Ben bends down, hooking his arms under my thighs as he lifts me to pin me against the door. I choke on a gasp, my head falling back against the wood with a thunk, and then his lips are on my throat.
“I never do this,” I say, my skin heating up under his skilled lips. “Like never.”
He huffs a laugh but doesn’t speak.
“I don’t know why I agreed. It’s like…” I groan when he sucks on a tendon in my throat as he grinds his hard dick against my ass. “This is so not like me.”
He hums, dragging his lips up and down, eliciting a full-body shiver. “Do you want to stop?” he murmurs, breath gusting over my overheated flesh.
“No. I—no, I don’t think so.”
“Where’s your bedroom?”
I wave broadly. It’s the only bedroom, and if he can’t find it, that’s his problem.
My back leaves the door, and Ben carries me through the apartment like I weigh nothing, his arms still hooked firmly under my thighs. He somehow manages to push open the door, and all too soon, I’m sprawled across the center of my bed, my dress riding high on my thighs, and Ben’s eyes are greedily taking in my body.
Look, I know some people really struggle with their body, and when I was younger, I did too, but as I’ve gotten older, it’s become less and less important to me. My parts don’t determine who I am any more than the color I’ve chosen to put in my hair for the month. But under the weight of Ben’s stare? I feel unsettled. Like everything’s too real, and I’m not sure how to feel about it.
“You’re fucking stunning, Cotton Candy.”
I screw my face up, then glare at him. “I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”
His loud laugh echoes through the room. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I guess I’ll just have to keep coming up with names until I find one you like.”
He crawls in beside me, leaning over me. “Fat fucking chance of that happening,” I say, scoffing.
“I bet I could,” he says, his voice teasing as he leans down to kiss me again. He hums against my lips.
Even though I should be focusing on the way my cock is throbbing, the heat of Ben’s body, and the slow swipe of his tongue along my bottom lip, I can’t. My brain is too loud, and when my brain gets loud, so does my mouth.
Instead of my usual snark and sass, all that comes out is rambling bullshit.
“I really never do this,” I mumble against his lips. “I know I keep saying that, but I don’t.”
He breaks the kiss, sitting back on his heels to look at me.
“Darcy—he’s my best friend—thinks I’m like… fucking around with everything that walks, but I’m not. I don’t.”
Ben blinks at me, and my chances of actually getting laid instead of bragging about conquests that never happen go up in smoke. I’m not sure how to shut the fuck up, though.
“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with me.” Other than my inability to shut up, perhaps. “It’s just—”
“Hey,” Ben says softly, cutting off my rambling. “You’re good. We don’t have to do this, you know? Hooking up is supposed to be fun. If it’s not fun, we don’t do it.”
Well, that’s the simple answer and also the way I usually live my life, but dammit, I wanted something different this time.
“How about this?” he says, going on like we weren’t just making out. “My friend West has a real obsession with this cookie place down the road. They deliver. So how about we just chill and eat some cookies?”
Now it’s my turn to blink athim. “What?”
His laugh is loud and carefree. He doesn’t even seem mad that I made what should have been a fucking hot hookup an actual nightmare. “Cookies? You down? I’ve been watching a lot of true crime lately. We could eat some cookies and watch TV.”
He waggles his eyebrows at me, and a smile splits my face despite the protests from my brain. “Okay… yeah, that would be nice.”
Plopping down beside me, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, then makes a call, ordering a variety pack for delivery. When he glances at me, I rattle off my address in a daze, watching him until he hangs up.
I’m surprised, I can’t lie, but also… intrigued, and I can’t lie about that either.
