He pressed his forehead to mine. A lopsided smile spread over his face. “One of us had to.”
With that, he seized me and walked me backward until my shoulders hit the wall, just like he’d done at the restaurant, picking up where we’d left off. I gasped, but he pressed his lips to mine and swallowed it.
All pretense dropped. Every game, every joke, every cutting word meant to keep him at bay. I slid Ben’s tux jacket down his arms, hands flying to his shirt, sliding away the bow tie, unfastening his buttons with surprisingly shaky fingers. Suddenly, I didn’t care about Slittery or the bill, about Sarah or anything else. I cared only about getting as much of Ben as close to me as possible.
I was stunned by my hunger for him, stunned at how quickly my body abandoned my control, hands moving of their own volition, mouth humming as he kissed down my throat. Only one thought surfaced: I got to touch him again, kiss him again, after all this time, and it was surreal. But my hunger was bottomless; no matter how much I got, it wasn’t enough. This was the problem with me: my natural instincts, if not suppressed, had me wanting more than anyone could ever give.
“Tell me how to keep you,” I whispered, smiling at Ben with the lightness of a joke.
He raised his eyebrows, eyes falling to the places where we entwined. I traced the flush of color as it rose over his cheeks. “I think you have me.”
Our lips met, lighting sparks inside me. I unzipped his pants, feeling him push, hard and thick, into my hand. His breath hitched for a moment and then he kissed me harder, driven by need, this man who was always in such perfect control.
He slid his hands under the chiffon layers of my dress, the rough pads of his fingers and smooth nails trailing fire up my thighs. I arched, and he pressed into me. The room was cold but for the heat of his palm, cupping me through the thin layer of my panties, and then his fingers, stroking.
I bit Ben’s neck and he pulled back to watch me, eyes liquid fire, as he slid the piece of silk aside and circled his thumb over me the way I loved, the way I’d missed, the way I’d tried to repeat by myself but never could. He circled over and over until I was rising off the wall and then he pushed a finger inside me, slowly, then out again, thumb still rubbing. I bit my lip to keep the sound inside. He curled his finger and I bucked, riding the rhythm of his hand.
I’d spent too long waiting. As soon as I thought it, I knew that’s what I’d been doing. For five years, but especially since he’d come back to Texas. Waiting and waiting until I could shatter the pretense between us, close the distance, kiss him, feel his arms hard and strong around me. I wouldn’t wait any longer.
I tugged at Ben’s pants and he slid out of them and kicked them off, lifting me higher against the wall.
“Wait,” he said. “I don’t have...”
“My purse.”
He lunged for my purse on the floor, still gripping me, and found the condom inside it. I was back up against the wall before I could blink.
He rolled it on, then froze. “Lee—”
But this time I swallowed his words and wrapped my legs around him. He gripped my hips and I pressed myself against him, practically begging, until finally he pushed inside me with a catch of his breath. I closed my eyes as he filled me, ground my head against the wall, plaster rough on my shoulders. Ben groaned my name again and goose bumps pricked my skin.
“Bed,” I instructed, and he spun away, holding me tight against his chest as he lowered us onto the four-poster bed, the comforter cool against my back.
He held my face in one hand and kissed me; with the other, he gripped my hips and lifted them, sliding into me, filling me so deep and then pulling back, then over again, pushing deeper and deeper.
I closed my eyes and arched to meet him, letting my hips move, letting my body have what it wanted so badly. I’d tried for years not to think about Ben, about how big he was, how good he felt. I’d tried so hard to not use the memory of what he felt like pushing inside me when I touched myself, when I was with other men, but I could never hold out for long. Now that he was inside me again, real and not imagined, and my body was on fire, I realized the only thing I should regret is that I hadn’t spent every minute of every day fucking Ben Laderman, who could make nerve endings come alive inside me other men couldn’t touch.
Fuck it. I’d never been able to resist the memory of Ben in those unguarded moments, not for five years, and now I wanted everything I’d dreamed about.
I gripped his shoulders and he knew what it meant, our bodies in tune like we’d never left each other. He rolled onto his back and pulled me on top of him, drawing me down with maddening, teasing slowness.
I gasped, arching over him as he pushed into me, inch by inch. He clutched my hips and I kissed him like a wild thing, biting his lip until he sank deeper. I rocked my hips, the pressure building, until I gasped, “Ben,please.”
The way he was looking at me, so intense, had me clenching around him as I moved. He gripped my hips, guiding me in a relentless rhythm, rubbing me hard against him. He pulled down the straps of my chiffon dress and his warm mouth found my nipple, sucking, tongue flicking, and then I was over the edge. He caught my moan in his mouth and slowed, but only for a few precious seconds, and then his hands were gripping my hips, pumping me faster.
“I missed you so much.” The words tore from his lips.
It was possible I was going to die in this madwoman’s attic inside the Governor’s Mansion, or we would get caught, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was that Ben’s hands were sliding up my waist as he said, “Fuck me, Lee,” in that ragged voice, and then I was pulsing as waves of pleasure crashed through me, and he didn’t slow—no, he was just getting started.
21
A Gentle Knife in the Back
Ben dragged his teeth down my neck, making me shiver, our spent bodies pressed together on top of the bed, limbs tangled.
“Vampire,” I accused, and he smiled devilishly. In the lamplight, he could pass for it: his hair was black as midnight, long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, the midnight blue rings around his irises enough to pull you in.
I tilted my head and Ben pressed his lips to the places he’d marked with his teeth. “My chest hurts,” he said against my throat.
