don't live in Sherwood Estates. However, Hilton can buy me out. That way, he can keep his estate, and I can move on with my life. But wouldn't life be grand if Hilton and I could share the home as husband and wife? I can't deny I have strong feelings for him.
Chapter Thirteen
Hearing a knock on the door, I roll over and get to my feet. I pad softly to the door, knowing that Hilton is on the other side. After opening the door, I sit on the side of the bed, my hands placed neatly in my lap.
Hilton removes his coat and loosens his tie, then he moves slowly toward me. He lifts my chin. "Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm just confused." I reach for his hand. "I appreciate your honesty. You could have kept your mouth shut, and we would have never known a thing."
"That is true," he says, sitting down beside me.
"Did you know Tory is sick."
Hilton shrugs. "Honesty, I didn't. I found out about Tory's illness the night of the auction."
I look at my fingers. "Then you had no idea?"
"No." He whispers. "But I realized I needed to help you while I unraveled the estate."
Searching his ice blue eyes, behind rimless glasses I say, "Thank you."
Hilton squeezes my hand. "Randi, whatever you decide to do is going to impact the entire Maxwell estate."
"I know," I reply, sighing quietly.
"I have an obligation to you." Physically, Hilton is closing in on my space.
Indiscreetly moving over, I ask, "How do you feel about this?"
Hilton shrugs. "I'm willing to share. That's why I watched you for so long. You're hardworking and tough."
Tears stood in my eyes. "Hilton, give me time to process all of this." I avert my gaze and rub my shoulders. "It's just too much, too soon."
"I know," he whispers, sweeping a curl from my face.
"You're making me nervous," I say, pulling the curl from his grasp.
"I'm sorry, Randi. I've had time to weigh my options. I stand to lose a lot, but right now the heat of the moment has me mesmerized."
A smoldering look in his eyes says he has more than important papers on his mind. "Are you trying to come on to me?"
"Yes." He brushes my cheek with his lips.
"Why?" I ask, moving from his lips. "I thought you hated prostitutes."
Hilton chuckles. "Randi, you're hardly a prostitute. I promise, if you make love to me, nothing will change regarding the estate."
Mr. Maxwell is causing quite a chemical change in my system, but I still own the will to push him away. "This is not a good idea."
"Sure, I understand." Hilton takes his hand and pushes hard against his growing member. "I've rarely been turned away."
"So, do you consider me a challenge?" I push against his broad chest. "Have you ever made love to a black woman before?"
"To answer your question, yes. But, my attraction for you goes much deeper."
"How?" I ask.
Hilton places his lips near mine and I push him away. Impervious to my rejection, he continues to talk. "Those pictures of your great grandmother are all over my home. As a young boy, I would gaze into her dark, mysterious eyes and wonder what my great grandfather saw in her. Now, I know."
Placing my hand over my mouth, I stifle a giggle. "You did what?"
"Simple. I fell in love with a beautiful painting. And now, that painting has come to life."
I have heard some weird things before, but I can hardly fathom what Hilton is saying. "Paintings of my great grandmother."
"I have a fetish—much like my great grandfather. I love beautiful black women."
"You-are-kidding-me."
"No, when I saw you, it was like someone took a key and unlocked my soul." He gestures toward his heart. "Suddenly, I came alive with desire."
In a dead tone, I ask, "So, you only want to hump me?"
Hilton bursts into laughter. "No, sweetheart. I don't want to hump you. I want you in my life. I know you don't know me very well, but I know you. I've studied you for months, although I didn't know little Tory is sick. His father is Boogie Washington, which is really his legal name."
Now, I'm laughing. "I had no idea."
Hilton closes in on me. "I know your birthday, your
Chapter Thirteen
Hearing a knock on the door, I roll over and get to my feet. I pad softly to the door, knowing that Hilton is on the other side. After opening the door, I sit on the side of the bed, my hands placed neatly in my lap.
Hilton removes his coat and loosens his tie, then he moves slowly toward me. He lifts my chin. "Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm just confused." I reach for his hand. "I appreciate your honesty. You could have kept your mouth shut, and we would have never known a thing."
"That is true," he says, sitting down beside me.
"Did you know Tory is sick."
Hilton shrugs. "Honesty, I didn't. I found out about Tory's illness the night of the auction."
I look at my fingers. "Then you had no idea?"
"No." He whispers. "But I realized I needed to help you while I unraveled the estate."
Searching his ice blue eyes, behind rimless glasses I say, "Thank you."
Hilton squeezes my hand. "Randi, whatever you decide to do is going to impact the entire Maxwell estate."
"I know," I reply, sighing quietly.
"I have an obligation to you." Physically, Hilton is closing in on my space.
Indiscreetly moving over, I ask, "How do you feel about this?"
Hilton shrugs. "I'm willing to share. That's why I watched you for so long. You're hardworking and tough."
Tears stood in my eyes. "Hilton, give me time to process all of this." I avert my gaze and rub my shoulders. "It's just too much, too soon."
"I know," he whispers, sweeping a curl from my face.
"You're making me nervous," I say, pulling the curl from his grasp.
"I'm sorry, Randi. I've had time to weigh my options. I stand to lose a lot, but right now the heat of the moment has me mesmerized."
A smoldering look in his eyes says he has more than important papers on his mind. "Are you trying to come on to me?"
"Yes." He brushes my cheek with his lips.
"Why?" I ask, moving from his lips. "I thought you hated prostitutes."
Hilton chuckles. "Randi, you're hardly a prostitute. I promise, if you make love to me, nothing will change regarding the estate."
Mr. Maxwell is causing quite a chemical change in my system, but I still own the will to push him away. "This is not a good idea."
"Sure, I understand." Hilton takes his hand and pushes hard against his growing member. "I've rarely been turned away."
"So, do you consider me a challenge?" I push against his broad chest. "Have you ever made love to a black woman before?"
"To answer your question, yes. But, my attraction for you goes much deeper."
"How?" I ask.
Hilton places his lips near mine and I push him away. Impervious to my rejection, he continues to talk. "Those pictures of your great grandmother are all over my home. As a young boy, I would gaze into her dark, mysterious eyes and wonder what my great grandfather saw in her. Now, I know."
Placing my hand over my mouth, I stifle a giggle. "You did what?"
"Simple. I fell in love with a beautiful painting. And now, that painting has come to life."
I have heard some weird things before, but I can hardly fathom what Hilton is saying. "Paintings of my great grandmother."
"I have a fetish—much like my great grandfather. I love beautiful black women."
"You-are-kidding-me."
"No, when I saw you, it was like someone took a key and unlocked my soul." He gestures toward his heart. "Suddenly, I came alive with desire."
In a dead tone, I ask, "So, you only want to hump me?"
Hilton bursts into laughter. "No, sweetheart. I don't want to hump you. I want you in my life. I know you don't know me very well, but I know you. I've studied you for months, although I didn't know little Tory is sick. His father is Boogie Washington, which is really his legal name."
Now, I'm laughing. "I had no idea."
Hilton closes in on me. "I know your birthday, your
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