Three Months in ACCRA (Stamped: A Love Story Collection Book 1)

by L.B. Gaines

“They’ll clone our DNA and have us believing we’re 3% Scandinavian and 100% confused.”

He wasn’t the flashiest in the room—no gold chain, no loud shirt. But something about the way he stood—quiet yet present, his arms folded as he watched the dance floor, made my breath catch. 6 feet tall, dark chocolatey brown skin that glowed in the light. He had a muscular build and had a high fade with short coils, and a smile that formed slowly, like he only gave it to people who earned it.

“I’m not flirting,” I said quickly, heat rising to my cheeks. “I am,” Kofi muttered under his breath, but loud enough to make sure I heard.

But the truth was, I just wanted to be wanted. Fully. Freely. Without having to edit myself into something easier to love.

He tasted like salt and hibiscus and the kind of optimism that felt of freedom.

gently. “Can I ask you something, Kofi?” He nodded. “Of course.” “What’s Akoma mean?” His gaze didn’t falter. “It means my heart.”

He watched me through half-lidded eyes, panting. “Liza... my dick looks so good in your mouth.” I moaned around him, slurped softly, and winked letting him know he was in excellent company.

“I feel like I know this place,” I said, voice shaking. “Like I’ve been here before.” “Maybe part of you has.” “Why does it feel like I’m mourning someone I never met?” “Because you are.” Not just for them. For us. For what it took to still be here.

I didn’t just come here to win her back. I came because some people are not chapters. Some people are the whole damn book. And you don’t stop reading until you find the end .

His voice dropped. “You were always going to be mine. Even if I had to hunt you to prove it.”

I kissed him harder bit his bottom lip and moaned when he sucked mine in return. This wasn’t gentle. This wasn’t sweet. This was two years of unfinished business exploding between us like gasoline on a flame.

“You missed this? This mouth? These lips? That tongue that used to make you cry out Akoma?”

He turned over putting me on top this time. I was bouncing on him like I needed to prove something. Like the last two years had been some long, cruel buildup to this moment my thighs shaking, body soaked with sweat, the feel of him bare and hot and deep, no barrier between us. No protection. Nothing but skin on skin. Finally, we could feel everything. The heat. The stretch. The pulse. Every slick slide. Every ridge. Every twitch of him thick and throbbing inside me.

“Too fucking good.” Kofi grunted, grabbing my hips tighter. “I missed this pussy.” “I missed you,” I choked. He slowed, just a little, but the tension in his jaw tightened. His voice was rough when he asked, “Did you give it away?” “What?” His hands stilled, but he didn’t pull out. “Did you give my Akoma away?” My mouth fell open, my heart thudding. “No.” “Tell me.” I met his eyes. Locked in. No hesitation. “Never.”

“I’d never give yours away either. Even when I hated you a little. Even when I was mad enough to wish I never met you. I didn’t let anybody else touch what was yours.”

Pressed his forehead to mine. “My wife,” he whispered. “My husband.”