“Aw, naw, ain’t sayin that. You do what you need an ain’t try telling you no, but … takin you to bed, want you there, not just your body. An want you knowin it’s me. Love you, Chess. Dig?”

“Shit. I want you, Chess. Make no mistake on that one, dig? Want you bad. So bad I ain’t even can think of any else sometimes, ’cept gettin you under me. Ain’t give a fuck what pills you swallow get you through the day or what happens you ain’t got em, aye? Still want you.”

“I’m not into danger, either.” “Aw, Chess. You so into it you ain’t climb out with a rope. Why else you do your job, live down here, buy from Bump?” “It’s just—I mean—I just do, is all.” Her cheeks burned. She shouldn’t have let him come in here. She should have just sent him home and let him wash his stupid shirt himself. “No shame in it. Some of us needs an edge on things make us feel right, else we ain’t like feeling at all, aye?”

“Love you, Chessie,” he murmured. “Ain’t never … Fuckin love you, more’n anything.”

“I figure you really wanted me you'd say. Like now, maybe, if you dig. I'll fuckin carry you down your place on a run, you tell me aye, get you on your back afore the next word comes out your mouth. But you oughta have yourself certain, causen I ain't lookin for charity, an I ain't lettin you go after. Once...once ain't enough for me, dig?”

“Ain’t ever been the type for lazin, aye?” His hands slid down over her hips. “Why we ain’t leave now, I show you—”

“Shit. You so fuckin pretty, Chessie. True thing. So … ain’t even can breathe sometimes.”