Beauty and the Beast (14 page)

Changed from his suit to briefs and a thigh length black robe, Bruce was ready for Nefertiti to give him a massage. He tapped the pocket of his robe to make sure he’d brought the gift he’d picked up for her and the condoms. Soon his beauty would be his beauty.

On the opposite side of the door, “If Only For One Night” by Luther Vandross played loudly. Cheer mounted on his already riding high emotions. When Nefertiti was in a creative mode, she’d turn the music up and tune out the world.

He tapped on the door—no answer. He knocked harder—still no answer. “Nefertiti!” No answer. He cracked the door open and peeked in. “Nefertiti.”

She had removed the furniture from of her sitting area. He walked into the room for a closer look. “Nefertiti.”

With her back to him, she continued humming and organizing. She wore black jogging trunks, a black tank top, no shoes, no gloves and no veil. He passed crumpled sketches as he crept across the carpet to the hardwood area she worked in. She’d outlined what he estimated to be a fifteen by fifteen foot area with masking tape. The marked area was surrounded with small clear plastic barrels of small geometric chips, way more than she’d had the previous day.

From the angle where he stood, he couldn’t see her scars. She reached back and grabbed orange chips that were near her feet. He saw a few of the raised marks on her mocha arm. According to reports, her right arm had sustained nerve damage, making full range of motion difficult.

Nefertiti’s hoarse voice rose as she sang. She turned ever so slightly as she placed a few chips on the floor, then reached back for additional chips.

The glimpse he caught of the tracks that bastard had left on her face made him gasp. Furious, he backed out the room quickly, away from what Butch had done. He had to escape before the rage consumed him.

In his room, he sat on the edge of his bed and lowered his face into his palms.
Thank God she didn’t see my reaction.
Though he’d seen Nefertiti before her surgeries, seeing her scars brought back the horrors of those first few weeks. He’d never been so scared in his life.
If she had died…
He shook his head.
Thank you, God, for saving my beauty.

 
A nervous chuckle escaped him. Before Nefertiti was attacked, he hadn’t prayed in so many years he couldn’t remember. Now he found himself praying and thanking God regularly, and he had no intention to return to his old ways.

I sure as hell can’t run out of the room when she unveils.
He lay back on the bed and stared at the black ceiling. The darkness of the room comforted him. He forced his mind to push away his anger at Butch and bring Nefertiti forth. Even with the scars, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He chuckled.
Damn, I’m whipped.

The marks on her right cheek reminded him of the tattooing he’d seen on members of some village in Africa on the
Discovery Channel
.
What the hell was the name of that tribe? Man, did they have some fine women.

He smiled.
Maybe we should honeymoon in Africa.
He gave himself a few minutes to adjust to how Nefertiti would look from now on. Instead of focusing on his anger at Butch for hurting her, he focused on his love for her, her kindness, and her beauty—both inside and out.

When he entered her room, again after knocking and calling her name, he went straight to the sketches littering the carpet. The mess she was making in the sitting area would probably take weeks of work before anything looked familiar to his untrained eye. The music selection had switched to Santana, and she sang along in Spanish.

He smoothed out one of the crumpled pages. Using colored pencils, she’d sketched a sun setting or rising. He couldn’t really tell which, but knowing her affinity for the setting sun, he assumed it was. Of her various types of sculptures, paintings, and sketches, he always liked her chalk sketches the best.

“Oh my God!”

Her voice startled him. He turned in time to see her cover her face and run to her nightstand for her veil.

“What are you doing in here?”

He returned to the sketches, but he had seen more of the scarring on her inner arms, neck and chest area. Anger rose in him again, but he suppressed it. She had enough anger of her own to deal with.

He flattened another of her sketches out on the floor. “Why did you crumple these up? They’re good.”

The music lowered, then he heard her walk across the carpet toward him in her bare feet.

“I don’t like them. My stroke is off.”

As he glanced over his shoulder, she turned away. “Stay facing forward. Since someone intruded in my space,” she teased, “I only had time to cover my face. I’d hate to scare you off.”

“Don’t project your feelings about your scars onto me.” He picked up another sketch. “If you don’t want these, can I have them?” She didn’t answer. “Bruce to Nefertiti.” He displayed the sketches. “Can I have these?”

She stood with her arms folded over her chest and confusion in her eyes.

