Unfaithful - (Part 3)
A Man Torn: Between the Love He Denies and the Hunger He Can’t Control.
Catch Up!
“Jamal, you’ve been awfully quiet.” Shayla’s voice was thick with suspicion, her nails clicking against the rim of her glass.
I stabbed at my salad, barely tasting it. “Just got a lot on my mind.”
“Mmm.” She tilted her head. “You mean Mr. Sexy has you all twisted up, running circles in that head of yours. He must’ve put it down.”
I swiped a grape from her plate, rolling it between my fingers before popping it into my mouth. “Just stop. You know it’s not that simple for me.”
“Oh, I know.” She smirked, propping her elbow on the table. “All I do know is that since we got back to Chicago, you’ve had this dumbass grin stuck on your face. Someone’s in love.” She broke into an exaggerated melody, making a spectacle of it.
I straightened my back, reached for my napkin, and dabbed at my mouth with deliberate care. “Shayla, please. You know I don’t believe in that love shit. Be serious.”
She rolled her eyes and took a slow sip of her spiked ginger ale. “Just because you don’t believe in love doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
Before I could argue, a voice cut through the conversation—deep, smooth, and distracting.
“Would you like to try our dessert special today?”
I looked up.
And there he was.
Had to be new. There's no way I would’ve missed him before.
Tall. Firm. That fresh, barely-touched kind of temptation. Six-foot-four built just right—broad shoulders, thick thighs, and a face too pretty for his own good.
I liked them tall. I liked them solid. And I liked them hard.