Frayed (Connections #4)

Frayed (Connections #4) Page 27

She moves over to me.

I understand where her sadness is coming from. Where we started is complicated, confusing even. I was with Dahl then and there’s nothing I could say to make what we did right, no, what I did, right. I try to calm her by combing my fingers through her hair. I would hold her, hug her, if I could. When her sobbing eases I lean over and kiss her head. After a few long silent minutes I say, “Sit up. Let’s put this aloe on you.”

She slides across the sheets before settling with her back to me and I lean over to whisper softly in her ear, “Lift your hair.”

I take a moment to collect myself, trying to control the impact she’s having on me. She’s barely dressed and it’s hard to control my desire. I open the bottle and rub the cool liquid in my hands. “This is going to tingle at first, but you’ll feel much better, I promise.” I carefully pat it on her shoulders and just feeling her smooth skin makes me want to do so much more.

She screams, “Ouch,” and I can hear a sob and with that any sexual thoughts I had disappear. Fuck, I hate this. I don’t want her to cry. “I’m sorry, baby. Almost done.” I pat her shoulders, her back, her chest. She’s beyond sunburned everywhere. When I’m done I stand up. “I’ll be right back.”

She nods, taking another sip of water.

I leave the bathroom with a washcloth soaked in cold water. I place it on her forehead and she grabs it. Her fingers touch mine and an electrical current exchanges between us. Emptying my pockets, I lie down next to her and she moves to my chest. She fits perfectly there. She rubs her fingers over the buttons of my shirt and I resist the urge to touch her. I settle for running my fingers through her silky-smooth strands of hair and breathing in her lemon scent.

Exhaustion hits quickly and just as I start to drift off she softly says, “Ben.”

“Yeah,” I mumble.

“You can call me S’belle.”

I kiss her head one last time and grin before closing my eyes.

CHAPTER 18

Dirty Laundry

Bell

A tingle radiates all the way from my head to my toes as a vision of his lean and sinewy muscled body standing behind me on his surfboard with his very erect penis pressing into my back awakens me from my dreamlike sleep and I float back to earth.

“Hmm . . .” The noise escapes me involuntarily.

I knew I was a goner yesterday the minute he strode out of the water. There he was—a vision of utter perfection with his tight stomach muscles on display. He has stunned me into silence many times over the past weeks with his charm, the funny things he says, and his utter good looks, but when I saw him on the beach—his lean form, the faint line of hair that disappears into the waistband of his shorts, the dips and ridges of his half-naked body, then when his laugh dipped from his throat, everything just seemed so right. And lying here knowing he shared my bed last night for the first time, I can’t contain my glee.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I can’t help feeling amazed that the man I dream about is the one I’m waking up next to this morning. But then a sudden fit of anxiety bounces through me. I’m still a little scared. That hasn’t changed. It’s not a frightened kind of scared, though. It’s the same feeling I got when he first looked at me across the room almost a month ago. It was the same way he looked at me the night we were together so long ago and it thrills me, excites me, and scares me at the same time.

We are different people now than we were when our bodies first collided into a passion that consumed us. Sure, we’ve fooled around twice since, but it wasn’t like that night. I know he wants me in that way again, I can tell, and I want the same thing. But so much has happened—and there are still things that need to happen, truths to be told, for this to mean something. I am afraid it might be too much for him, or maybe too much for me. Yet the past few weeks have shown me that the pull between us is too strong to deny . . . I have to give us a try.

Deciding to wake up, I let my fingers creep across the sheets, inching their way around so I can feel him. But he’s not anywhere in the bed. Last night we hadn’t had sex, but it was still somehow unforgettable. The way he took care of me, how sweet he was, his concern for how I was feeling. The way my head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck and how I fell asleep in his arms. It all felt so real, so right . . . there was nothing wrong about any of it.

With the light streaming through the blinds, my eyes slowly blink open. I look around my room for him. My lips curl into a smile when I spot his sneakers on the carpet. As the smile spreads across my lips, my hand flies to my mouth, and although a few small bumps remain, they don’t hurt. Thoughts of my feelings for him bubble back to the surface. I locked them away for a long time, but no matter how hard I tried to forget him I couldn’t let him go.

I ached for him when I saw him in my brother’s house last year. Having no idea who he was, I felt hope cascading through me. I thought it was finally our time. Memories of how he’d brought me to cl**ax over and over were all I could think of. I’d blocked out everything else. But when I found out he was Dahlia’s Ben, her long-lost fiancé thought dead, I was sickened, horrified even that she had been the one whose boyfriend I had taken without regard and I knew the flame he had lit inside me needed to be doused. Thank God Dahlia didn’t hold on to angry feelings. Thank God she couldn’t see inside my head. But she was in love with my brother and nothing else mattered. She was willing to move forward. She accepted what I had done, what Ben and I had done, and I was so very thankful

Then when I saw him again I wasn’t worried about Dahlia, or River, or even my mother; I was worried about myself. No matter how hard I tried to shut him out I, couldn’t. When I looked in his eyes the past became a blur; the only thing I could see were the memories of how he made me feel. So I let him in. I couldn’t help myself. More than anything I wanted to feel that way again. But this time I knew I needed to proceed with caution. And that’s what I’ve done—until now.

