“Dear Ashamed, learning the art of self-pleasure is an important aspect of exploring your sexuality. When you know how to please yourself, you can teach the man in your life—or your future man—what to do to bring you to orgasm. Don’t be afraid or ashamed of masturbation. It’s absolutely normal and an act you don’t need a man for—although getting a man involved can make it exponentially better.” Lindsay allowed a husky laugh and closed her eyes momentarily, thinking about what occurred between her and Malik less than a week ago. She’d used her vibrator while he watched, which didn’t last very long until he took over.

“Loving your body and getting to know it isn’t a bad thing. It doesn’t make you loose or a whore. It makes you satisfied. Until next time, girlfriends. This is Lindsay the Sexy Diva, reminding you that a healthy relationship begins with you. Be the best you can be, in and out of the bedroom. Goodnight.”

Lindsay exited the soundproof booth and went to her office. She had a lot of work to get through today. Her first book centered around the dos and don’ts of dating, finding the right man, and how to make sure you were dating-ready. The next one, The Sexy Diva Talks Sex, would focus on having a healthy sexual relationship.

She’d spent the past few weeks sorting through transcripts of her past shows for gems to include and had already completed an outline, which her Bear Publishing editor accepted. Now she was in the writing phase, and she had a deadline set on her calendar. But she was having a hard time getting words on paper. She was being silly but couldn’t help it. Despite having a highly anticipated book with great pre-release buzz, she couldn’t get rid of the knots in her stomach and worried that once the general public bought their copies, they might not like what she had to say. Which meant writing books two and three were a waste of time.

Her phone chirped. She’d received a text from Malik.

Malik: I want to see you.

Lindsay picked up the phone and leaned back in her chair, a smile coming over her face.

Lindsay: So?

Malik: Bring your ass over here.

Lindsay: Don’t you have sculptures to sculpt? I don’t want to be a distraction.

Malik: Too late for that.

Lindsay laughed to herself, swiveling in her chair as she contemplated a reply.

Lindsay: I’m working. You expect me to drop what I’m doing in the middle of the day because you say so? That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.

Fingertip between her teeth, she giggled to herself, waiting for his reply.

Malik: You have until 2 to get here.

Lindsay: And if I’m not there by 2?

He seemed to take forever to respond, but she kept her eyes on the screen until he did.

Malik: Then I’m coming to get you.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

Lindsay: Gasp. You’re coming inside the Perimeter?!

She added a series of wide-eyed emojis for good measure. The Perimeter was a highway that looped around Atlanta. It connected the major interstates and separated the city center from the suburbs.

Malik: Yes. That’s how much I want to see you. 2:00. That’s your deadline.

Lindsay thought about sending a snappy reply, but settled on two words: Yes, daddy.

The response came right away.

Malik: Make that 1:30.

She giggled and tossed the phone down and returned her attention to the computer screen. She’d better hurry. She had less than two hours to write the next ten pages of her book.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” His voice was a raspy bass.

Lindsay winced in the dark. She’d eased out of the bed and tried to be quiet as she picked up her clothes to get dressed, but somehow she’d still woken him up.

She’d arrived at Malik’s house a few minutes after one thirty, catching him right as he climbed in the truck. The fact that he’d actually been on his way to get her had sent a thrill down her spine. They ate a lunch of sandwiches, which he’d prepared, and then made mid-afternoon love, and fell asleep.

“I was thinking I’d better leave now,” Lindsay said softly.

“Why do you always leave?” His voice sounded groggy and confused.

Lindsay’s fingers tightened around her bra and dress. “I…I don’t know.”

“Get your tasty ass over here.” Malik flung aside the covers, inviting her back to bed.

Lindsay climbed in and backed up to him, which was a mistake, because Malik sank his teeth into her butt.

“Stop!” She swatted at him, but he pulled her closer and flung a heavy leg over both of hers, trapping her.

“You need to stop running off,” he said, pressing his face into her neck. “What if I want you again? What am I supposed to do?”

“Use your hand, like you did before we started sleeping together.”

“It’s not the same. There’s nothing like the real thing.”

The words and the sound of his voice resonated in her gut—soft and warm like a belly rub. She turned onto her side and faced Malik, and she kissed him gently, tugging on his lips with her teeth and following up with a sweep of her tongue to soothe the gentle bite.

“I’m out of condoms. Do you have any?” Malik asked.

She groaned. “No.”

“I thought you were a modern woman.”

“We’re both modern, and neither of us has condoms.” She punched his shoulder in frustration, but he didn’t flinch. He probably didn’t feel the blow because all she’d done was hit a tight chord of muscle.

Malik’s voice lowered. “Maybe we could...” He pressed his growing erection against her sex.

Though the temptation to give in was great, Lindsay pressed three fingers to his forehead and pushed back his head. “No.”

“But—”

“N-o. We agreed to get tested, and one of us already turned over her medical paperwork, but one of us hasn’t done it yet.” She stared pointedly at Malik.

He flopped onto his back and clutched his stomach. “You’re killing me. I feel faint.” He wheezed.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Seconds ticked by where all she could hear was the loud call of cicadas outside.

“Maybe I should go then?” she asked.

Malik frowned at her. “Why? Because we can’t have sex?”

Lindsay shrugged. “That’s why you wanted me to stay, right?”

“I like spending time with you, too. I hate that you always run off.”

