“I’mserious. We agree to the Blizzard Clause, we get it out of our system, then the minute we leave Connecticut we forget it happened. Because I need you to know that this all-important ‘focus’ of mine that you keep mentioning? It’s completely consumed byyou.”
His eyes settled on me with any levity gone. I continued with my closing appeal.
“You’d be doing me a favor,” I insisted.
“By sleeping with you,” he replied, incredulous.
“Yes, exactly. It would help merecapturemy focus. One-time offer, only good for tonight,” I insisted, even though I wasn’t sure I agreed with that part.
I watched his profile as he grappled with what it could mean to both of us. Ben was obviously perfectly equipped to fuck and run based on his dating history, so I was sure that he was consideringhow guilty he’d feel if I choked in Italy due to our one glorious night.
Which, hello ego.
“I’m sure it’s an exceptional penis,” I assured Ben. “But it ain’t magical. I’ll befine, I promise.”
After a few seconds of silence Ben finally stood up slowly and walked around to my side of the bed.
He held his hand out to me. “I’d like to formally ratify the Blizzard Clause.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Without a word, Ben climbed onto the bed and straddled me, his knees pressed against the outside of my thighs. My heart went slow and clumsy, like it was trying to move molasses through my veins. He held my gaze before lowering his head to brush his lips against mine, tentatively, like he was worried we were making a mistake.
Which we probably were, and neither of us cared.
The moment our lips touched I linked my hands behind his neck, so he’d understand that the Blizzard Clause was nonnegotiable.
We no longer had guardrails. Ben deepened the kiss like he’d just realized it as well, and I shivered in response.
We kissed like we’d rehearsed it, as if we’d spent the past four years nurturing what we’d started in Switzerland. I wondered if it would be strange for me to wriggle out of my sweatshirt immediately, because I was that desperate to feel his skin on mine.
Ben slid his hands under my sweatshirt and the T-shirt beneath it like he could read my mind. My body went hot, his touch a downed power line sparking along my skin.
He broke off the kiss to whisper in my ear. “Has it been obvious that not kissing you has been torture for me?”
I smiled as he pressed his lips along the side of my neck, my cheeks, my eyelids, like he needed to claim every bit of me.
“You were extremely professional,” I managed as his hand traveled higher beneath my sweatshirt, smoothing along the lower side of my bra. My breath hitched as he moved his hand to palm my breast over the thin fabric.
Had I packed the sexiest black one I owned, envisioning this very scenario? Not consciously, but my subconscious clearly knew what was up.
So much of my life was spent trying to get or stay warm, but now here I was fighting to cool off, because Ben had me boiling. I pushed against him, trying to give him more access to my body, but it was no use. I arched my back and he jumped away from me, a horrified look on his face.
“I’m sorry! Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?”
Instead of answering him I sat up and pulled my sweatshirt over my head, leaving me just in my bra.
The mix of relief and awe on his face almost made me laugh out loud.
“Oh damn,” he murmured. “You are...perfect.”
He slid his hand behind my neck and gently drew me back to him, and then we were melting into one another again. It felt desperate and a little unhinged, and I loved it. Ben dropped his hands to my waist to shift my body and I followed his lead like I was his dance partner, moving until I was on top of him.
Like he wanted me to be in control.
I welcomed it, because I wasnotfeeling tentative about what was happening. I wound up straddling him in just my bra and sweats, which still felt like too much clothing. I wordlessly reached behind me and released my bra clasp in a single motion, then slid it off.
“Oh,fuck, Quinn.”
