was still awake, turning her—all of her—over in his mind, when the phone chirped again.
DANIKA: If you answer this, I’ll be deeply worried for your sleep cycle.
He was already grinning as he picked up the phone.
ZAF: Be worried, then. I’m worried about how long you work between breaks.
DANIKA: Be worried, then.
He was laughing when the phone rang, her name lighting up the screen.
Dani was propped up at her desk, staring sightlessly at her panel notes, listening to the phone’s soothing dial tone and trying not to stumble into sleep.
Tiredness wasn’t great for mental processing: she knew this. But she also wanted—needed—to kill the upcoming feminist lit panel, and since it was a discussion rather than an essay or presentation, there was no knowing what kind of research it might require. So she would complete all the research, just to be sure. If there was one thing Dani could excel at, it was this. Inez Holly would not catch her stuttering, no, sir.
But even now, self-conscious awareness hummed at the back of her mind like the low murmur of students before a lecture began. That awareness reminded her, completely unprovoked, that if she had someone waiting for her in the bedroom down the hall, they’d feel annoyed or neglected right now. They’d lose their patience and their temper. They’d try to persuade Dani away from her tried and tested process, as if they knew what was best for her, and if she refused, they’d ask snide questions about whether her degrees would marry her and love her in her old age.
Unless they were sweet like Zaf. If they were sweet like Zaf, they’d probably talk her into bed with gentle, teasing comments. And if they were heavy like Zaf, they’d pin her down in a big soft hug, and she wouldn’t even be able to sneak off once they fell asleep, and then she’d have to rest . . .
Which sounded awful and was one of the many reasons she preferred to keep potential fuck buddies on the other end of the phone, instead of nestling them into her life. Speaking of, she must conscript Zaf to the cause soon. Preparing for the symposium was proving extremely stressful, and as she’d learned today, his mouth was a magical tool of distraction.
When he picked up, his voice was deep and sleep-roughened, and it shot straight to her clit. Of course, everything about him shot straight to Dani’s clit, just like champagne shot to her head.
“Hey,” he said, all raspy and gorgeous and ugh. “Let me guess. You’re working.” There was a smile in his voice—no scolding exasperation or heavy disappointment to be found. Almost as if he was amused, rather than annoyed, by her unsociable hours.
“Yep,” she confirmed. “Working.” But now that she had Zaf on the phone, work didn’t seem half as interesting as getting on his nerves. Hmm. Unfulfilled lust was a funny thing.
“Studying in the middle of the night,” he groused, fondness lacing each word. “I don’t know how you look so pretty all the time. I come to work every morning looking like I’ve got two black eyes.”
The word pretty sent a childish thrill of pleasure through her, which was mortifying, because Dani wasn’t in the habit of caring about who called her pretty. If she did, she might also have to care about who called her ugly, and when you were a woman—especially a black woman on the chubbier side—that was never a good idea. The only opinions she valued on that score were her own.
But there seemed no harm in murmuring, “Pretty, am I?”
“Don’t start. You know you’re a knockout.” He paused, clearly considering. “Unless you don’t, and you’d like me to tell you. As a friend.”
“No, no,” she said quickly—because he would tell her if she asked. He would tell her in that quiet, rumbling voice, calm and steady and unembarrassed, just to make her feel good about herself. And this weird melting feeling in her middle, as if her insides were spilling out and leaking everywhere, might get even worse. God forbid. As an extra layer of protection, she added, “For future reference, there’s never any need to emphasize my attractiveness. As you say, it’s already an established fact.”
He laughed, the sound sinking into her skin, spilling over tight, tense muscles.
“As for my lack of dark shadows,” she went on, trying to sound casual, “it’s concealer. Google it.”
“Hmm. Maybe my niece will lend me some.”
She exhaled, smiled. It was kind of adorable how often