[UPDATE] Sweet Heat (Excerpt! Again! Read this one!)

Hiii. So um, this is an updated version with the *full* excerpt, as the previous one left a whole chunk out! Thanks!

It’s a long time coming, I know. Please accept my ardent apologies. I’ve been in Nigeria going to my future sister in law’s traditional wedding in my fiancé’s home state, visiting my fiancé’s family’s hometown (in a different state), in my quasi “hometown”* of Lagos doing 1/2 of my traditional wedding rites (my Introduction…will write about that a little later), going on rabid shopping trips to fabric shops with my Aunties and dealing with boutique owners who look you up and down in order to determine how much time they’ll deign to spend with you. I feel like all of the above needs its own post, so maybe that’s for next time. It does feel rather apt for the excerpt I’m about to share, however, as it occurs at our dear Aminah’s engagement party. We are eight years from the events of my novel HONEY & SPICE. Kiki has not seen her ex, the stressfully handsome (and incisively thoughtful) Malakai Korede in three years, when their five-year relationship came to a fiery end. Yes, for all those mad at me for breaking them up, they lasted five whole years before it happened. I’m not a witch! Five years is a lifetime when it comes to relationships in your twenties! Now, Kiki’s forced to play nice, because Kai is set to be the best man to her maid of honour at her best friend’s wedding, and she’s determined to ensure that their drama doesn’t prove to be a distraction in the lead-up to her girl’s big day. When we join them, below, Kiki and Malakai have been avoiding each other all night, and Kai is talking to Aminah.

I think that’s an appropriate amount of context to have without spoiling anything, and I know you’re not here to read my yappings on this occasion. With no further ado, it is my privilege and honour to share an exclusive excerpt of my upcoming novel, SWEET HEAT with you! Out in July in the UK and September in the US, and available for pre-order right now! <3

**********

‘Well, look who it is. The prodigal ashewo.’

Malakai is easy, he is always so easy – how dare he be so easy – my blood is spiked and heated as his smile warms with genuine affection for the girl I know he loves like a sister and who he also slightly fears.

Our bride! Lovely to see you too, Lady Aminah. Why am I an ashewo again?’

‘Without Kiki’s protection, you revert to how I saw you before. A wanton slag.’

Malakai’s face only twitches slightly at the mention of my name, but his expression remains perfectly placid. For some reason, I’m rooted to the spot. His brow rises with bemusement in a way that used to send flutters to my belly. I have flutters in my belly now, but that’s just due to the inner battle between homicidal feelings and too much champagne. ‘Wanton?’

‘I’ve been reading Kiki’s historical romances.’ Aminah has now mentioned me twice. She ’s testing him, and the unspoken, ‘speaking of historical romance,’ chimes loudly.

Malakai doesn’t bite into the bait, doesn’t trip, doesn’t stutter, his demeanour as chill as ever, as he says, ‘I’ve really missed you, Meenz.’

‘And it’s so kind of you to finally grace us with your presence, Newbie.’

He scratches the back of his head, having the grace to look sheepish. ‘I am so, so sorry—’

‘As you should be,’ she clips, before releasing a sweet smile, capping the edge of her words.

If Malakai catches the shot, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t seem to have missed a beat, sliding into the gap left in the group by his absence, so comfortable, so unbruised. Then, with the smile of a residual laugh on his face, his eyes drift, catch mine, dark gaze inscrutable. My chest jerks. His smile holds rigid, but reduces by the smallest fraction. Then it raises again, hooking my breath to it. It’s not amiable – it’s a challenge. Who is going to be the bigger person?

The elephant in the room trumpets, garnering the attention of my friends, who, without realising it, start to bounce surreptitious glances between Malakai and I, trying to see which one of us will smash the ice. I suddenly really need to pee. And look in the mirror. Check my lips, check my tits, but I can’t – I have to win this – and I push out an unbothered smile on my face, powered by the fact that I am very fucking bothered. I step forward, the heels of my slingbacks working as an ice pick, smashing the ice between us, but Malakai moves too, smooth with it, long strides, sure footed. We meet in the middle of the floor.

I’m not too big to admit that I’m momentarily disorientated by his proximity when I stop in front of him. Of course, Malakai has managed to be approximately 2.75 times more attractive than the last time I saw him, when he was already insanely attractive. Right now, I can’t help but feel that this is to spite me. Breaking my heart wasn’t enough – he had to go ahead and get finer too. It’s not like I wanted him to look like he’d felt a gaping gap where my love once resided that shows in the hollows of his eyes, but does he necessarily have to glow like this? We get it, bro. Your skincare routine is ascorbic acid, Jaws’s jizz and freedom from my clutches. His crisp white button-down shirt is slightly creased – he obviously dressed quickly – but he makes it look deliberate, snug in his aura of careless sauce. It fits him perfectly, confidently, not too tight, but fitted enough to let me know that he’s more filled out now. Thicker, more muscular. It suits him. He’s grown. Well-tailored black tapered trousers brush his leather brogues, and he smells warm, a woodsy scent of black pepper and cognac and the fire in my veins. His beard frames his mouth, full and healthy, a masterpiece you want to trace. It now curves like a scythe.

