“Regrets?” she parroted, her brain barely functioning after that kiss.
"I don’t want to be that guy who took advantage of you. But I need you to decide quickly, because if you change your mind, I need to jump into a cold shower. A really, really cold one.”
She liked that he wasn’t completely perfect. He was close, but not so close as to be annoying. She wouldn’t regret this. Not tomorrow, next week, or next month. It was right and good, and for some crazy reason, she trusted him. For once in her life, she was going to listen to that little voice in her head that said he wasn’t a jackass.
"For heaven’s sake, shut up and kiss me again."
Chapter
Sixteen
Kelly didn't feelreckless or uncertain. Her world might be filled with questions and little answers, but this wasn’t one of those things. The case, the worries about Lori, her family, and even her own anxieties didn’t matter.
She pulled him down to her, and this time there was no hesitation, no tentativeness. His lips met hers, soft at first, then quickly growing hungry, and she capitulated eagerly, wanting more of what only he could give her.
If he thought she was the kind of girl to sit quietly and be kissed, he was dead wrong. She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer, letting her hands slide up into his short, silky hair, surprising herself at how much she liked the weight and texture of it in her fingers.
Ben let out a low, ragged sound as she bit gently at his lower lip. He tasted like hot chocolate and something that was just him, fresh, warm, and undeniably masculine.
She wanted to burrow into it, inhale, wrap herself in it. His hands found her waist and squeezed, not hesitantly but with the kind of confidence that made her want to gasp, and she nearlydid when he pressed her body back into the couch, flattening her against the cushions.
Yes. A million times yes.
His lips moved from her mouth to her jaw, to her neck, and then back up again, as if needing confirmation, over and over, that this was really happening. It amused her how his restraint made her want to push for more and more. There could never be enough.
She arched into him, and he made a strangled sound, something between a groan and a laugh. His hands were under her t-shirt now, broad and warm, spanning her ribs as if they belonged there. The heat between them built in steady increments with every touch, every kiss, every pass of his palm along her ribcage, ratcheting the tension tighter until her entire body hummed with it.
She was not the kind of woman who ignored consequences, but she’d already decided to ignore the future and just exist in the moment. Maybe this would only last as long as their stay in Bergen, or maybe it would never happen again, but she knew with absolute clarity that she wanted Ben Reilly in every way it was possible to want a person.
He pulled back, breathing heavily, his forehead resting against hers.
"If you want to stop, say so now," he whispered.
Stop? Not a chance.
"I'm not stopping," she said, voice hoarse and direct. Her hands slid under his shirt, fingers skimming over the hard planes of his back, feeling the way his muscles tensed when she touched him. "Unless you want to."
Ben let out a shaky laugh. "Not at all."
He kissed her again, but this time it was almost desperate. It was no longer measured or gentle, just pure, unfiltered need. She had always thought she preferred slow build-up, the teaseand the anticipation, but there was something addictive about this; to be wanted so openly made her dizzy.
The couch was not built for two adults making out like teenagers, and when they nearly slid onto the floor, she giggled and then gasped as Ben caught her, both of them tangled in a mess of limbs and laughter. What might have been a bucket of cold water only made her want him all the more. That she could laugh with him during a passionate moment was a revelation. With Ben, it was the least awkward thing in the world.
His hands lifted up the hem of her t-shirt before tossing it aside. She’d normally be self-conscious, worried about what he thought about her bare body, but she was too busy tugging at his clothes to care. For a guy who worked in an office and wore expensive Italian business suits, he shouldn’t have been so incredibly gorgeous unclothed. His shoulders shouldn’t have been so broad, and his abs shouldn’t have been so flat and ridged.
It was as if he were sculpted from marble by one of the Greek gods and given to her as a gift.
Lucky me.
At some point, her own clothes had dissolved, to be looked for at a later point. They were completely unneeded at the moment, and if they’d spontaneously combusted, she wouldn’t have cared a bit.
She pulled him down again, this time flipping them so she was on top. The sense of control was intoxicating, and Ben seemed more than happy to cede it to her for a while. She kissed down his jaw, along his collarbone, marveling at the little shiver he gave when she bit lightly at his shoulder. Her hands roamed everywhere, his arms, his chest, his back, memorizing the topography of him, learning what made him tense, what made him moan.
His own touch was gentle, his hands cupping her breasts while his thumbs stroked the hard, rosy peaks. He kissed her again, but this time his mouth traveled downward, and when he took her nipple in his mouth, she gasped, clutching at his hair as if it could anchor her to the earth. She was losing herself, dissolving in the sensation of his mouth, his hands, the way his breath went hot and ragged against her skin.
“We need to make this a little more comfortable,” he whispered against the skin of her shoulder, his breath warm on the flesh.
Reaching behind her, he snagged a few couch pillows, tossing them to the floor, creating a makeshift bed spread out before the television.
