Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

LONDON

"Why can't you understand, Taylor?" I mutter, becoming more than just a little frustrated with him.

The day had been good. I'd gotten to see several of my students having a blast at the fair, and I didn't want it to be ruined.

Taylor and I met right after I got back from spending my summer vacation with my dad. He and I hit it off, and we'd gone on more than just a couple of dates. Not once did he put the pressure on me. Other than making out, we hadn't done anything else. I told him I didn't want to rush things. It wasn't that I didn't want to. I guess it's hard to tell him I am a virgin.

He's been pushing for me to stay at his place, but I'm just not ready.

"Come on, babe, it's been a few months now." Taylor sighs frustratedly and brushes a hand through his hair. "You never want to come to my place. It's always meet up somewhere. Hell, you won't even let me pick you up from your place."

It's true. I always drove myself to meet him. I guess it's a trust thing with me. I want to be sure about things, and I still have not decided where Taylor's concerned. I mean, I like him and all, but . . .

I don't know what's holding me back.

My dad said I had a great intuition and I just needed to hone it in. This past summer, he asked me to stay with him, and I didn't mind since I loved being able to go to Lake Belton. While I'd been with him, he declared I needed to refresh my self-defense. He didn't want me to forget how to protect myself. Of course, I gave in because he was right. You can never be too careful.

Maybe that's why I'm being cautious. But we'd been dating for a little I should be feeling more comfortable with him, so why haven't I let him to my place or gone to his?

"Taylor—"

"Babe, seriously, I'm tired of the hot-cold act," he snaps, stepping closer as he interrupts me, his hand going to my waist. "It's time to move shit along."

"Hot-cold act?" I shove away from him and zero in on him with a sharp glare. "Excuse me if I'm not a slut who jumps into bed with just anyone."

"I'm not just anyone," Taylor sneers.Shaking my head, I turn to leave, but he catches my arm. "Where are you going?"

"Home," I answer and yank at my arm. Taylor tightens his grip so I can't move away from him.

I open my mouth and tell him to let me go when I find myself free.

"What the fuck?" Taylor snarls and looks to his right.

I glance there as well to see Damari standing there, hand latched to Taylor's wrist.

"Damari," I murmur, lifting my gaze to his. "What are you doing?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Taylor demands at the same time.

"Think she said she was going home," Damari mutters, letting Taylor go and shoving him back as he steps in front of me.

What in the world is he doing?

I haven't seen him since that night when I ran into him at the bar where I gave him my number. He never called. It sucked, but more, it was humiliating. I shouldn't have given him my number. I mean, he probably has someone in his life.

"London, who is this guy? He the reason you don't want me at your place? Won't come to mine?" Taylor's voice grows loud enough to draw attention.

Something I don't need when some of the people are parents to my students.

"Watch it," Damari remarks.

"No, buddy, you best watch it," Taylor snaps.

"Everything good here, Diablo?"

I glance around to see who the newcomer is to find one of my student's dad standing there wearing the same vest thing Damari is wearing.

Wait, did he call Damari Diablo? Is that his nickname?

"Yeah, Daemon, everything's good. This guy was just about to be on his way," Damari says, hands on his hips.

I didn't have to see his face to sense the rolling anger coming from him.

Why though?

He didn't need to intervene. I could've handled things myself. I didn't need any help.

"We'll see to him, brother," the dad says, eyes coming to me. "Ms. Weaver." He nods curtly.

Damari turns to me. "Go ahead and get in your car, Chiquita."

Coming out of my stupor caused by his closeness, I plant my hands on my hips. "Don't tell me what to do, Damari. I didn't need you to intervene, and I didn't ask you to."

Damari cocks a brow and steps into my space. "You might not have, but I made a promise to you a long time ago that I'd watch your back."

"That was a long time ago." I huff and throw my hands in the air. I don't even know why I'm getting frustrated. Turning away from him, I reach into my cross-body purse and dig my keys out. I unlock my car, the same car I've had since my eighteenth birthday, and get in without so much as a backward glance.

"You've got to be kidding me," I mutter under my breath as I park in front of my apartment building and look to my second spot to see Damari pulling his motorcycle into it.

Turning the ignition off, I snatch the key and get out, glaring at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Upstairs," he grunts, jerking his chin toward the building.

"No way," I snap, crossing my arms and taking a stand. "You can leave."

"London, get upstairs. I'm not doing this out here," Damari says, stepping closer. He reaches for my wrist and tugs at it, forcing me to drop my arms.

Damari guides the way up to my apartment, not letting me go.

It dawns on me that he knows which door is mine when he stops and takes the keys from my hands.

"How do you know which apartment I live in?"

Damari doesn't answer me right away as he unlocks the door and shoves it open for both of us to go through.

Once alone behind my apartment door, he lets me go, and I whirl around to face him. "Are you going to answer my question now?"

"I followed you to make sure that asshat didn't," he answers.

"Damari—"

"Diablo," he says, interrupting me.

"What?" I blink.

"Everyone calls me Diablo now." The way he shares this tells me to leave the subject alone.

"Fine. Diablo," I insinuate his name with a roll of my eyes. I much prefer Damari. Damari to me was my hero. "I didn't need you to do anything, let alone follow me home. And you still haven't told me how you knew not only where I live but which apartment."

"Looked into you," he informs me like it was no big deal.

"Excuse me?" I demand on a breath. "You looked into me?"

"Yeah, wanted to make sure you were doing good after I saw you at the bar."

"And you couldn't do that by just calling me and finding out for yourself, through, um, you know, maybe talking to me?"

I can't believe him. Who does he think he is?

You know what? I'm done. I can't handle this right now. "You need to leave."

"I'm not leaving, Chiquita. We need to talk," Diablo says.

I stare at the man, getting a close look, not seeing any of the boy who protected me. Not even a hint of who I used to know. I guess it's right to call him Diablo. There's no Damari left in him.

"Fine, say what you need to say, then leave. I've got papers to grade, and I need to get ready for next week. With Thanksgiving break coming up, I need to get them done so I can enjoy the break and not worry about anything else but how much turkey and stuffing I'm going to eat." And the corn pudding. And the green bean casserole. Then, of course, the potatoes and gravy. I intend to pig out on as much as I can.

Dad cooks a mean meal. We have dinner together every year, and his team joins us. It's great, and I love being at a table full of people who made a family among each other.

Diablo mutters something under his breath, his head back and his eyes looking to the ceiling while his hands are braced on his hips.

"What was that?" I demand, swearing I heard him say something about putting me over his knee. But that can't be right.

Bringing his gaze back to mine, his eyes narrow slits, but he doesn't say anything. Not one word. Instead, he shocks me by moving fully in my space, one arm going around my waist, the other in my hair, holding me in place as he slams his mouth to mine.

Mother of all kisses.

Diablo is kissing me.

Me.

Holy sweet potato pie, I never saw it coming.

Nor did I expect to allow myself to fall into it and kiss him back.