I give him a small, appreciative smile.
"I told you I could get you a new one. A better breed,actually," Richard says out of nowhere, then smirks. "Might cost us as much as all your lost bets."
Ben's arm instantly drops and his eyes sharpen on Richard.
For a second, I think he'll sprint across the court and deck him right here.
Instead, his gaze snaps to me, narrowing. Like I'm the problem.
"So this is why you stayed in Seattle?" His voice is all teeth. "For this kind of 'maturity'? What the hell were you thinking?"
The sting lands because he's right—I'm pissed too. Even Lisa flinched, but Richard's too busy basking in his own golden glow to notice.
Ben does not get to judge me, though.
"Poetic," I snap. "We both ended up in the same hell. My husband's emotionally deaf, and your wife treats you like you're air she's allergic to."
Ben's scoff is deep, guttural. He reaches into the cherry bag without breaking eye contact, plucks one, and toys with it between tongue and teeth, jaw flexing in a way that isn’t accidental.
It's a reminder.
Of his mouth.
On my nipples.
I have to cross my arms so he doesn't see what that's doing to me, and glare.
"What?" he says, shrugging. "Next time, pick the winning team."
I move closer, eyes narrowed to slits. "I get it. You're hurtand in full attack mode. Not sure which sucks more, that or the withdrawals."
He snorts and clicks his mouth. "Love the self-reflection. Anything else you've diagnosed?"
I snap a nod. "Yeah. You've gone full romance villain, apparently. Telling me you'd blow up your life for me, then kiss your wife like it's the honeymoon all over again."
He smirks. "You're cute when you're jealous."
"Jealous?" I spit the word. "I'm appalled."
His eyes flash darker. "Appalled? If that's what you want," his voice drops and he angles his head even closer to mine, daring me, "I'll show you what I can do."
My pulse trips. Reflexively, my gaze flicks to Richard to check if he can hear us, if he knows what's happening in here. Luckily, Lisa's blabbering something into his head, all visionary painting it over the horizon and he listens to her, both of them turned the other way.
Ben notices me looking at Richard—looks at him, then back at me—and his eyes narrow. His shoulders bristle like I've crossed a line just by looking at my husband. "Why are you looking at him?"
"Are you threatening me?" I whisper.
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head before his expression flattens. "Stop looking at him. He won't save you. Look at me." The fruit bag lands near my hand with the laziest flick of his finger. "Say the truth, and I'll lose."
"What truth?" I frown at him.
His voice drops lower, each word dragged out slow enoughfor me to catch: "That when you were under me, you wanted it. That you still want it."
My mouth goes slack. Is he freaking serious right now?
I blink it away and hiss, "Do you even hear yourself? Get the setting? You're not morally grey. You turned pitch black."
He smiles like I've called him charming. "Guess that's what happens when you meet Emma Foster—"
