Sugar & Salt by Pavarti K. Tyler Page A

dejected and humiliated man makes his way to the door, trailing him closely so he can slam the door closed on the asshole’s receding figure.
    Portia remains by the fire with her back to him.
    He walks toward her, yearning to wrap her up in his arms. Instead, he stands close behind until she turns around.
    “You all right?”
    “I’m fine.” She offers him a wan smile.
    “You were amazing. Miss Necia couldn’t have handled him better.”
    Portia shrugs, the corners of her lips tugging down.
    “Really, you did great. The only reason I stepped in was because it looked like he might get physical.”
    “I know.”
    “You didn’t need me... I just can’t stand the thought of anyone—”
    “I know, Jackson. It’s good that you stepped in. It was time for him to go.” She wraps her arms around herself and then looks at him, dropping them.
    He hates that she doesn’t want him to think her weak, as if he ever could.
    “I need to write that up before I forget what he said so I can tell Miss Necia.”
    “I’ll get you some tea.”
    “Thank you.” She smiles.
    Their eyes lock for a moment, and his chest swells with emotion, but she turns away.
    He leaves her to work, and wanders back to the kitchen to get a cup of chamomile tea—her favorite.

On Top of the Town
    “Are you ready to go?” Salt stares across the table at Janice, his posture relaxed.
    “Where will you be taking me?”
    “Wherever you’d like to go.”
    “I believe you owe me a tour of your apartment.”
    He blanches at her forwardness, but recovers in an instant, a lewd smile forming on his lips. “I don’t recall offering you one.”
    “Something about wanting me in one of your shirts?” Janice stands up, wobbling slightly on her heels. The world tilts and rights itself before she begins the trek to the front door of the restaurant. She has no doubt he’ll follow.
    Alcohol knocks down the walls she works so hard to maintain. She shoves tomorrow’s guaranteed tidal wave of guilt to the back of her mind. For now, alcohol is the excuse, life the reason, and Salt the benefit.
    A steady arm wraps around her waist, and she leans into his warmth. Beneath the tailored suit, a hard body waits to be uncovered.
    He leads her out into the cool spring air, and the breeze against her skin offers a titillating juxtaposition to the heat growing beneath it.
    He pushes her up against the wall and descends upon her lips. It’s not the lingering temptation of his earlier kiss—this time he assaults her mouth, pulling on her lips with his teeth, demanding entrance. He grips her hip bones and pushes her into the unyielding wall, her moan caressing his ears.
    She laces her hands through his hair and pulls as he nips at her lips—hard, but not enough to hurt. She yearns for more and clings to him as he pulls her tighter against his body.
    A kiss reveals more about a man than a quick fuck. Does he take his time? Does he know what he wants? Does he give as well as he takes? A quality kiss has flow—it shifts from aggression, to passion, to tenderness with ease. Salt does not let her down. The intoxication from the wine loosens her limbs, but his hands melt away any lingering resistance.
    She opens her eyes to find Henry standing at the curb with the car door open, eyes downcast.
    Salt doesn’t remove his hands from her body as he breaks the kiss and leads her to the vehicle.
    She resumes the kiss before the door shuts behind them, reaching inside his jacket to explore the lines of his taut, muscular chest. His chest tightens as she drags her nails across it, deepening the kiss. She drapes a leg over his and teases his neck with her lips—gentle suction, a soft caress.
    He digs his fingers into her upper arms as she rubs her leg along his hardening erection. The leather seats heat up beneath them. He slides his hand up her leg, massaging her thigh with a powerful grip.
    The car slows, and a knock on the rear window interrupts them. Henry learns fast.
    She