“Well, since you’ve forgotten how to speak, I’ll take your silence as a yes.” He bowed his head graciously. “Thank you for the sketches.” He stacked them. “Man, has it been a long day. You think a brotha can get one of those massages you were giving out yesterday.” As he headed toward the bed, he winked over his shoulder at her. She wore the purple veil.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed someone went Ginsu knife on me.”

“Of course I noticed. Since Butch isn’t here for me to kill, what do you want me to do? Sorry to make this anti-climatic for you, but scars won’t change my feelings for you.” He grinned at the shell shock in her eyes. “Now how about that massage?” He took off his robe, then lay on the bed and waited. He wanted to take both of their minds off the scars and the attack.

At first he thought she wouldn’t oblige him, but then he felt her weight on the bed, and she straddled his back. As her soft hands kneaded his neck, he relaxed under her touch. A thought made him tense up.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He reached back and cupped her hand with his. “Massaging me isn’t hurting your wrist is it?”

“I keep it at angles that don’t hurt.”

He lay flat and allowed her to work over his shoulder blades.

“Is that what you meant by your stroke was off?”

“Yes,” she answered quietly. “I need freedom of movement to draw the way I like. Why are you all knotted up?”

“Work.”

“How does having lunch with an incredibly beautiful woman equate to work?”

“Catherine is one fine woman.” Nefertiti’s touch became harsh. “But she’s not my type.”

“And what is your type?”

“Ninjas. Water ninjas, to be exact. What are you afraid of?” The massage felt great, too great. He rolled over. “Lie beside me. I won’t bite unless you want me to.” He winked.

She rested her head on the pillow beside him. “It’s so hard to explain.”

He caressed her waist. “All I ask is that you try.”

Eyes closed, she whispered, “I know this is extremely shallow, but I’m afraid you won’t be attracted to me.”

He didn’t understand why she would think such nonsence, but acknowledged what Victoria had been trying to tell him. Though Nefertiti’s looks didn’t matter to him, they mattered to Nefertiti, so he had to approach her from that standpoint. He rethought and realized her looks did matter to him; he just thought her still the most beautiful woman in the world. How to make her see that was the million-dollar question.

“I saw something while I was out today. Turn around.” After she turned, he leaned over the bed and fished through his robe pocket for her present and a condom.

“I hope you didn’t buy me anything else.”

He shot an incredulous glare over his shoulder at her as he slipped on the condom, then straightened his shorts. “Give me your foot.”

“You have entirely too much money and time on your hands.” She turned and set her feet in front of him.

“Don’t worry. This time it was under two hundred.” He fastened a purple amethyst bracelet around her ankle.

Nefertiti gently fingered the gift. “It’s precious. You shouldn’t have. Thank you so much.”

“You’re precious.” Bruce lowered himself off the bed, then kissed her toes, ankles.
 

His soft touches tickled yet excited her at the same time. “I don’t think you should…”

“Stop thinking.” He inched his way higher to her knees and kissed tenderly as he lightly brushed his hands on her thighs.

Her mind screamed, “Stop him.” Her body countered with, “Are you crazy? No way!” Next thing she knew, he’d taken off her shorts and panties and was nibbling on her inner thigh, and his hands were caressing her waist.

A life with Bruce was her fairy tale, her happily-ever-after ending. The love in his touch, his words, his actions proclaimed that fairy tales could come true. She gazed down at him.
I love you, Bruce.

A devilish grin tipped his lips just before he kissed her most intimate place. His humming sent an additional vibration of sensual pulses through her.
This feels too good. He’s too good.

Waves of passion drenched her. She was sure she’d drown, but at the moment, she didn’t care. “Oh,” she murmured.

He lifted her shirt as his tongue burned its way along her waist and torso. Her whole body quaked with a need only he could fill. As he drew her breast into his mouth, it took everything she had not to scream out. She wanted to taste him, to feel him, to love him, but the veil… Fear of removing the veil remained. His hardness throbbed against her inner thigh and prodded her to succumb completely. Barely able to maintain control, she gyrated under him and brushed her nails along his back.

“That’s my baby,” he whispered as he suckled from her collarbone, along her neck, below her chin.

The veil seemed to move on its own as his mouth found hers. Worried the dream might end, she closed her eyes and indulged in the succulence of her fire ninja.