Paul

Ifunaya is as rigid as a pole on our drive home and I don't miss the number of times her eyes dart between the men in front. My hand reaches out to cover hers, a part of me prepares for her rejection but she surprises me by intertwining our fingers and resting her head on my shoulder without a word.

Lagbaja's voice filters from the radio, an old classic of his breaking the car's quietude.

Wherever I go, wherever you are,
Baby, baby you are never far away.
Ifunaya baby you are never far away.
You are always on my mind . . .

I sing the last part in an off-key tune as he nears the chorus, my voice raises with each hit to my arm and I beam. Her punches feel like the prelude to a massage, I pretend it hurts by groaning and it encourages her to hit me harder. She doesn't laugh like I expect her to when my awful singing comes to an end but I notice the corners of her lips lift in a smile she tries and fails to fight. My thumb caresses her cheek when she relaxes in the seat, I weave my fingers into her hair to peck the top of her head when she sighs.

Bodyguards are not new to me, one of the perks of being the child of a public figure, a politician. I hate the lifestyle but I can't seem to get away from them, even in Enugu. They were everywhere and only a few of them cared to be discreet. Coming to Calabar, knowing no one, being able to interact as a normal citizen, date and be me without my father's title hovering above my head was fun. A much-needed breather until that madman, Aaron happened and now, he is dead.

Directions tumble out of my lips as we near the streets of my house, the guard on the passenger clears his throat when I refer to his second as chairman. I forgot their names the moment they spoke. How could I not? I could barely concentrate with Ifunaya being so upset, treating me like I was the bad guy when we are both victims of my family's politics. I didn't ask for this.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out a sigh, Mr Adams was right, the bodyguards are for her safety, our safety. Loving me equals having guards around and by God, I hope she can handle the pressure. I need her in my life. We can, we will figure it out.

Overwhelmed by the events of today, my eyes close and the accusation in her voice returns to taunt me. My eyelids flutter open, I cast a glance at her sleeping figure and scoff. She thought I was lying. Fucking hell, no, no more of that shit. She got kidnapped because of me so, I bloody well know truth is the new motto for our relationship. Yet, she easily labels me a liar. God. If I will tell a lie, it certainly isn't to her. My fingers dig into my scalp, I have a lot of work to do, I don't want my woman distrusting me.

The gate of my house comes into view, I stare at it with a longing unfamiliar to me, I never stay long enough in a place to grow attached to it. But in a strange way, I missed seeing this grey building. I missed having my space, being able to flex in my kitchen.

Teslim, the gateman, waves furiously at me as we drive into the compound, I return the gesture with a small smile. He must have missed the meals I always passed his way. When the car slows to a stop, I shake Ifunaya awake and smile as she squints at me until her confusion clears. She has to be the most beautiful woman I have seen, a true beauty in every sense of the word.

"My lady," I say with a mock bow when I open her side of the car. "We have arrived."

In one fell swoop, I lift her off the ground bridal style and kick the door close. My heart swells at the sound of her giggles, it's as refreshing as having a recipe come out perfect on a first trial. I love it. I love her.

"Babe, the doctor said bed rest. I can walk."

"Should I put you down?" I stop walking to ask. My hold on her body relaxes, her eyes bulge and she slaps the back of my head.

The scowl on her face reappears, a chuckle escapes me. Teasing her is the second best thing after cooking for her, she always falls for it and I never tire to see her cute frowns.

"Don't you dare," she replies and her arms tighten around my neck. Her warm lips meet my cheek, I mutter an inaudible reply as my heart skips, her forehead kisses are my favourite but this makes me feel good.

We continue to the entrance of my house in silence with the guards in tow, I hope I can bribe them to make themselves invisible. I understand the need for them but not their proximity, they can do their jobs from afar except there is someone in this compound who has something against my family.

"You can have the last room," I tell the guards and they disappear after a curt nod. I lower my gaze to Ifunaya. "You, my love," I wiggle my eyebrows, "are stuck with me." She smiles. "We are staying in my room."

"No."

My jaw slacks, I gape at her in shock. "No?"

She pouts and I have to take a deep breath to stop myself from claiming her lips. "No."

I scoff, her fingers trail my lower lip and I start in the direction of my room to dump her on my bed. There are more than one ways to make her change her mind and I intend to explore all of them. I lower her to the bed, kneel between her legs to stare at her. Her fingers hover above the waistband of my shorts, she blinks and smiles and I forget all about seducing her for a moment.

Our fingers interlace above her head, my lips connect to her neck, I nip and suck on the skin there until she breathes out my name. Her gown rides up, I let my knee tease her entrance, the sound she produces an euphony to keep me going. My mouth wanders to other parts of her perfect body, closing over her pointed nipple straining against her gown. I wonder if the guards were honoured with this same view and a string of apologies leave my lips when she whimpers at my subconscious roughness.

"Why no?" I withdraw to ask, pulling her up with me so her head can rest on my chest.

