The last few days have been awkward, Paul has been careful around me, almost to the point of frustration. I get it, maybe I don't but I am trying to get used to the changes, to having people live with us. Flipping through channels, I settle for HipTV, adjust the pillow behind my head and pull the blanket up to my chin. No one is talking about me resuming work, especially Mr Adams, he has taken bed rest to mean I am incapable of working. It's worse with Paul, the only thing I am allowed to do without help is breathe.
Paul's rich voice forces my attention from the television, he flashes me a smile and my heart does a little somersault. I look away as he nears the couch, phone plugged to his ear with a tray which he drops on a stool he pulls close to me. Placing my legs on his laps, he points to the tray and I roll my eyes, at this rate, I will be triple my former size in no time. He is always trying to feed me.
The aroma from the tray tickles my nostrils, I spare it a glance and a wide grin breaks out on my face, I can never say no to him or peppered beef, he knows that, he has found my weakness. I sit up, he adjusts so my legs are still resting on his laps. Tingles shoot up from my curled toes, spreading to all parts of my body as his fingers continue tracing random shapes on the sole of my feet.
Chewing with my eyes trained on him, the smile on his face transfers to mine, I wink and blow him a kiss. His eyes return to me after a few seconds of silence, he mouths the words, "Do you want to speak with my dad?" I shake my head so fast, he chuckles. I love that he and his father have put aside their humongous egos to reconcile but I have not the slightest clue what I will say.
Hey, it's your girl, Pauline, the lady who almost cost you the election. Congratulations on winning, cheers to another four years.
A giggle escapes me, I think not too. Saying it to myself sounds ludicrous enough, I don't need to further embarrass me and Paul.
"Yes, she wants to speak to you."
The beef in my mouth loses taste as soon as those words leave Paul's lips, I hesitate to accept the phone he transfers to me until the voice from the other end asks if anyone is on the line. Pressing the phone to my ear, I murmur greetings to him and try not to freak out over the fact I am speaking to the governor of my state. I swallow when he responds with a warmer greeting and relax as Paul starts massaging my shoulders.
We exchange pleasantries, crack stale jokes, not a word about the kidnap is mentioned, a few minutes later I return Paul's phone to him after smacking him on his arm. He doesn't spend long with his father before the call ends and I lean back into the couch as his arms resume their sensual massage.
"You are not eating?" His breath fans my cheek, I insert pieces of beef into my mouth and glare at him with puffy cheeks. He chuckles, the tips of our noses brush against each other and warmth spread through me.
"Why aren't you at work?" I love our time together but it shouldn't be at the expense of the hotel. "You haven't gone in weeks."
My eyes tail his movements as he returns to place my legs on his laps, his chest catches my attention, his defined abs has my fingers itching to touch him. I suspect he parades about the house in shorts to get back at me for the antic I pulled last time, I frown, he won't even let me touch him how I want. And I want to touch him in many ways. Heat pools at my core at the reminder of that heated session, however brief and I rub my legs together to ease the throbbing.
"Someone has to be around to take care of you," I roll my eyes, "I don't have a job. You fired me, remember?" He chuckles. "Boss."
My eyes lower to my feet on his laps, the corners of my lips lift into a small smile. "I was angry, you guys lied to me. Come back."
"Understandable." I raise my head to reply him but he continues, "But I don't want to, it's not a good idea for us to work together."
His words hurt more than I care to admit, I flinch like he hit me and my eyes sting with unshed tears. I make to remove my legs from his laps but he stops me with his hands around my ankles. He groans when I look up to him, my palms rub up and down my arms, I blink and jut my lower lip.
"Babe."
"Is it because I am a woman?" He shakes his head. "You don't want a female boss? Am I a bad boss?" I sigh. "You are tired of me."
The look on Paul's face elicits a sarcastic chuckle from me, he pulls me up to sit on his laps and his thumb caresses the corners of my lips. I tuck my head into the crook of his neck and breathe his scent in, I can't get enough of him, I am never letting go.
"No, you're not a bad boss, you're the best," his hand lowers to the small of my back, "and I can never be tired of you." I smile into his shoulder, nuzzle his neck, then raise my head to ask him why he won't be returning to Pavilion. He sighs, I peck his lips. "I don't want to work for you knowing how easily you can fire me when you get angry. If I'm to be fired, it has to be because of my incompetence, not personal matters."
"But it was only once."
"Yeah," he nods and a small smile crawls to his lips, "the other time you threatened to do it and then you actually did it. Our love life shouldn't affect our work life, you know that but it's not the case. I don't like it."
