He reached out to take the champagne and orange juice and set them on the counter, his eyebrows pulling together. “You know, if you don’t want to have sex today, we don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel obligated to have sex with me just because you accepted my invitation to brunch. We can cook the food and just hang out.”
If I hadn’t been watching, I’d have missed the pained expression that flitted across his features ever so briefly as he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and pulled two tumblers out of the cabinet.
I grabbed the glasses from his hands, needing something to do while we had this conversation. I didn’t think I could look at him while I told him just how much I wanted to have sex with him. I wasn’t normally shy about this, but Ben set me on edge in more ways than one.
I set the tumblers on the counter, adding some orange juice to each. “No, it’s not that. I definitely want to have sex with you.”
“Okay. Then what?”
I poured a healthy amount of champagne into the glasses and handed him one before taking a gulp of mine.
I sighed, not sure how to explain exactly why I felt jittery and nervous. “I guess, yeah, you make me nervous. Not the sex, but I don’t know how to act around you now that we’re...”
“Banging?” He arched a brow, his eyes spearing me with a quick, heated look.
“Yeah.” I swallowed, my stomach tightening in answer.
He shrugged as he took a sip of his drinkbefore setting it back down and walking toward me from across the kitchen.
No, not walking.
Stalking. As if I were his prey and he was afraid if he moved too fast, I’d bolt.
I finished my mimosa in one gulp and set the glass on the counter. His hands rested on my hips before he lifted me onto the countertop.
He braced his hands on either side of me, leaning down to hold my gaze. “I don’t expect you to act any differently with me, Eve. Maybe a little less bite to your insults as long as I’m keeping you plied with orgasms.” He smiled briefly. “But I always enjoyed spending time with you before we were banging. I don’t imagine that would change now.”
I exhaled at that and cracked a smile. “Okay.”
He wasn’t expecting someone new or different. Just the same Eve I’d always been, sarcastic, confident, stubborn, and maybe a little cynical.
“You know, I may have thought I hated you, but I always loved verbally sparring with you,” I said, the admission flying past my lips before I could stop it.
Ben looked smug. “Of course you did. I’m a worthy opponent. Not many people could keep up with that mouth of yours, princess.” His gaze drifted to my lips.
I laid my hand against his stomach, his muscles jumping under my light touch. I spread my legs, grasping the material of his t-shirt and pulling him closer. He stood flush to the counter and wrapped my legs around his waist.
I gavehim a wicked smile as I leaned back on the counter. “Admit it, O’Connor. You love my mouth.”
He made a deep sound in the back of his throat. “Damn right, I love that mouth.” He reached up, touching my lips with the tip of his finger. I grabbed his wrist before he could take his hand away and opened my mouth, sucking his finger and twirling my tongue over it before letting them slide out of my mouth.
He groaned as he traced my jaw with the finger that had just been in my mouth, leaving a damp trail behind. My eyes fluttered closed as he gripped my chin roughly, claiming my mouth with his.
Ben made me confident in ways I’d never been before. I hadn’t ever wanted anyone the way I wanted him, not in this carnal, primal way. And I had never left a sexual encounter as satisfied as Ben had left me after the wedding.
My tongue swept past his lips, and he gripped my thighs, scooting me closer to the edge of the counter so I could feel the hardness of his cock pressed against my core.
There were too many clothes in the way. But he didn’t seem in a rush to undress me. It had been dark in the hotel room that night, but today, I wanted to watch him touching me. I wanted to see what his face looked like when he tipped over that ledge.
I grasped at the hem of his shirt and hastily pulled it over his head, breaking our kiss. I explored the contours of his chest and stomach. My nails grazed lightly across his ribs and down to his hip, his skin jumping and breath hitching under my touch.
He yanked at the top of the romper. “How the hell do I get this thing off you?” He stepped back, looking me up and down, trying to find the secret.
I smirked at him from my perch on the countertop. “If you want it off, you’ll just have to figure it out,” I answered, watching his brows furrow as his eyes scanned over me again.
He growled, stepping back to the counter where I could wrap my legs around him again. “I’ll get this damn thing off you one way or another, even if it means ripping it off you with my bare hands.” His fingers tightened on the material at my thighs, tugging experimentally.
“Don’t you dare rip it.”