Lust clouds her eyes when her head raises, everything slows down and I gulp as she blinks. Her eyes are fucking mesmerising, she can get me to do anything by blinking. My arm snakes around her waist, lowering to cup her soft ass in that scanty underwear, I knead her butt until she moans, her lips part open and she throws a leg over me. Her hand rubs against my erection, I let out a hiss and throw my head back. Fuck.

"I want you to beg me," she finally answers.

Her reply takes me by no surprise, having a sister like Chi has forced me into learning some of the ways of women. I suck in a sharp breath when she inserts her hand into my shorts to palm me through the flimsy material of my boxer and my heart hammers. Fuck. Her gaze keeps me captive, I drink in the vision of the sexy Bambi trying to gauge my reaction to her touch. I am under her spell, I will do as she pleases. She blinks and I am pulled out of my trance as her finger finds its way to my chest.

I manage to offer a coherent, "Okay. Please stay here with me." We stare at each other, no one says a word until I clear my throat. "Ifunaya, you have not said anything."

The alarm bells in my head go off when she rolls away to create some distance between us, I offer her my hand but she refuses to take it. The subtle shift in the atmosphere has me tucking my arms under my head on the pillow, we rest on our sides with our eyes doing the talking. I sigh. We have a lot to discuss but I don't want us to do that, not now, our talk will ruin this moment of bliss.

"We need to talk."

We need to talk.

Those words, I hate hearing them, they are always followed by a series of bad news. My heart starts a slow, painful dance when her lips part open, I panic and crash mine on hers, sucking on her lower lip, tongue teasing as I take what she offers. Moans slip from her, my fingers move below her waist, pushing past the flimsy barrier to slide into her warmth. Her moans change tempo, her kisses become aggressive and she bites hard enough on my lips to draw blood.

In and out, my fingers slip into her wetness with an expertise that has her eyes closing and her head falling back. Her trembling hand locates my throbbing erection as she tries to reciprocate the gesture, I let out a throaty sound and my mind goes blank when she fondles with my balls. I lift her to straddle me and the wind is knocked out of me when she grinds against my manhood. My palms cover her breasts, I shudder and groans of pleasure escape our lips when she rotates her waist in a slower motion.

Within seconds, my boxer is off and I help her out of her gown with the same speed. She lowers herself onto my erection, I hiss and let out a strangled moan at the sparks that travels straight to my brain. Fuck. I groan. Her eyelids flutter open, she blinks, my hands relocate to her waist and I try to move with my dick still buried inside her. She glares at me, I die and resurrect when she slides off me without any explanation.

What happened? What did I do? I reach out blindly for her, my eyes remain glued to my penis glistening with the essence of her femininity, my shaft dripping with precum, refusing to believe she left me hanging.

What the fuck!

"Why?" I ask in a breathless whisper and nearly pull out my hairs. "Babe. Ifunaya."

"We need to talk."

Ifunaya gets off the bed like every fucking thing is alright, I grip the sheets and scream my frustrations on the inside while trying to maintain a calm exterior. A sigh escapes me, I push myself to a sitting position after fighting the air briefly and run my fingers through my hair. Fuck me. Fuck my life. Women are evil. Girlfriends are devious.

Annoyance simmers on the inside, I pull up my shorts with a grunt and sit on the edge of the bed, ignoring the plea in her eyes. I should be the one begging her to finish what we started. She takes her place beside me, I go rigid when she strokes my arm and almost cry out when she brushes the front of my shorts. Is she trying to gloat? I already have blue balls to deal with it. She won.

Taking a deep breath, I grab her hands to place on her legs, then create some distance between us. I refuse to be subjected to this torment. "Don't be like this," she murmurs.

It's her guts for me, the audacity to play the victim when I am the one with a problem in my shorts to deal with. A problem she caused, that only she can fix. "Let's just talk, please. What do you want to talk about?"

"So," she drags out the word and my chest falls at the foreboding feeling that settles over my shoulders. Women and talk. Must everything be talked about? Why can't we talk with our clothes off or forget I lied? I already apologised. In a denunciatory tone, she mutters, "Chi is your sister, huh?"

It takes me a few seconds to reply, I ball my hands into fists. "My twin sister actually."

Bracing myself for what will come next, I spare her a glance and my eyes linger on her lips which pull into a thin line. I huff, still annoyed at the stunt she pulled and even more upset with myself for wanting to kiss her. If she gives the word, I know I will be the first to pull off my clothes. My fingers crawl up her thighs, I wish she didn't put on the gown and she slaps my hand away.

"What else did you lie about?"

The lights on my ceiling suddenly appeal to me, I stare at the circular structures until she nudges me. I grunt, my shoulders sag, I don't like this. "I didn't lie about anything," I reply, " I just didn't tell you everything."

"Same difference," she rubs her hands on her knees, "why didn't you tell me?" Her head lifts in my direction, the hurt in her eyes forces me to look away. I stare at the ceiling and sigh. "I would have understood."