My arms wound around his neck. "Sorry. I'll change," he chuckles, "I'm serious. Who will cook for me? I want to eat only your food."
Our eyes jerk to the television playing a new song, he reaches for the remote to reduce the volume and my finger circles his nipple. I giggle at the size, it's too tiny, more or less the size of an overgrown pimple. My mouth closes over one while my fingers fondle with the second one, he cups my butt to knead it, I bounce on his bulge and moan.
"I will still cook for you, you know I love cooking for you but I'll like to explore other places too." I nod and bite his nipple, I don't want to hold him back from living his best life, that's why he's here in Calabar to begin with. "If it doesn't work out, I'll come back to you. My love, you will have me, right?"
Paul bursts into laughter as if he can tell I don't want his job search to work out. I don't want him working anywhere else except for me or himself but I smile and peck his lips. He slides the strap of my gown down my shoulders, my breasts spill out and he cast me a glance before his head lowers to it. I moan when he takes one of my taut nipples in his mouth, my head falls back as my nails dig into the couch and I rotate my waist slow enough for him to let go of my nipple with a pop and groan into my ear.
Palming my breasts, he kneads and pinches my nipples until I am a moaning mess, my shaky hands reach for the waistband of his shorts to free his dick but he grabs them above my head. I groan, free myself from his grasp and attempt to reach inside his shorts. When he stops me, I adjust the strap of my gown but he pulls it down, I sigh, he can't keep doing this to me. I have needs too.
Silence falls over us, I cross my arms on my chest to demand an explanation. "You don't want to have sex with me?" Annoyance leaks into my voice, tears well up my eyes but they don't fall. "Is that it?" he shakes his head, "then why do you keep stopping me?"
"Because the doctor said you need to rest."
I roll my eyes. "That day, we almost had sex and you didn't care that I was on bed rest."
Another song comes on, I sigh and snatch the remote from the couch to switch off the television. The only sound I want to hear is our combined moans as he makes love to me but he won't, all he does is tease me.
"I got carried away and it's a good thing you stopped me. The doctor said no strenuous exercise until you are strong enough." My chest falls, I should have let us go through with it last week. His hands sneak inside my gown, he cups my butt and my lips part open, I want more than this. "Babe, there's no rush. I am always here for you, we will do whatever you want once you feel better."
"But I feel better," I say. He arches a brow, I sigh. Maybe I still feel weak but the sex will be worth it. I want him inside of me again, to feel the magic of our bodies and I don't want to wait for so long. "I don't like you."
"I love you."
My eyes lift to his face, I scan his feature for any indication he said what I think I heard. His lips break out into a contagious grin, I weave my fingers through his beards and pull it gently. "Paul. What did you say?"
"Let's go on a date." Oh. My shoulders sink with disappointment at his words. "I want us to go back to how we were, back to when we were not cautious around each other. We can start it with a date, home dinner?"
"We have been eating dinner since, I don't want," I snap and mumble an apology at his crumbled expression. "What is the plan?"
He stares at me to the point I grow shy, I look down at his chest and murmur another apology. I don't know if I am disappointed by my mishearing or the fact we can't have sex but a weight settles on my shoulders. We are taking things too slow, slower than what I am used to. My horny self wants to jump his bones, touch my sexy boyfriend in all the right places and let him do the same but I know it won't happen today or tomorrow. I swear he is more careful than the doctor, I don't miss a dose of my drugs.
"You will dress up, I will too." I nod. Most of my clothes are in his place, I had to stop him from buying more knowing the amount I already have. "You can make up in Chi's room too." I hit him on the arm at the mention of her name. "Okay, no makeup." I hit him again. "Sorry na." I hit him harder this time. "Ify," he pouts, "what did I do?"
To think I referred to Chi as my competition makes me want to hit him again, I stick my tongue out and he lifts me. My legs circle his waist as we saunter to our bedroom, I wrap my arms around his head and wonder if it's okay to let him know how I feel about him. I am sure I heard right, maybe I didn't, I don't know anymore but it would have felt good hearing him say that. Paul loves me. I hope he does but I'll let him say it at his time.
When we get to the room, he lowers me to the bed and his lips claim mine in a feverish kiss. My fingers relocate to the back of his head, his tongue thrusts into my mouth and I moan into his lips. He pulls away to litter open-mouthed kisses all over my lips, face before covering my mouth back with his.
"What was that for?" I ask when we break apart with my fingers on my tingling lips.
