminally ill children in attendance touched her the most. With no media present, she could engage on her terms with no one misconstruing her actions. “Who are you hiding from?” Tara asked, sitting down on the sofa and folding her legs beneath her.

  “No one in particular.”

  “I tried to call you after to see if you wanted to meet us at Mr. Chow’s, but your cell went straight to voicemail.”

  Quinton adjusted the levels of the music, tugging at the strap on his sling, slowing down the tempo, and leaned back in his chair. “After I took a nap, I rolled with KeKe to see my father.”

  “Your dad is in Los Angeles? I didn’t know you were even speaking to him.”

  “We’ve talked a few times since her wedding.” Quinton began fingering the keys on a nearby keyboard.

  “How has that been going for you?”

  “He wants to work things out, or at least that’s what my sister keeps telling me. They’ve already made amends, but I don’t think it can be that easy for me.”

  Tara offered him a nod of understanding before reaching for her favorite guitar from a nearby stand. “What happened?”

  “What do you think happened?” he said edgily. “He pulled that ‘I’m not the same man’ bullshit, but I don’t buy it. He even used Jamal’s death as a sympathy move.”

  Tara strummed lightly, eventually plucking the strings in sync with the track. “I don’t see the conflict. He was trying to reach out to you in your time of need.”

  “I don’t know how I can love a man who left his flesh and blood minutes after we were born.” Quinton turned his head toward her and kept his finger on the keyboard before him. “Play that part again for me.”

  Tara glanced up, aware that he was paying attention to what she’d been playing. She worked hard to keep her fingers steady as she played the chords with his intense gaze studying every move she made.

  “Again.”

  She did, slowing down at the final notes. “What are you thinking?”

  Quinton raised from the chair and stood behind her to watch. “Sssh. Play it again.”

  Tara rolled her eyes but did as he asked. “I can’t stand it when you get like this.”

  “Again. Like what?”

  “This,” she said until he hushed her into silence.

  “I’m trying to listen for something. Keep playing until I say stop.”

  If she didn’t know his process, Tara would have answered him with a few choice words. Instead, she complied, offering him a loop of the notes she strummed with her guitar.

  Quinton nodded, tapped a button, and let the equipment record her work. “Watch this,” he added, tapping a machine that delivered the sounds she heard when she first entered the room.

  “What are you hearing that I’m not getting?” she asked, removing the guitar when he told her she could stop.

  “You’ll see.”

  “You always say that.”

  “And you always got something to say, don’t you?” He grinned, reaching with his free hand to pull her closer to him. With his arm wrapped around her waist, she leaned into his embrace, using care not to aggravate his injury. “Just relax and let shit happen sometimes. It might surprise you.”

  “Yeah?”

  He leaned closer, and she felt every breath he took against her lips as if meant to be the air she needed. Quinton licked his lips, and with a tilt of his head, he paused only to say, “Yeah,”

  “I wish you would go to Vegas with us tomorrow.”

  Quinton shook his head, “Nah, I’m tired of playing with the media right now.”

  “You mean you don’t want to read the blogs the day after to see what tale they’ve come up with about the diva and the bad boy?” Tara asked, playfully pushing against his good shoulder.

  “You know I’m not like that. It’s all hype, an image for the fans,” he said, reiterating what she already knew.

  Swallowing nervously, she said, “I know who you are Quinton, but there is so much more I’m dying to find out about you.”

  “Like what?” he asked seductively, with the rising and falling of his chest visible.

  “Everything,” she replied, peering into his deep brown eyes.

  He watched her, aware of what she implied. “We back to naked painting again?” he teased.

  She rolled her eyes and turned away from him. “You know if you go to Vegas, you can always get a new tattoo.”

  He laughed. “I’m sure I’ll find my way back when it’s time for the next one. Why are you pressuring me into getting new ink?”

  “Maybe I want you to follow through on the bet you lost last year.”

  “Ain’t no way in hell I’m getting a tattoo of some damn cartoon character on my ass.”

  “A deal’s a deal.”

  “If that’s the case, you know what you owe me. No pressure, though. I’m sure one day I’ll get those panties.”

  “I lost that bet, didn’t I?” Tara smirked. “What were we doing that led to those kinds of stakes?”

  “That time, it wasn’t a bet, more like a promise.” Quinton hooked his fingers in the loops of her jeans and laughed when he continued. “You told me your pussy smells like rainbows, glitter, and sunshine.”

  Tara laughed. “That’s right. It was after my birthday party, and I was drunk, wasn’t I?”

  “Fucked all the way up. Probably off a wine cooler,” he teased. “Your ass never could hold any liquor. Told me you’d prove it, too. Said you were going into the bathroom to take off your panties for me to do a sniff test, and we damn near had to send a search party to look for you when you stayed gone in there forever. Sydney found your ass asleep in a tub with no water and every stitch of clothing still on you.” He doubled over with laughter. “Had me climbing in a tub to lift your drunk ass out of it and then carry your ass allllll the way upstairs to your room.”

  She grinned. “Don’t say I never let you take me to bed.”

