Black Sparkle Romance by AMARA NICOLE OKOLO

slamming her with questions. Ohmigoodness, Mira, what did you just say? You wanna go to his house now? And what exactly do you want to do there?
    I-well, we could just talk …
    Oh yeah? Talk about what exactly … the weather? OK, sweetie, time out. I know you are pulsating with lust right now but don’t be this … direct. African women don’t do this. It felt like like a battle between her and her mind, and Dominic looked at her, sensing her discomfort.
    “Are you sure you want to?” he asked with an understanding look in his eyes.
    Mira linked her hand into his, ignoring the incessant voice screaming disapproval in her head. “I’m sure,” she replied, a tingle of desire rippling down her spine. “I want to.”

Ten
    It was raining heavily when they reached his house, and after kissing passionately they stumbled in the dark up to his bedroom. But when Mira saw the large bed she hesitated – was she ready to do this? She had had so much casual sex in the past and it had led downhill to a broken heart. But for the past three years, she had not had full blown sex. Was she ready to risk it again, right now – with him, a man she cared about? Was this going to be like the others: casual sex and nothing more?
    He noticed her uneasiness. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said huskily. “I’ll still love you, Mira; nothing can change that.”
    “No, it’s not that, I’m just—”
    “Nervous?”
    She lowered her eyes as she sat on the bed. “Yes.”
    He sighed and sat down beside her. “Me too. Here, feel my heartbeat,” he said.
    She stared at his chest, and then slowly placed her hand on it. He was right – his heart was beating a tattoo similar to a bata drum. He was just as petrified as her, and Mira found the thought endearing. “What do we do now?” she asked. Question of the Century, she thought sarcastically. She should be tearing his clothes off now with reckless abandon, not playing a presenter of Who Wants to Be A Millionaire?
    Dominic grinned. “Well, we could play Scrabble. I have a set somewhere.”
    She hit his shoulder, laughing. “Be serious.”
    “OK. How about we just … talk?” he suggested. “I know nothing about you personally, and I’m dying to. We really don’t know much about each other, and I’m not about to have meaningless sex with a woman I bared my soul to an hour ago.” He kissed her gently on a spot between her ear and her hairline.
    Her eyes were swimming with tears before he finished. None of her exes had done this. All they has asked when seated on a bed was if she liked risqué sex positions and if they could try them with her. She remembered that Lionel had asked if he could tie her up and suggested doing something gross with peanut butter. And here was a man asking if they could talk instead of having sex. Miracles do exist. “That’s fine with me.”
    They sat for a while, staring at each other, not saying a word. They hurtled back to reality when a loud growl echoed in the room – her stomach had rumbled. His eyes widened. “Please tell me that was the thunder rumbling and not your stomach.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead and joke, carry on.”
    He burst out laughing. “Whoa! I’m sorry, but wow! I thought it was the thunder o!”
    “My stomach has a life of its own … it speaks even when not spoken to. It’s so embarrassing.”
    “Don’t be embarrassed … you’re hungry, that’s all.” His face lit up. “Hey, I have an idea. How about I cook us some dinner and we can talk while we eat? I’ve had nothing but that beer at the bar, and I’m kind of hungry too.”
    She said, laughing playfully, “I doubt you can cook anything but water and noodles”.
    He laughed as he headed for the door. “You’d be surprised. Come on.”
    He led her down to his kitchen and soon they were laughing as Dominic placed some spaghetti into a pot, some of the pieces falling on the kitchen counter. He had just set the