Moving to the front of his wardrobe, he turns to ask, "Do I need a reason to kiss my girlfriend?" His words leave me grinning, I cross my legs at the ankles and shake my head. "Good." His eyes return to his clothes, he takes out a garment bag. "But you should get dressed, we don't want to be late."
Giggles spill from my lips, my head falls back with laughter at his seriousness. "If we are staying at home, why do I have to dress up?" The glare he sends me has me smiling, I stand to join him by the wardrobe. "Fine. Whatever za boyfriend wants, he will get."
"You don't want it?"
My eyes lower to my feet. "I want it too." I am rewarded with a small smile, he leaves soon after and tells me to come out in ten minutes. I roll my eyes at the door, if I will apply makeup, ten minutes is not enough for me to even finish on my eyebrows.
Minutes later, a knock sounds on the door, I look away from the mirror to stare at it but it doesn't push open neither does the knock come again. My hand smoothens the front of my satin gown, I bite my lips, tempted to change out of my outfit because of how overdressed I am for a home date. I shrug and adjust the neckline before the doubts overshadow the logical thoughts. Paul said to look my best, this is my best and I hope he repays the gesture, I won't let it slide if he turns up in those shorts or a singlet.
Ditching a full face beat due to a lack of time, my face is bare except for the winged eyeliner and my signatory red lipstick. I fluff my high puff to lend volume to it, lay my baby hairs, twirl and wink at my beautiful reflection in the mirror. Paul better get ready to shower praises on his baby. I smack my lips, slide my feet into my two inches heel and step out of the room.
One of the bodyguards is at the door, I have to hold in my laughter at his outfit. Paul talked to them, they are barely in the house so it's easy to forget them but the few times I see them, they are always on black jeans and polo. I am not sure if that's their uniform but seeing him in a blue packet shirt tucked into plain black trousers has a smile tugging on my lips. My eyes lower to his shoes, I do a double take, he's wearing a real shoe, not those combat boots. Wow.
"Hey," I greet. "How's it going?" He replies with less enthusiasm and starts towards the big dining room we have never used.
The ambience of the house changes with each step forward, the dim lights of the corridor illuminate our path. Slow music plays in the background and my eyes round to saucers at the petals decorating the floor. I place a hand over my galloping heart, feeling fuzzy on the inside at the thoughts that went into planning this. Each step I take exposes my thigh, I hope he is pleased with my outfit as I cast a nervous glance around when we approach the empty table.
"Thank you," I tell him when he pulls out a chair for me, he nods. "What of Paul?"
"He will join you shortly."
My hands rub against my knees as my eyes scan the room, it looks different. The bright lights have been replaced to something dimmer to suit the atmosphere and my heart swells with love. At the centre of our table are stainless steel bowls of different sizes, my fingers itch to lift the lids and find out the content, instead, I drum them against the table. My fingers trace the rim of the wine flutes turned upside down, I giggle and hug myself, I have the best boyfriend.
The guard places a bucket of wine by the side of the table, I make to ask about Paul again when he saunters in with his hand brushing the top of his head. Our gazes meet, my breath catches in my throat and I stand there, dumbfounded until he wraps his arm around my waist. His eyes scan my outfit, lingering on my cleavage and I smile shyly. He pecks me on both cheeks, holds me at arm's length and lets out a low whistle.
"Baby la hot," he starts, "asa nwa." I smack him on the arm, grinning at his praises. He spins me around, shakes his head and lets out another whistle. "Pepper dem gang." I giggle, okay, he's being extra but I love it.
Placing one hand on his chest, I let the other hang from his waist. "You wore a suit."
"You said you have never seen me in one," he spares himself a glance, "do you like it?" I nod, I more than like it, we are both specs.
The suit looks tailored to his body, the gold lace trimmings on the collar of his jacket matches the buttons which are undone. I have always admired him on casual wears but this puts all of them to shame. My boo is hot, the real chairman of pepper dem gang.
Bringing out my phone to take selfies of us, I give him a quick kiss and say, "I love it."
He takes a seat at the head of the dining table while I sit on his right, guard one steps forward to place plates in front of us and guard two lifts the lids. Steam escapes the bowls, the aroma tantalises my nostrils and I turn to Paul with a small smile, I don't need to be told whose handwork this is.
"Are you on Instagram?" I ask and place my phone face down. He takes my hand in his and I smile as sparks travel up my arm.
"I barely visit social media, I have not used that app in months so I'm not sure I can remember my password. Why? What's up?"