  “Till I have proof that Tara Russell’s pussy smells like a Mariah Carey CD circa 1999, don’t say shit to me about getting that motherfuckin tattoo.”

  Tara turned to close the doors and locked them. She looked over her shoulder at Quinton, catching him staring back with confusion etched on his face.

  Without another word, Tara kicked off her sneakers and reached beneath the oversized sweatshirt that ran to her mid-thigh. She tugged at her pants until they dropped to her ankles and was stepping out of them when he asked from behind her. “What are you doing?”

  “Fair is fair,” she said, carefully slipping a pair of black panties over her hips and down her legs.

  “Blue, it’s fine. I was kidding. Pull your pants back up. We’ll call it even.”

  She stepped out of them and kicked the discarded underwear across the hardwood floor. Cocking her head to the side, she shrugged. “We shook on it.”

  Quinton bent to scoop them up and tucked the scrap of material into his pocket, flashing a grin. “I’ll review the evidence later and get back to you,” he said, winking at her. Folding his arms across his chest, he gave her a light shrug. “I didn’t get some snowman inked on my body, but I got something new since then.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Maybe this will make us good.” Quinton unhooked his sling and maneuvered his way out of his shirt. He then stepped forward and turned so she could look at the tattooed sleeve on his arm.

  “See anything that stands out?”

  Tara searched the designs leading up his arm. She was about to shake her head when the multiple numbers stood out. She touched them and looked at him for confirmation. “This is a date.”

  “You know what happened on that date?”

  She laughed softly to herself. “Hmm. I wonder w
hat possibly happened ten years ago?”

  “That hot ass July night changed my life forever, Blue.”

  “Is that right, Q-Tone?” she teased.

  He laughed with her and snatched her into a hug. She loved the way he felt and snuggled against him. Tara looked up in his face and smiled.

  “I also recall telling you that night you were destined to be a star, and you did nothing but doubt me.”

  “I never imagined the path my life took even in my wildest dreams.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes, and she rose on the tips of her toes to kiss him.

  “Can I kiss you again?” she asked.

  “Of course.” He leaned closer, dragging his teeth across his lower lip and gazing down at her.

  Instead, Tara eased down his legs and to her knees.

  “Blue, what are you doing?”

  She reached for his waistband and moved to lower his pants. His hand on top of hers stilled her. “Hey. What are you doing?”

  “Trying to kiss you.” Tara grinned up at him, and his now smoldering eyes stared down at her.

  He struggled to deny her. “Nah, babe. Stop messing with me.”

  “You don’t want me to?” she asked, with a taunting glint in her eye.

  “Oh, I do. I definitely do, but that’s not what you want to do.” He reached for her wrists, but she had already lowered his pants enough to expose thick coarse hair leading to the base of his penis, revealing his impressive girth.

  “Quinton, hush.”

  She reached for him, pulling his dick out. As she stroked its length, she felt his weighty erection getting thicker in her hand. Tara moved closer, extending her tongue first to lick it. She felt him watching her, and after running her tongue around the head, she traced every inch of its length with it.

  Quinton reached for the band securing her hair in place and pulled it off, freeing her mane and giving him something to push his fingers into as he held onto her head when she took him into her mouth.

  “Shit!” Quinton groaned it when the head reached the back of her throat. Tara’s head bobbed back and forth, wetting his now full erection as she continued stroking him and taking all she could into her mouth.

  Quinton reached to stop her several minutes later. “I need to sit down.”

  Tara looked at the spot where his wound had closed up. A raised, reddened, swollen mark on his thigh. “Oh, Quinton, I’m so sorry. What was I thinking?”

  “It’s all good. I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, checking to see if she further injured him. Quinton laughed and brought her to the sofa behind them.

  “Baby, I’m real good right now.”

  Still concerned, Tara looked back at him. “That was so selfish and insensitive of me.”

  Quinton’s laughter got louder.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Ah, Blue, come here,” he said, guiding her to his side and slipping her a kiss. “Now, where were we?”

  “You know what I was doing,” she said as a smile slowly crept into place.

  Quinton lowered himself, moving down the length of the sofa and between her legs. “It was something like this, right?”

  “No. I was the one doing the kissing. Quin,” she said, peering down at the back of his head. He moved to bury his face and kiss the inside of her thighs. The sweatshirt she wore had risen, giving him an unexpected glimpse of her. Tara reached to pull the top down, but he stilled her hand. “What are you doing?”

  “I want to see you.”

  Quinton touched her sensitive flesh and flicked his tongue against it, teasing her entry with it before diving in.

  “Quinton . . . what . . . are you . . . doing?” she tried to ask once more.

  He rose long enough to wink at her and smile. “Naked painting,” he said before going back to pleasing her.

  * * *

  She was about to have another orgasm, and he couldn’t wait for it to become unleashed. Quinton felt the way her walls gripped his fingers, contracting around them and working to bring her over the edge again. She cried out as she came, looking more beautiful than she did when the first one hit her.

  Once it subsided, he rose from between her legs and moved into position above her.

  Tara opened her dazed eyes and smiled. “Who knew it was like that,” she teased before reaching between them to stroke him.

