Loves Redemption

the other no one else could.
He turned her around so they were facing one another in order to get a better look at her
facial expressions.
“Maya, I want you to know what we shared was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. I
know you’re not very experienced in this, so I want you to understand this was unique and
special, and you have nothing to feel shame about, okay?”
“I know I shouldn’t feel shame, and I don’t. I’m 30 years old, Mark, and although I’m
probably the last living thirty-year-old virgin in the city…” She stopped and rephrased her statement, after he gave her a small grin. “I was the last thirty-year-old virgin. But although I’d never had sex before, I knew the mechanics. I never thought it would feel like this. I need a minute to adjust. Which is kind of hard to do when the cause of all these feelings is staring me in the face,” she laughed shakily.
“I understand your feelings, baby. Why don’t I go and get a small towel and help you
wash up.” He delivered a small kiss to the corner of her mouth before he left the bed. Although conflicting feelings were ripping through her, that didn’t stop Maya from admiring his round muscular butt as he unashamedly padded naked to the bathroom, discarding the spent condom
when he passed the small trashcan.
When he returned, he washed her with the warm towel, concentrating on the small area
where she was bound to be the most sore. After he finished, he lay down beside her, pulled the quilt over their cooled bodies, and closed his eyes. His last waking thoughts were of the woman who lay in front of him; glad she’d come into his life.

CHAPTER 16
In the morning, as he opened his eyes, Mark reached blindly in front of him expecting to
feel Maya’s small, warm body. Instead, his hand closed around empty space. With a
disappointed groan, he raised his body from the bed and scratched his bare chest.
A tantalizing smell made its way through the bedroom, and as he looked around, he spied
his slacks from the previous night and left the bed to put them on. After locating his undershirt, he walked out with it dangling from his hands.
As he walked into the kitchen, he heard Maya laughing in response to another familiar
voice’s husky comment. Before he could retreat, the owner of the voice had already spotted him.
Mark stood in the doorway and saw Dalia’s gaze take him in, from the bottom of his bare
feet up to his bare chest. In his hand dangled the undershirt, which he’d neglected to put on.
With a mental shrug, he forged into the room and walked over to Maya. He pulled her
slight frame up and with her toes barely reaching the floor, gave her a very thorough, very hot morning kiss. “Good morning, baby,” he said, and set her back down before he turned his
attention to Dalia.
“Good morning, Dalia,” he said with a small grin.
“Good morning, Detective.”
“Please call me Mark.”
“Good morning, Mark.” Dalia acted as though it was nothing out of the ordinary to see a
half-naked man in Maya’s kitchen.
Turning to Maya, she said, “I thank you for the coffee, and I will speak with you later.”
With a meaningful look, Dalia snatched up the small baggie of coffee grinds and left them alone.
Mark had casually walked away, pulled the T-shirt over his head, and adjusted his pants.
He made his way toward the brewing coffee and poured a steaming cup. He took a healthy
swallow before turning back to Maya.
“When I reached out this morning, I was hoping to feel your warm body. And when I
didn’t, I followed my nose to the kitchen smells. I didn’t know Dalia was here until it was too late. Had I known, then I would have put more clothes on.” He was trying to gauge her feelings, wondering how she felt about last night. But she wasn’t giving him any clues from her
expression.
“I’m sure it’s not the first naked male chest Dalia’s seen. But I’m not too sure I’d like her to have a repeat viewing of yours.”
The telling comment registered in Mark’s brain. He didn’t think she knew what her
words showed, but he did. Satisfied, he placed his cup down on the table and walked over to where she stood in front of the marble counter. He leaned over her shoulder and took an
appreciative whiff of the steaming plates of food in her hands.
“This smells delicious sweetheart. Do you like to cook?” he asked, taking the plates and
placing them on the small table.
“I don’t know if I like to. Well let me rephrase it. I usually don’t have the need to cook.
I’m at Imani House most of the time, at least during most of my meal times, and Jorge is such a marvelous cook, I eat there. You know how it is when you’re trying to cook for one,” she
laughed. After she sat down, placing both juice and coffee on the table, she continued with a bittersweet smile, “As a child I did a lot of cooking for Allison and myself.”
Mark encouraged her to continue. “Oh really, why was that? Didn’t your foster mother
know how?”
“It wasn’t that she didn’t know how. She used to cook for her boyfriend all the time.
When it came to cooking for Ally and me, it was up to me, or we’d go without. After a few
misses and a few burns, I learned how to make the basics. From there, I experimented and
expanded my limited repertoire. I found I liked cooking, and had a knack for it,” she said, with a smug smile.
After taking a bite of the egg quiche, he agreed with her assessment, as the cheesy egg
confection melted in his mouth.
“Definitely. If this is an example of your cooking, than I’d say you definitely have a knack for it.” Mark thought back to his