‘I can see what having me close does to you.’ And my heart almost stops as her gaze dips, and her hands moves.
Chapter 9
PENNY
Ben inhales a sharp breath when I trail my fingers down his chest and over the hard, ridged planes of his stomach, air stuttering from his chest as I graze the trail of downy hair. The refrigerator hums and birdsong and sunlight spills in through the open window at our backs, but as I tug on the towel and Ben exhales a long curse, I’m aware of nothing else but him. Still, I can’t quite believe I’m doing this, but I tell myself the fabric isn’t really concealing anything.Not the way it tents.
Of course, I’m curious. Curious to see if my fleeting glimpse was correct. Curious to touch him. To taste. Or maybe I’m just going mad. Maybe sleep deprivation has finally driven me over the edge. So much for my hiatus from men. But looking doesn’t mean—
‘Oh, my,’ I whisper. I wasn’t seeing things earlier. ‘You’re definitely not little Ben anymore.’
‘I was never really—’
He gasps again as I draw my fingers across his length, from root to tip, muttering a harshfuckas my thumb rubs his silken head. As I take his hard cock into my hand, I’m not sure where I want to look most—at the straining veins and vulgar beauty I hold in my hand, or maybe his face as his sharp breaths disturb the curls on my head. As I chance a look up, I know I’ve made the right choice. I don’t think I’ve ever had a man look like this at the result of my touch.
The mixture of agony and ecstasy, of rapture and relief.
But what of the right choice? What does that mean to me? Ben groans, my thoughts falling away like October leaves as I tighten my grasp, the sounds that he makes almost unravelling.
‘Harder,’ he grunts. ‘I like it hard.’
He groans again as my grasp tightens. His next breath is a long, measured exhale. Maybe the result of my hand on him or maybe preparing himself for what he does next. His index finger tips my chin, his eyes searching every inch of my face as though making sure this is real. As close as we were, he dips his head, and at that moment, we’re kissing. Soft, tentative lips and little gasps. I’ve never been this close to him ever, not physically. I’ve never noticed the gold in his green eyes, or the tiny scar just under in his lash line.
It seems there are so many things I didn’t see in Ben.
‘Don’t stop.’ The raspy sound is more breath than words, but did he say it or did I? Not that it matters because I can’t stop, greedy for more as I press my lips firmly against his as I continue to explore the weight in my hand. I can smell the mint of his toothpaste and what smells suspiciously like my shampoo as need builds in my veins, demanding I seek more.More kisses, more sensation, more Ben.Then I seem to have a stroke of genius as I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, releasing it only to sink my teeth into the soft flesh.
His responding moan is taut and desperate, his body seeming to vibrate with restraint. A restraint that’s as tenuous as my previous resolve as he moves so quickly, the kitchen counter is at my back.
‘I’ve wanted this—you—forever,’ he growls, feeding his hands into my hair. ‘Tell me I can have you. Tell me I’m not dreaming still.’
‘Ben... ’ I’m not sure what the answer is supposed to be, but I hate how pathetically needy I sound. This might be the worst idea in the world, but as his thumbs stroke a path along my cheekbones, all thoughts ofright or wrongdissolves. Maybe my answer is written in my expression or my fingertips, or maybe he makes the decision for me as he bends his head to kiss me again, deeper and wetter. His hands remain in my hair, his body and elegant arc over me.
‘For the longest time,’ he whispers into the kiss, using his thumbs raise my head to give him access to my jaw. ‘You in your pyjamas, your nipples hard under the worn cotton, your arse hanging out of the shorts. It’s a wonder I didn’t go blind from touching myself.’
‘Pervert,’ I rasp out, my smile directed at the ceiling as his kisses work along my jaw and neck, his stubble abrading every inch of my skin.
Suddenly, Ben spins me to face the window, my hands slapping the countertop as he grabs my hips in his hands, feeding one up my body to grasp the nape of my neck. ‘That’s right, sweetheart. I’m the biggest fucking pervert as far as you’re concerned.’ As though to emphasise the point, he flexes his hips, pushing his bare cock against my ass. ‘This arse has taunted me many a night,’ he rasps, his mouth a whisper from my ear. ‘Kept me awake. Kept me hard.’
I don’t have an answer beyond the rapid sound of my breath and the thudding of my heart banging against the countertop. I grasp blindly behind me, though trying to grab what piece of him I’m unsure. All I know is I need him closer, harder, more.
‘Shush, sweetheart,’ he rasps. I hadn’t realised I was making any noise and thought the chant ofplease, please, pleasewas just an echo in my head. ‘Soon.’ His mouth moves from my ear in hot biting kisses down my neck just as his hand lifts from my hip to my front, pushing between the softness of my belly and the hard edge of the counter. Ben fumbles with the waist tie of my scrubs, giving up almost as quick to begin feeding the hem of my top up my spine instead. If I wasn’t concerned about the window, the daylight, and potential gawping neighbours, I think I might be now. At least, until my top comes up over my head.
I pull it from my arms, moving the curls from my cheeks as his lips find the slope of skin between my shoulder and neck.His lips, then his teeth. Oh, God, who knew it could feel like this.My legs almost give out as my insides explode in a succession of tiny sensory fireworks.
Holy fuck, I’ve never been bitten. No wonder he likes it.
‘I need you, Ben.’ My voice sounds hoarse as I reach around, definitely trying to grasp his cock this time.
Everything stills—his hands on my body, his lips on my skin. Everything except my heart, that is, as it stutters as cool air touches my skin. He’s moving, pulling away. He draws my body up from the countertop, his hand at the crook of my elbow as he turns me. I’m almost frightened to look at him as he pushes the wildness from my face, tipping my chin.
‘Say it again,’ he says. Not a whisper or a demand. The sun behind me brightens the flecks of gold in his gaze. ‘Say it again. Say it for me, Nell.’
‘I need you,’ I whisper.
‘Now I know I’m not dreaming because those are words I never imagined you saying.’ His long fingers hold my face as he leans closer, a press of lips against lips, the feel of his cock against my hip—something I can’t ignore as he kisses me thoroughly, tenderly, a kiss of passion and care.
His whole body appears to tremble as he pulls back, his eyes wide open and reflecting my own face. Ben’s hands move from my face down my neck, his long fingers spanning my collarbone. His left pinkie finger finds the beauty mark near my shoulder, and for some reason, this makes him smile. His large hands move farther over my shoulder, sliding the straps of my plain cotton bra down my arms.