  “I been tryin’ to tell you,” Quinton taunted her back.

  Her fingers wrapped around him made his erection ache. He wanted, no, needed to be balls deep inside her, but they’d already gone far enough.

  “You good now?”

  She gave him a cute grin as if drunk off the dick he longed to give her. “Nope,” she said, trying to force a straight face. “Not even close.”

  “You suck at lying.”

  “And you’re cocky.”

  He moved and let his dick smack against her thigh. “I got your cocky.”

  “Then let me have it.”

  “Have what?”

  Tara moved to stroke him some more, this time rubbing him against her pussy, letting his width part her lips. “Hoping you.”

  Their eyes met. Beneath him, he felt her legs spread further. When the head moved to where it wanted to go, he discovered her opening was wet and waiting.

  “Blue, don’t tempt me.”

  She pushed her pelvis forward, grabbing his ass, pulling him to her. Quinton couldn’t put up much of a fight, losing control from her nearness as soon as his dick got a taste of what she offered and he thrust into her. Her eyes flew open, and she gasped. The next time she moved her hips to meet his, Quinton plunged in feeling Tara’s body open just for him, and she called out his name, begging for more.

  Hearing her urgent cry, he thrust again and again, deeper and harder each time, with Tara’s tight, slick walls contracting around him.

  “Don’t stop,” she urged until her strongest, most intense orgasm yet milked him forcing his own climax building inside him to erupt, and Quinton ejaculated deep inside her.

  Minutes later, their breathing returned to normal as they started to float down from their high.

  “Shit,” he cursed, letting his forehead drop against hers and cursed again under his breath. He looked into her now worried eyes and immediately apologized. “I wasn’t wearing a condom.”

  “It’s fine. We should be okay.”

  “You sure?”

  “I have an IUD. It’s there just in case,” she paused. “I just know that condoms fail and . . .” She shrugged off the words before looking away. “And I’m clean.”

  Quinton kissed her forehead. “Me too.”

  She smiled, but it appeared to be more out of relief.

  “Despite what you think of me, I don’t just run up in women like I suffer from wayward dick syndrome.”

  “You said that like I’m judging you.”

  “You are.”

  She laughed, causing her to contract around him, stirring his penis.

  He moved, freeing her of his weight, and stopping himself from going back for seconds. However, he wanted to continue to feel her near him. Quinton reached for the blanket draped over the back of the sofa and tossed it over them, not ready to see her go just yet. She turned her body to face him, which didn’t help keep his erection from returning.

  “I’m blowing off Vegas.”

  Quinton countered. “You can’t do that.”

  “Not the whole thing. Just putting my trip off by a day. They don’t need me until the day after tomorrow, so I’m gonna stay here.”

  “To hang with me?” he rubbed her bare leg beneath the cover, and she curled tighter around him. “That’s what’s up.”

  She teased him, reaching to stroke his length slowly. “Cocky much? And no.”

  He bent to look at her face as it rested on his chest.

  Her eyes met his, and she smiled. “I want to spend the day with Aaron and you.”

/>   Quinton smacked her ass, and she giggled, wiggling against his body. “Since Little Man’s asleep, tonight’s all me, right?”

  “Yeah, Quinton. All you.” Tara sank beneath the throw blanket that barely covered their nudeness and moved her body down his length, not stopping until she heard him moan.

  Chapter 12

  “I heard Miss Thang over there spent the day traipsing around L.A. like a damn tourist.”

  Tara caught Justin and her stylist Chantal carrying on across the room and wished she hadn’t. Tara’s head pounded from the tension mounting inside her. With an eye compress draped across her face, Tara tried her hardest to let her short rest be worthwhile. She needed her headache gone if she planned to tackle her jam-packed schedule. Media interviews and prearranged interactions with fans who had purchased tickets to the awards show meant Tara had no time for a headache right now.

  Tara lifted the compress to glance around the room and muttered to no one in particular. “To think I got through everything on Sydney’s to-do list so I could get some quiet time alone, and this is what I end up with.”

  She let out a heavy sigh and replaced the compress, regretting the alone time she hoped to have with Aaron would have to wait.

  Her ‘glam squad’ and team had filled her villa at The Bellagio to overflowing. Her publicists, stylists, label execs, and anyone else needed to help her prepare for the big evening were there, and they all were equally contributing to her persistent headache.

  “Oh, good, you’re up.” Justin lifted the compress from her face and nudged someone toward Tara, who had eyebrow tools in tow. “You should’ve been there last night, sis. Mia showed up, and I’m telling you your sister stopped the club. Shut shit down on the spot. The girl was fierce. I wish you could have been there to see it.”

  “Thank goodness I wasn’t,” Tara mumbled. She was exactly where she wanted to be last night. Tara still felt the hardness of Quinton’s body pressed against hers when she woke up during the night after making their way inside the house to her bedroom.

  “I thought your other sister was presenting the award, too.”

  “Jordan probably didn’t feel like hanging out. She’s not the partying type.” She hadn’t heard from either sister in quite some time since she came home from the hospital.