Page 12 of Book Bae

“Exactly.”

The waiter came back and refreshed our drinks.

When he stepped away, Micaiah continued speaking. “Now, here’s where you might think I’m a bit arrogant, but I’m not.”

“Oookay. Now the truth comes out,” I teased, laughing.

“I dislike not being treated like a king.”

I lifted my eyebrows and clasped my fingers under my chin. “Mm.”

“I work hard to earn that title when I’m in someone’s life, and I give that back in return. My woman is my queen, and she is always referred to as such in every aspect. I humble myself to her to ensure that she knows I respect her, that her heart is important to me, that I treasure her, and that all her needs are met. I’m generous with my queen, and there is nothing more important to me than she is, not even my own needs. So, when it’s not appreciated or reciprocated, despite all the sacrifices that I’m willing to make—that shit blows me.”

His voice had turned intimate, and the sexy timber and rhythmic cadence of his voice sent chills all over my body. I could listen to him all day and night; he was just too fine.

We talked for a while longer, and we eventually found ourselves ordering toast, bacon, eggs, and homestyle potatoes.

“If I expressed interest in you, and I wanted to date you, what reservations would you have about that, if distance, money, or any superficial things weren’t a factor?”

“This is very superficial, but it’s the first thing that popped in my mind.”

“I’m all ears.”

“How tall are you?”

He smirked. “Six-three.”

“I’m five-one. I’m already short, but being around you makes me feel like a dwarf. I would have to wear heels if I were dating a man that much taller than me. Even my tennis shoes would have heels on them. I would probably wear them in bed.”

He chuckled, and the corners of his hooded eyes crinkled as amusement sparkled from his eyes. Micaiah wasn’t just handsome like some men; he was beautiful.

He leaned his muscular frame back and draped an arm over the back of his chair. The lighting gleamed off his silky, short black fade. Before he spoke again, he licked his tongue out and cleared a drop of cream from his heart-shaped lips, making me wish I was the one doing the licking or being licked.

I was surprised at that train of thought but jerked my attention up again when his bushy eyebrows rose and his wide nostrils flared. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

The frown on his face caused his dark, bushy eyebrows to dip down, making him appear unwelcoming, but not his energy. “I asked if the niggas you date had some sort of fetish, or . . . maybe you have some sort of fetish?”

“What made you ask that?”

“Baby, high heels in bed? I can get down with a lot of things, but a woman digging her heels in my body while I’m sexing her ain’t one of ’em.”

Warmth flushed through me at the mention of sex. My eyes dropped to his arms, and I cleared my throat. He had rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie a little bit.

“No. No fetish here. Though you seem to have one about tattoos.”

He looked down at his muscular arms and smiled. “Not a fetish, but they have meaning.”

He rolled his sleeves past his elbows and pointed at the image of a baby. “That’s my son, his name, and his footprint,” he explained, pointing to his arm. On his other arm was another tree, but on this tree, the leaves were scriptures.

“Do you have any tattoos?” he asked.

“No. I’m not interested in inking this canvas. Not a fan of needles or blemishing this beautiful skin God gifted me with.”

“Definitely beautiful, gorgeous.”

I smiled. “Thank you for creating space for me in your evening.”

“Whaddya mean?”