Something electric runs through me. It starts in my chest and radiates outward until my fingers and toes are tingling. “I love you, Alison.”
Her eyes are suddenly huge. “You do?”
“I do. I’m pretty sure it was love at first sight.”
“Was that before or after I elbowed you in the face?” She giggles.
“I thought you were stunning before. But after you blackened my eye, I thought I’d met my soul mate.”
I watch her body soften in front of me. A sweet smile slides across her face. “I’m not sure I’m at that point yet, Ben, but I feel strongly about you. I could see myself falling in love with you, but you’ll need to be patient with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.”
When our lips touch, I know it’s probably wrong. We should wait. But at this point, who the hell cares? The kiss isn’t long, but it lingers. I want to hang on to the feeling forever.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Alison
It’smy last day at Morgan Financial Holdings. Graham offered me the job permanently, but I declined. I did what I came to do. I’ve spent three months righting the ship that Sam sailed off-course. Sorry for all of the boating analogies, but it fits. This department is just like the crew of a ship. One that was about to stage a mutiny. I couldn’t see it at first, but it took me only a few weeks to discover the degree of mismanagement by Sam and the people it was impacting. I thought Lindsay was the only person who was unhappy, but it turns out that almost everyone was disgusted with his decisions and behavior.
My instincts were right about the elevator too. I found a memo from security that notified all department heads about the malfunctioning microphone in that one elevator. He knew which one he could take to say whatever the hell he wanted to, and he didn’t just do that to me. A number of support staff along with Silvia mentioned he’d said some really inappropriate things to them while onthatelevator. They also knew he’d been drinking at the time. No doubt the odor was hard to miss.
Speaking of Sam, the last we heard, he’s in court-ordered rehab. Apparently he’d been pulled over for drunk driving several other times previously, and it was either rehab or jail time. I sort of hoped he’d get both. He did try to hit us, after all, but that was impossible to prove.
It’s okay. We know.
We.
We’re awenow. As of tonight, that is. Since I’m an independent consultant again, Ben and I are an official couple. No, we didn’t announce it at my going-away party, but I’m pretty sure everyone suspected as much.
He’s held up his side of the bargain. He hasn’t tried to kiss me or even touch me in over three long months. While I appreciate it, there were times, like the evenings we’d hang out at his place and watch a movie or a ball game, that I just wanted him to try something.Anything.
Well, that ends now. Tonight, Ben Schilling is mine. And I mean that in more ways than one.
When the knock sounds on my door, I push my shoulders back and breathe deep. Peeking at myself in the full-length mirror I’ve got on my closet door, I smile. “He’s not gonna know what hit him.”
A second round of knocks has me walking to my front door quickly. Standing up as straight as I can, I turn the knob and pull the door open to reveal Ben, looking wonderful in a navy wool peacoat and jeans. In his hands is the largest bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen. Not just roses, although I spy some of those. No, this bouquet is filled with things like lilies, tulips, and some others I can’t name. They’re all equally as vibrant and look like they were picked from an English garden.
Thinking he’s going to hand me the flowers, I giggle when I see he’s sort of frozen in his spot. I’m glad. I planned this to get a reaction out of him, and it seems to be working.
“What are you wearing?”
“Oh, this old thing?” I always loved it when women said things like that in old movies. I slide my palms down the silky gown. You see, I’m wearing the prettiest, sexiest nightie I could find. And believe me, I searched an entire day for the perfect one. This one is a deep teal blue, and I chose it because it almost matches his eyes. That and it’s so buttery soft, I knew he’d love the feel of it. A giggle erupts from me again as I watch the bundle of flowers fall to the ground.
The door slams shut, and Ben has me lifted in his arms a second later. “Bedroom,” he growls. I point to my right and laugh all the way.
Ben sets me on the bed, and I watch as he tears off his peacoat, then his dress shirt. Once he unbuckles his belt, he’s out of his jeans in no time, leaving him in a white undershirt and gray boxer briefs. This is the first time I’ve seen him without pants on—even after his concussion, he always had on sleep pants or sweats—so this is a treat because, ladies and gents, Ben Schilling is smokin’ hot. And hard. Really hard.
My breath is getting a little labored watching the striptease. When he reaches back behind his head, I hold my breath as he pulls off the undershirt, revealing his hard stomach. It’s not one of those super-duper bumpy ones, but it’s hard and flat. There’s a line of hair that leads from his navel down into his briefs. The urge to lick it is overwhelming. Hell, I want to lick everything of Ben’s.
I watch Ben’s fingers slide into the waistband of his underwear. I wait and wait. My heart’s beating so hard in my chest it feels like it wants to jump out. When he doesn’t make a move, I practically whine. His chuckle breaks my trance. “You ever going to look at me?”
“I am looking at you.” Wait. My head jerks up until our eyes meet. “Oh, sorry.”
With a hardy laugh, Ben strips off his boxers and I nearly choke. “Wow.” And I mean that. Wow.Wow-wow-wow. Ben Schilling is the total package. He’s hard and long and girthy. Is that a word? Girthy?
