“Lewis,” she said, “you’re making me laugh too easily nowadays, and that’s dangerous.”

Lewis chuckled.

“Bottom line though, Sylvia, is, Do you want me back or not?”

“There’s something I have to do first before I answer that,” she said, thinking about the CNN feature. She got up and went to her bedroom.

Lewis sat nervously until she returned. But he smiled when Sylvia reappeared with the candleholders in her hand.

“Remember these?” she asked.

Lewis nodded wryly.

“They don’t mean that much to me,” she said, then went outside and threw them in the garbage. Lewis stood at the door watching her. As she ascended the steps he realized that she was crying.

“I’m sorry, Lewis,” she said, as he held her close at the doorway. “I hurt you so much. I’m so selfish.”

“It’s okay, Sylvia. It’s okay,” he murmured, leading her inside.

As she pressed against him she felt a hard lump against her pelvis.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Like an eternity,” he replied sheepishly.

“Come inside the bedroom then. I’ll make it up to you.”

Lewis kissed her deeply and massaged the mound between her legs as she undid his buckle. Leaning against the wall, she slipped out of her shoes and came to his assistance as he tried to ease her jeans over her hips. She trembled as he touched the waist of her underwear. But before she could savor the sensation his hand was up inside her, his tongue was on her lips, and his penis was on the tips of her fingers.

“Take me to bed, Lewis,” she said as she felt herself being lifted off the ground.

Aware that he was in charge of the moment, Lewis laid her down on the bed and took his time as he undressed. Standing in the center of the room, he removed his shirt, undoing just the neck, then hauling the shirt over his head to reveal his muscled torso. She stroked herself beneath the sheets as she watched him. She liked his upper body, the way it rose out of his narrow hips and bloomed into his shoulders … the way his chest was bisected by a deep, hard furrow that proceeded down his middle, where it became overgrown by wispy hair.

He turned around and removed his pants. He had a nice ass. The kind that women like to pat and men like to penetrate. Hard. And clamped shut. When he turned back and came to bed, his face was flushed with a look of mischief.

She opened her legs and parted her lips for a kiss, a heat racing through her body as she felt him fumbling around between her thighs, searching for the gateway to her softness.

Then he kissed her and she felt something in her mouth. She was curious. Then startled. It was hard and it had edges and it … oh God!

She pulled it out—a three-carat diamond in an antique setting.

“Oh, Lewis,” she said. “Lewis, oh, Lewis.”