Free Vérité by Rachel Blaufeld Page A

those guys are my family, for better or worse. They know I got white blood running through my veins. My eyes are as blue as any Swede’s. Also means my dad had white blood somewhere deep in him. They shoulda known better than to make those comments about jungle-love bullshit.”
    A tremor ran through his body. I felt it travel through him to his fingertips that rested on my biceps, and it made my heart bleed for him.
    “You’re the most wonderful man, Tiberius. A handsome, kind gentleman just like your mom raised you to be,” I said, staring him straight in the eye.
    “I want to kiss you,” he blurted. “Is that wrong of me? I mean, I should be grieving, but I want to kiss you so bad. More than take my next breath.”
    I didn’t answer or wait. I hopped down from the barstool, reached up on my tippy-toes, and brought his mouth down to mine. The kiss wasn’t hard like in the elevator; it was soft and tender, full of promise.
    When I ran my tongue along the seam where his lips met, he opened and let my tongue in. As he slid his tongue into my mouth, we explored the depths of each other—physically and emotionally—because giving in to this was a statement. On both our parts.
    Although I would never settle for Tiberius accepting he was anything less than the magnificent man he was, I was scared I wasn’t woman enough for him.
    Lost in the heat of the moment, Tiberius ran his hands down my sides, his thumbs grazing my small breasts. My hands were wound around his neck, my thumb tracing the edge of his fade haircut where it met his damp skin. Our kiss seemed to deepen with every second that passed until there was a loud banging on the door.
    “Christ! What now?” Tiberius yelled as he broke away from me, then turned away to adjust himself in his sweats. They weren’t doing much at hiding what he was packing.
    A small thrill ran through me at the thought that I did that. Made him that way.
    More banging rattled the door, the pounding increasing in intensity.
    Tiberius trudged to the door and threw it open. “What, Mel?” he barked.
    “Just checkin’ on you,” Jamel answered, walking straight into the hallway without being invited. “Your little white bitch came lookin’ for you,” he said as he turned the corner, and his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of me.
    “Cool it, Mel,” Tiberius said, a hint of steel running through his vocal cords.
    My words were once again trapped in my own throat. I plopped back into the stool and continued to stare wide-eyed at the interaction.
    “No one is a white bitch, man. Okay? Rex, I mean Tingly, is a person,” he said, shaking his head. “A person like you. No one is walking around calling you names.” Tiberius paced the room, his large feet padding heavily on the carpet.
    “Well, you said yourself this bitch was running hot and cold. I didn’t like it.”
    Jamel stared daggers at me, his biceps flexing and rippling, his dark eyes laser-focused on me. I tried not to flinch, but wasn’t very successful.
    “Shit, Jamel! Look what you’re doing to her. She’s shaking in her seat. Fuck! That’s not the way you treat women, my man,” Tiberius said as he got right up in Jamel’s face.
    “I think I’ll go,” I whispered as I slowly stood and tried to sneak behind Jamel to get to the door.
    Once again, I felt like I was right back where I started, getting caught with someone I shouldn’t be with. Why did I keep doing that?
    “Hey, you,” Jamel hollered at me.
    “Don’t,” Tiberius yelled, but then controlled his tone. “Don’t go.” He caught my arm and pulled me up next to him as equal parts warmth and anger rolled off him.
    “Listen, you don’t need this right now.” I twisted my wrist free from his grasp, but chills racked through me as soon as I left his heat.
    “Tingly, don’t do this,” he called out, but I was already running away.
    Toward what, I had no clue.

S weat poured down my back, soaking my sports bra and my tank, but I continued to