"I don't know," I say. Her shoulder sags, her hurt gnaws at my throat and I take her hand in mine. "The lie had gone on for too long, I didn't know how to unlie anymore."

The stiffness in my bones returns when she doesn't laugh at the word I made up. "Were you ever going to tell me you are Paul Udoka Chime?" I cringe at the use of my full names and nod. My father and I never get along, for one, it would have made talking about him uncomfortable for me. "When?"

All I want to do at this point is give her all the answers she demands but I don't know them myself. "I don't know but I was going to." Her brows raise to mock me, I sigh and continue, "I got carried away by everything. You." In a bid to diffuse the awkwardness from her blatant dismay, I switch subjects to my safe place. "Are you hungry? I can make those peppered beef you requested for."

She doesn't try to hide her disgust, I frown and she rolls her eyes. "I'm not hungry and food is the least of our problems right now."

Problems. We have problems? I try not to think of that as her lips start moving again, but how the hell do we have problems already? She nudges me with her elbow, annoyance written all over her face as I am pulled back from my trance. I mutter an apology, she hisses and my defences rise as I let out a deep breath. My babe is pissed, I am walking on thin ice around her and I don't want that to be our norm. I am sorry.

"Is there still a need for bodyguards?"

The upper parts of our bodies appear on the screen of my television, her glare keeps my eyes away from her face. I don't know how to handle her angry version yet. "That was the condition for leaving the boss's house."

She straightens up, I tear my eyes away from the television and try to touch her but she retreats so fast my chest tightens. I nod and offer her a painful smile, I did this, I have to deal with it. But it fucking hurts. I want her love, hugs and kisses, I don't want us to fight, we have done enough of that.

"Don't give me that rubbish. Am I safe now? Are we safe?" The events of the past weeks repeat itself in a vicious cycle in my head, I shudder. "Why do we need two? Isn't one enough? Why do we even need them?"

Her eyes turn to me, awaiting my reply and I inhale feverishly. "You are safe, we are safe." She makes to stand and I grab her by the wrist to stop her, we are not done talking. At the glare she sends me, my hand drops to my knee. "Where are you going?"

"To wash my hair."

I wait for a few seconds to pass. "What?"

Turning around to face me, I grimace and try not to panic when she closes the gap between us in one stride. Her eyes soften when they land on me, I offer her a small smile which she fails to reciprocate. She sighs when my arms circle her waist, her facial expression tugs at my heartstrings.

"I want to wash my hair." I nod, I heard that the first time and my confusion heightens. "I can't deal with," her hand sweeps across the room, "this right now. This is too much for me to process, I don't have control of my life anymore. We have guards. God. Don't you feel suffocated by their presence?" Her fingers press to her temple. "Because I do."

Standing to pull her in for a hug, I draw lines on her lower back until she snakes her arms around my waist. Her annoyance is familiar to me, I felt it too when our lives took a drastic turn after daddy won the election. I still feel it sometimes. The only way to avoid this is by breaking up but I am too selfish to let her go. Her new life should be with me. I sigh, my coming to Calabar was to get away from the drama, guards and protection, a brief moment of repose.

"I'm sorry. It will get better, I promise. Try to ignore them." She nods in my embrace, I stay put. "Do you need help with your hair?"

Her giggles loosen some of the knots in my shoulders, she takes a step back to smile at me. "What do you know about 4C hair?"

Nothing. Until this moment I didn't realise her hair had a name or type but Google here I come. "A lot," she crosses her arms, "try me. I know a lot about 4... 4C hair."

We amble to the bathroom in silence and my eyes widen when she starts taking off her clothes. She giggles at my expression, talks about her need to be comfortable and I nod when she offers for me to join her.

"Your shampoo has sulphate in it," she says with her eyes glued to the bottle like it is every day we stand naked in my bathtub. I offer her a sheepish smile, no idea what she means by that. She has to be the only one I know who checks the ingredients of an inedible product. "It's not good for my hair."

Making a mental note to get only sulphate free hair products for us, I turn on the shower, direct the showerhead to her body.

"Is it warm enough?" I ask and she nods. "What will you do? Can you manage it?" She shrugs, I chuckle as a large quantity of the shampoo spurts onto her palm when she squeezes the bottle. "Do you need help?"

Without waiting for a response, my fingers dig into her hair, massaging her scalp until it gathers lather. Water trails down to our feet, her silence has me antsy as I rinse the foam off her hair and body. My erection pokes her stomach as she wraps her arms around my waist without notice, I hang the showerhead and let the water spray on us.

She sniffs, I am surprised I heard it above the sound of the running water which I am quick to shut off. Her shoulders tremble, I try and fail to pry her hands off my waist when her silent cries increase to sobs. My heart constricts, I tighten my arms around my baby and tuck my head into the space between her neck and shoulder. I did this.

"My love, I'm sorry," I whisper.

**********

Dedicated to maramartha
💕💕It's my birthday today 💕💕

The song that played in the car is Lagbaja's "Never far away".

At this point, I have no idea what's going on anymore. These characters are completely out of my control.