Guard two fills our flutes with the sparkling wine from the bucket, I lift my glass in Paul's direction. "Cheers to new beginnings. To us." Our glasses clinch, I take a sip of the wine, nod in approval and drop my flute on the table. Paul's brow arches when I dig into my meal, I giggle, almost tempted to delay my response to his earlier question.
"Instagram is a good place to advertise your cooking," I say after my first bite. He nods. "Try to remember your password or we can create a new account to show off your skills. Your customer or new boss," I chuckle and wink, "might be waiting for you. That's it."
Bringing my plate closer to him, he cuts my chicken into thin strips and I try so hard not to pinch his cheeks, he is the best. I know we are eating jollof rice because it is my favourite meal, my heart constricts and I can't help feeling I don't do enough for him. He pushes the plate back to me, I offer him a smile and he rewards me with a kiss to my knuckles without breaking eye contact. His intense gaze has moisture gathering in my panties, I clear my throat and erupt into a fit of coughs when he licks his lower lip.
God, I sigh, this handsomeness is too much for only one man. He rubs my back until my coughing subsidies, I gulp the water he passes me and look away. We eat in silence which is broken at intervals by the light questions and fun tales we throw around. I snort when he recalls an experience with his neighbour's dog and his frown deepens when I tease him with a nickname I got from Chi. It is his turn to laugh when I tell him about my one-time encounter with weed, after he cautions me, he goes on to have a good laugh at my expense. I pout.
"When's the SheilaKing show?" I ask as our conversation moves to food. He drops his cutlery, pushes his plate aside and offers me a smile, a mischievous smile. "When is it?"
I take a sip from the flute perched between my fingers, Paul's says it's nonalcoholic so I don't have to worry about getting drunk. Our time at the club replays in my mind, I giggle, as much as the events of that night led us to this stage, I don't want a repeat.
"Tomorrow." I spit out my drink and smack his arm when he chuckles. A guard makes to step forward but he waves him off and reaches for the only untouched bowl.
"Are you prepared?"
He spares me a glance, I shrug. "It's cooking, there's nothing to prepare for," I purse my lips, if he says so, "but I made something."
The smile I reward him with lights up my face, I am glad he is taking it seriously. He opens the bowl, I close my eyes to inhale the strange but soothing aroma. Seconds after staring at the sauce without a name coming to mind, I look to him for an explanation.
"It's a foreign recipe I tweaked to give it a more Nigerian feel," he starts. I nod and the pad of my thumb brushes his lips, I cannot even follow an online recipe successfully let alone tweak it. "Remember I told you we have to create a special dish on the last day of the contest, I want to use this for it."
My head bobs, a strange feeling settles over me at the tug of my heartstrings and I smile at him, barely hearing a word he says. For some unknown reasons, I am suddenly jealous of how passionate he is about cooking, I know I am being an awful girlfriend for having such thoughts but the guilt doesn't lessen that feeling. I love my job, it's what I have always wanted to do but my excitement pales in comparison to his and it leaves me with a strange emptiness.
He finally notices my mood. "What is it?" His lips curl into a smile. "Am I boring you?"
"No," I look down at my legs, "you are so passionate about cooking. I love it."
Taking my hands, he rubs my knuckles against his cheek. "Yeah? I love it too. That's the same way you are about your job," he scatters kisses all over my knuckles, "so passionate and I love it." I didn't realise how much I needed to hear these words until he says, "You are the best at what you do."
My fingers reach out to touch his face, my heart nearly explodes with pride at hearing him say that to me. He takes my finger into his mouth to nibble on it, I smile so much my cheeks hurt. I love this man; I love him.
"Do you want to guess the name? Try." His eyes dart to the bowl, I purse my lips and pretend to think about it. "Guess. it's easy."
I clear my throat. "Piccololo lavida loca."
Paul's expression cracks me up, I burst out laughing with my hands clutching my sides. In truth, I have no idea what I mentioned nor where I heard it from but the look he gave me was worth it. Priceless. I stick my tongue out, he frowns and I palm his face.
"Haha. Funny." I giggle, he tries to fight off the smile which slowly makes its way to his lips. "Alright, I will tell you." I nod and place my hands on top of each other on the table. "The name is..." he trails off to wiggle his brows, I roll my eyes. "The name is Ify."
"What?" I ask with a look of confusion.
"Ify." He beams, I frown. "I will call it Ify," he winks, "after my beautiful girlfriend."
**********
I couldn't break the chapter so here you go with 4139 words. Happy reading. Don't forget to Comment, Vote, Follow and share with your Wattpad friends.