“I don’t run off.” She was surprised by his perception.

“Yeah, you do. Leave some of your stuff here. You know, a toothbrush, some clothes, and whatever else you need. During the week, you can come out here and write sometimes. I’ll set up one of the bedrooms as an office for you. Just tell me what you need.”

“You’re serious?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.”

She grinned. Why did her heart feel so full? “Are you saying you want to spend more time with me?”

He chuckled warmly. “That’s what I’m saying. After all, you’re my fiancée, aren’t you?”

A nick in her chest made Lindsay avert her gaze, because in that instant, she wanted them to really be engaged. She wanted the diamond on her finger to have come from him. “Yeah.”

Malik pulled her into his arms, and Lindsay rested a head on his shoulder. His body was so nice and warm, she never wanted to move from this spot.

“What were you like as a kid?” she asked.

“Scrawny.”

Lindsay lifted her head to look at him. “You? Scrawny?”

He chuckled. “I had a growth spurt my sophomore year of high school. My genes finally kicked in. My dad’s a big dude, bigger than me. About six-five. He was a smooth talker and a heartbreaker. Never worked a day in his life that I know of, but always had a woman and because of that, always had a place to stay. Which came with consequences for the women. I have three half-siblings, that I know of. He never took care of me or any of them. Because of that, my mother always said don’t depend on anyone but yourself.”

“That explains your independent streak,” Lindsay said, resting her head on his shoulder again.

“You’re one to talk.”

“I didn’t have much of a father, either. My stepdad was okay, but he wasn’t my dad. He was my sister’s father. My father was a royal screw-up, always coming up with some scheme to make money—none of which ever worked out.”

“Like what?”

“Bad business deals,” Lindsay hedged, unwilling to delve deeply into her past and tell him the extent of her father’s wrongdoings. “They never worked out for one reason or another. He was a great idea man, but the execution left a lot to be desired.”

“Some people just don’t have a head for business.”

“My mother left him when I was three, but he stayed that way all his life. I honestly think he was trying to impress her and win us back.”

“That’s sad.”

Very sad. Heartbreaking, actually. Abe Steele kept trying to be successful, but each failure was grander than the last.

“So tell me about your mom.”

Malik was quiet for a while, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. “Is it too much to say she was a saint? An angel? Bessie Jones made me into the man I am today, despite my intentions to be the complete opposite of what she wanted. She didn’t want me to be like my father, but for a while, I had other plans.”

“Were you a ho, Malik?”

He chuckled. “A little bit.”

“Isn’t that like being a little bit pregnant?”

“All right, I was a ho. Damn.”

Lindsay giggled. “I’ll stop. Please continue with the story about your whoredom.”

“If you’re gonna judge me—”

“I’m not. Continue.” Lindsay bit back more laughter.

“As I was saying, I was out there for a while after my mother died. I screwed everything that moved because I was trying to forget and cover up the pain. I realize that now but didn’t know I was using sex as a coping mechanism back then.”

Her heart ached for him. “Did it work?”

“For years. Then I got tired and slowed down and decided I preferred to be in longer-term relationships.”

“How did your mother die?”

“Cancer. It’s always cancer, isn’t it?” His voice sounded heavy with loss. “She might have lived longer but out of desperation put her life savings into a business that went south. Those people took advantage of her, and she lost everything. Died broke and broken. She felt guilty because she didn’t have anything to leave for me, as if I cared about the money. So she left me this property, which was very run down when I finally came to look at it. I couldn’t even live here at first.”

“Parents are like that. They worry about the wrong things, you know? I never cared about the money my father did or didn’t have. All I wanted was my dad, but I don’t think he understood that. There are so many things more important than money.”

“What else is important to you?”

“Accomplishing goals.” She gnawed her lip, wanting to share more but unsure how to broach the subject.

“What’s on your mind?”

“What makes you think something’s on my mind?”

“I sensed it. There was a subtle shift in your body.”

Weird how in tune with each other they’d become.

“My book’s coming out, and although I’m happy for the money and the possibilities, I really, really want people to like it, and I’m worried they won’t. What if someone calls me out for not having enough experience?” She felt rather vulnerable sharing her fears and opening up to him in this way.

“Don’t tell me Lindsay Winthrop’s worried.”

“Of course not.”

Malik shifted and tilted her head up with one finger so they could look each other in the eyes. “What you’re feeling is normal, but you deserve the success you’ve had. You’ve worked hard to get to this point in your career, and you should be proud of your accomplishments. You help a lot of people, and you’ll be able to help a lot more with your book. Enjoy this. It’s your time. It’s your moment.”

“I know you’re right, but it’s hard to see it that way sometimes.”

“Don’t let fear rob you of your happiness. Of course there’ll be people who don’t like your book, but tune them out and focus on the ones who do. That’s who you’re talking to. Let those complainers find someplace else to get their advice. You can’t please everybody, babe.”

That was just what she needed to hear. “How do you know so much?”

“Being an artist, I learned early on to take criticism. I realized I should ignore anyone who didn’t like my work.”

“The haters.”

“Nah, they’re not haters. They just don’t like my shit.” He shrugged. “No problem, because there are others who do. That’s who I create for.”

“Will you come to New York for my book signing and release?”

His gaze on her softened. “Of course. Where else would I be, except with my woman, supporting her.”