The Fire Between Us

Chapter one: The Fire Between Us

Kansas City had a way of hiding its most dangerous temptations in plain sight.
Some people found theirs at church, some on quiet streets, some in the middle of their own homes.
Mine found me in a pool hall under buzzing neon, cigarette smoke curling through the air, whiskey staining the floorboards, and a man leaning over a table like he was born to conquer it.

Todd.

The night I met him, I swore I’d only stopped in for a drink. That was the lie I told myself, and maybe that’s the lie I’ll keep telling forever. But when I pushed open that heavy glass door and my eyes landed on him — short, muscular, dark skin glistening under the overhead lights — I knew exactly why I was there.

He wasn’t the tallest man in the room. But Todd didn’t need height. He carried himself like he owned the table, the room, the air itself. Thick forearms flexed as he chalked his cue, his fitted shirt clinging to a body carved by hours of discipline. He bent over, eyes sharp with focus, and when the eight ball slipped into the corner pocket, he didn’t even smile. He didn’t need to. The smirk was in his silence, in the way his presence commanded everything around him.

And then his eyes found me.

Not a glance. Not a casual flicker. His gaze locked onto mine like he’d felt me arrive, like he’d been waiting. And when his lips parted, only two words came out, but they burned into me like a brand.

“You play?”

It was a challenge and an invitation all in one.

I should’ve laughed it off. I should’ve kept walking. But instead, I tilted my head, gave him the kind of smile that said I was ready to gamble, and answered, “I could learn.”

Todd’s smirk deepened. He crooked a finger, motioning me closer, and by the time I reached him, my pulse was thundering in my ears. He pressed the cue into my hand, his fingers brushing mine. Just that — the slightest touch — and I felt heat coil low in my stomach.

“Line it up,” he said, stepping behind me. His voice was velvet wrapped around steel, smooth but commanding.

When his hand slid over mine to guide the cue, my knees nearly buckled. His chest brushed my back, his breath grazed my ear. “Relax your shoulders. It’s not power, it’s control.”

I exhaled slowly, though control was the last thing I had. I focused on the ball, drew back, and let the cue crack. Miraculously, the stripe rolled into the side pocket. I laughed, surprised at myself, but Todd only shook his head with that wicked grin.

“Beginner’s luck.”

“Nah,” I shot back, catching his eyes, “you set me up.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping low, private. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see what you’d do under pressure.”

That word — pressure — hit deeper than it should have. My life was built on pressure: running my businesses, raising kids, surviving storms. And somehow, this stranger had already read it in me.

“You don’t play fair,” I murmured.

Todd’s smile curved slow, lethal. “No. But I feel your energy right now.”

And that was it. The spark. The fire. The reason I didn’t walk away.


The Pull

From that night, it was as if the city conspired to keep us in each other’s orbit. I’d walk into the pool hall, swearing it was just for a drink, and there he’d be, leaning against the bar, watching me like I was already his. We played game after game, his hand brushing mine when he handed me the chalk, his shoulder bumping mine as he leaned in to line up a shot.

The banter between us was reckless, fueled by everything unspoken.

One night, he leaned against the table, eyes gleaming as he said, “Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll stop.”

My throat closed. I tried to summon the words, but they wouldn’t come. He stepped closer, tilting my chin up with one finger, forcing me to look into his eyes.

“Say it to my face,” he whispered, voice thick with hunger.

I couldn’t. Because it wasn’t true.

Instead, I whispered back, “You already know I can’t.”

The look in his eyes — fire, danger, something uncontainable — sealed it. We were both playing a game we’d already lost.

And it wasn’t just attraction. It was something rawer, deeper, like our souls had collided before our bodies even had the chance. He made me laugh when I was exhausted, made me feel soft when the world forced me to be steel. He spoke to me like he saw through every wall I’d built.

“If we had met before all this chaos,” he told me one night, voice low as if confessing a secret, “we’d have been unstoppable. A power couple. The infinity couple.”

The words sank into me, heavy and sweet. Because I felt it too. The way we clicked wasn’t chance — it was inevitable.


The Kitchen – Sade-Smooth Operator

One night, I let him follow me home. I shouldn’t have. Every rule I lived by said don’t. But when I unlocked my door and he stepped inside, the weight of every reason disappeared.

I opened a bottle of wine. We moved around my kitchen like we’d done it a thousand times, him chopping onions while I stirred sauce, our laughter filling the space like music. But it wasn’t until I hit play on my speaker and Smooth Operator slid into the air that the night shifted.

Todd put the knife down, wiped his hands on a towel, and came up behind me. His chest pressed against my back, his hand sliding to my waist.

“Dance with me,” he murmured.

I laughed nervously, shaking my head. “In the kitchen?”

“In the kitchen. Right now.”

And before I could argue, he turned me around, pulling me into his arms. The music wrapped around us, sultry and smooth, and suddenly I was swaying against him, my cheek brushing his. His hands pressed firm against my lower back, holding me close, making it impossible to breathe anything but him.

The kiss was inevitable. His lips found mine slowly at first, testing, tasting. But when I kissed him back, it deepened — hot, urgent, stealing my breath. His tongue slid against mine, his hands gripping tighter as if he’d waited forever for this moment.

When we finally pulled apart, gasping, my lips tingled. My voice came out ragged. “I can’t get that kiss out of my head. It still lingers on my lips.”

Todd’s eyes burned into mine. “Then let’s make it linger forever.”

The Risk

Our passion spilled into everything.

At the pool hall, he’d find excuses to touch me — a hand at the small of my back, a whisper in my ear that made my knees weak. His boys started asking about my dispensary. They wanted edibles for long nights, oils for sore muscles. I knew mixing business with this fire was risky, but when Todd looked at me with pride in his eyes and said, “You always come through for me,” I couldn’t say no.

Every bag I slipped into his hands was more than product. It was trust. It was intimacy. It was me giving him another piece of myself I couldn’t get back.


The Breaking Point

It happened on a night that should’ve been ordinary. Just another drink, another game, another excuse to linger too close. But by the time we ended up back at my place, all the restraint we’d clung to unraveled.

His jacket hit the floor. My blouse slid off one shoulder. His hands gripped my hips like he couldn’t stand the thought of space between us.

“Tell me you don’t want me,” I whispered, breathless, heart pounding. “Say it, and I’ll stop.”

He grabbed my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. His voice was low, raw, a growl from somewhere deep. “I can’t say that. Not to your face. You already know.”

And then his mouth was on mine, devouring me, his hands everywhere. We stumbled into the counter, the stove, knocking over glasses. The heat between us was uncontrollable, a blaze consuming everything.

“Every time I hear from you,” he groaned against my lips, “she throbs. I whispered, he replied I need to experience you. I have to experience you.”

The words undid me. My body arched against his, my nails digging into his shoulders. We were seconds from surrender, seconds from crossing the line we’d danced around for so long.

But somehow, we pulled back. Gasping, trembling, bodies pressed together but not moving further. Because once we did, there’d be no going back.


The Silence

Later, alone, I lay in bed replaying every word, every touch, every look. His confession echoed: If we had met before the chaos, we’d have been the infinity couple.

And I believed it. With every piece of me, I believed it.

We’d never gone all the way — not yet. But the truth was, he consumed me more completely than men I’d given everything to. His fire lived under my skin, in my bloodstream, in my every waking thought.

I lit a candle, whispering into the silence. Not for the man I couldn’t fully have, but for the fire between us. The fire that owned us both.

Because the truth was, we didn’t start it.
And the truth was, we couldn’t put it out.