‘Kiki Banjo. The one and only.’ The low grit of my name on his tongue pricks into my pores like hot prongs. I call on my cool, and tilt my head casually, like I’m not trying to drain the effect of his voice from me.

‘Aw. Did you search for others in your travels?’

He releases a low chuckle. ‘Nah. I figured that one was more than enough for a lifetime.’

It’s a tilted comment. What he means is that he’s had his fill. I won’t rise to his bait. I glance at the inexplicable glass of whisky he has in his hand. So pretentious, with his preference for ‘black coffee ’ and ‘neat’ drinks. I know people think it’s a sign of dependability and confidence, but have we ever considered that the eschewing of flavour is a sign of very mild sociopathy? Maybe I should actually do a masters in psychology and make that my thesis question.

‘How did you bribe the bartender? We ’re only serving wine here. You know, because of what happens when Auntie Wura gets a hold of brown liquor.’

‘Oh, I remember from Aminah’s sister’s wedding. She pinched my ass.’

‘You loved it.’ It slips out without permission, my words falling in step with an ancient rhythm, despite the storm brewing in my thorax.

Malakai nods, face straight. ‘I mean I really came here for her.

She’s the one who got away.’

The second that follows is silent except for the screeching Unsaid, starved of attention. Malakai clears his throat, and scratches his nose, his gaze darting behind my head before meeting mine again. ‘I slipped to the bar downstairs. Asked for the second finest scotch in this place.’

A smile licks on the inside of my mouth. I keep it trapped. ‘You proud of that?’

‘Extremely. Brainstormed it on my way here.’

‘I hope you know that you’re a fool.’

‘I mean you haven’t been around to remind me. How was I supposed to remember?’

Malakai’s doing his patented charm evasion. Thankfully, I’ve built immunity. We ’re not good. This is a pastiche of good. It’s inevitable that, even in the dark, even in the apocalypse, even with the sun vanished, our rhythm would feel its way back to each other. We are capable of falling into step without our arms brushing, without our hearts touching. It means nothing. This is just the way we’re wired. I pull back, just in case.

‘Why were you late?’

His eyes cloud briefly, but it quickly clears. ‘Flight delayed.’ He raises his glass to his lips, looking at something behind me as he asks, ‘Your man not here? Was looking forward to meeting him.’

Bullshit. He just wanted to state that he knows I have a man and he doesn’t give a fuck. Well, I don’t give a fuck that he doesn’t give a fuck.

‘Delayed.’ The lie slips out easily. The truth of my complicated relationship status is the last thing I want to discuss with my ex in front of whom I am determined to project a post-break-up self that is well adjusted and self-actualised. As far as he needs to know, I’m thriving. Can’t keep a baddie down, etc. Malakai’s eyes flash and run across my form, disorientating my heartbeat. Only a couple of seconds have passed, but it’s enough for heat to surge through me, for every hair on my body to stand to attention and my blood to rise like a high tide to his moon. How long does ovulation last again?

‘The guy who called me “Scotch”,’ I say, changing topic, ‘was actually thinking of the pepper.’

Kai’s eyes glimmer a little, the light restrained, but present. ‘Small but mighty. Adds flavour. Brings a grown man to his knees. Yeah, it makes sense.’ His eyes quickly flick across me like a match, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. ‘But the drink works too. Potent, can make a man feel dizzy, disorientated. Gives him a headache.’ His brow arches and I nod and release a caustic smile. We ’re here already. Skipping right past civility. Cool.

I meet his gaze. ‘Can also make a man forget his own name.’

Malakai stills and something shutters over the intensity in his eyes. It occurs to me that Malakai and I haven’t been together, but untogether in five years. He left right after we broke up, and I realise that my body is recalibrating to the new energy between us, new tensions that jut against a comfort, fighting to be released. His gaze is a kaleidoscope of emotion, and nothing stays still long enough for me to identify it, but I can feel the heat, the pressure of whatever the feelings are, burning into me.

My lips twist. ‘It’s been awhile.’

‘Too long.’

‘I wouldn’t say that.’

It’s razored, quick, and I pause, as I remember our surroundings, the audience of our friends, adding, ‘It’s good to see you.’

His smile is sharp enough to almost pull me out of myself. ‘Is it?’

‘I’m being polite.’

‘I prefer you rude.’

‘It’s great to see you.’

*******

I hope you enjoyed that little bite, of what I promise will be a whole feast. I bet my butt on it and I am very precious about my butt. I’ve been getting my squats and the stairmaster in. It’s important to me. I’m so excited for this book to come out; it took so much out of me, but also poured even more back into me, replenishing me two-fold. I grew with this novel, as a writer and as a person. I fell in love with Malakai and Kiki and their journey all over again and I hope you do too.

Lots of love,

B x

*Quasi, because though I was born and brought up in London, I have been going to Lagos all of my life, I essentially partially live there, and if truly tested, I know how to fight like a Lagos girl (psychological combat). Kindly refer to the above note on Lagos boutique owners.