Free My Number One: Kasha & Knox by Janice Ross Page A

last night. I thought we already confirmed that.” Erika’s pupils darted between Rory and me. I could have sworn I saw sweat drops at the tip of her nose.
    “No, you were at that other spot a couple months ago.” Rory snapped his fingers. “Remember, Knox, the chick that spilled beer on you.”
    I studied him, then dragged my focus over to her.
    She pouted more than before. After loosening a strand of hair close to her crown, she twirled it between two fingers. “I recognized you last night.”
    “So why didn’t you say something?”
    “A girl can’t act shy?” Her breasts eased close to my chest. She did a sloppy job of trying to be slick. Yet I don’t think she cared. “Got some time for me?”
    I wasn’t sure about her at this point, whether it was her being underhanded or just interested. “What are your plans for later?” I replied, wanting to see her vulnerable once more.
    “My plans for later are . . .” Erika massaged my forearm while kneeling in the seat. She swooped in close to my ear and whispered a twenty-second tale, reminding me of what she could finish from when we were in the car. Once done, her lips just barely brushed against the side of my face. “Here’s my card. My personal cell number is on the back. Your move. I’ll be waiting.” She strolled off.
    Her heels clicked on the faux tile floor. The door pulled, chimes clinking in response. I knew she’d walked out, although my face wasn’t in view. I stuck Erika’s card into my pocket. Although there was no reason to, my mind flashed on Kasha. Erika was no Kasha, but at least she showed interest in being more than just a friend.
    ~
    Erika’s place wasn’t far from Arthur Avenue in The Bronx. With my Camaro out of commission, I hopped a yellow taxi. I left Rory at the hotel we had to rent for the weekend; he was in deep discussion with the oddball, Rhys. Bash had disappeared. We figured he must’ve hooked up with some chick. He always had some underhanded hook up. No one ever knew who he was banging, not so much as a glance. You’d think we hadn’t known each other for all this time.
    As the cab rolled up to the curb, I searched out the address, paid the cabbie, slammed the door shut, and headed up Erika’s stairs. Before I could knock, she flung it open.
    “Eager much?” I teased. She escorted me into the house. The air was crisp and fresh, while the design and layout were open, inviting. There wasn’t a whole lot of furniture to clutter up the rooms; and oak floors and bright golden fixtures made the place pop.
    “I don’t entertain much—” Erika started by stretching out the explanation.
    “So, a few hours ago, I met an incredibly sexual hottie. Two consenting adults, both horny as hell were unable to find their way inside of a Camaro. Absolutely nothing was wrong with the car, well, not when they first got there.” I let my introduction sink in. Erika’s chest quivered up and down. We crossed the other end to the foyer leading up a short hallway and past a stunning dining room. Don’t get me wrong. The place was just right. And for someone who renovated homes for a living, I could’ve admired it all damn day. But I didn’t care to prolong the inevitable.
    Erika cleared her throat, and encouraged me to continue by bobbing her head.
    “Well, this man and woman practically attacked one another. Can you believe it, right there in an open—secluded, but still open—parking lot? Dude got handed everything a man could want. He still can’t shake the image of the woman’s business spread across his hood.”
    I tucked my fingers beneath a thick, red laced mini. It crumbled from the top and would’ve hit the floor, were it not for Erika’s wide hips and ample ass. As the clothes lingered, clinging with purpose, I spread my fingers wide. I gripped those same hips, the ones that women who craved that ideal Coca Cola shape would kill for. My hands were wide enough to span around her sides and reach her rump. I pushed