I sigh deeply at all the memories. The issues are still there, but this time I feel strong enough to face them, to throw caution to the wind and accept the consequences. I twist my back and stretch my neck, happy to be feeling only a fraction of the pain I felt yesterday, and a huge grin crosses my lips. It’s Saturday and I have no plans. Hopefully Ben and I can spend the day together—alone. I’m particularly thankful right now that I told Tate I couldn’t work today. I knew after Ivy’s event I’d be wiped. He was upset, but the event he had planned for today wasn’t mine; it was his. He just wanted me there.

It was time for me to start pulling back on assisting him with events so I could spend more time on my own planning. Part of me wishes I could just leave, but I’m not ready to quit, although I’m not sure how much longer I can take it. He’s becoming more and more demanding of my time, and his advances toward me since our breakup last winter aren’t letting up.

Sliding my feet to the floor, I spot Ben’s keys and wallet on my nightstand. And then I start second-guessing myself, wondering if moving forward with him right now is what I should be doing. My goal for this year was to focus on myself. Get my life on track. It didn’t include a relationship—that wasn’t in my plans. But everything about him seems so right this time. And even the repercussions don’t seem overwhelming. Sure, my family’s issues will be abundant. But Dahlia has accepted Ben in her life and I’m sure she can help me with River. Xander will be an ass, but I can handle him. The biggest issue of all will be my mother. But once I explain to her what Ben said last night, that he wanted to leave the past in the past, I know she’ll understand.

Looking down at the clover I’ve worn for the past six years, I can’t help thinking . . . why tell him? What’s done is done; there’s no undoing it.

My nose starts to twitch, tearing me from all my thoughts as I catch the faint smell of sizzling bacon in the air. I sniff again, thinking about my empty refrigerator. Ambling out of bed, I make a quick stop in the bathroom before I patter down the hall in search of him and the delicious smell. My heart leaps at the sight in the kitchen—Ben, messy blond hair, muscled, skin tanned, barefoot, standing at my stove in front of a frying pan. With a fluttering stomach, I lick my lips wanting to just taste him. He looks nothing short of edible in his white shirt and faded jeans that hug him just right. His pants are hung low, frayed at the hem just like his shirt. He is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He has always been.

I watch as he flips the slices before him and remember the last time we spent the night together—and how it ended. I blink that sad thought away. And again needing to make sure this is real—I step closer.

“S’belle, you’re awake.” He grins while dropping a piece of bacon onto a plate.

My pulse races. Those two syllables that I’ve longed to hear from his lips for so long and suddenly any doubts I had are gone—I know I’m ready to take this leap with him. I lean against the kitchen doorway and I smile. “Good morning. You went shopping?”

He laughs. “I picked a few things up while I was at the store last night. I noticed you were a little on the empty side.” He points to the fridge.

“Yeah, I haven’t gotten the living on my own thing down yet,” I respond, but really I have; I just hate it.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” I answer. My voice is low and seductive.

He turns. “Good. It’s almost done. How’s the sunburn?” he asks, sweeping the length of me with his eyes as he cracks an egg into a bowl.

I raise my arms in a catlike stretch, making sure to pull my hair up off my shoulders so it tumbles down when I let it go. Then I run my hands down my body.

His eyes flicker over me.

“It’s much, much better,” I purr.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

I nod and smile, slow and sweet.

The most devilish grin forms on his lips and he quickly tosses the eggshell into the sink. Then he turns the stove off and transfers the pan to the burner beside it.

“Come here,” he demands, then adds, “Now.”

Not only do his words and his smile send tingles to every nerve in my body, but the sound of his voice and the anticipation of what’s to come make me quiver with need. I saunter into the kitchen in my best attempt to be as seductive as he is. And it works, because in a heartbeat he grabs me and pushes me up against the counter. His hands cup the back of my neck and he pulls me to him. Heat and his hardness assault me immediately. Just the feel of his lips on mine sweeps me away—lust and need the only things I can think about, the only things left in the room. I fall into his kiss, whimpering at the way his tongue presses against mine, the way it searches my mouth, demanding all of me. The kiss is warm, deep, and desire floods me in a mad rush.

Leaving me breathless, he pulls back and studies my face. His fingers move to gently stroke my shoulders beneath the straps of my tank top. “Does this hurt?” He dips his head to kiss my shoulder.

I shake my head no because I can’t speak. The feel of his skin on mine causes my breath to catch in my throat and I’m rendered speechless.

“Good.” He peppers light, soft kisses up my neck and back down.

I toss my head back.

He pushes my straps farther down and his dips even lower.

“This?” he asks as his lips touch my nipple and circle it while his hand cups the other one.

“N . . . n . . . no,” I stammer.

He licks and sucks one nipple while he rolls the other between his thumb and finger.

I press my h*ps forward. “Oh God, Ben.”

I can feel his lips tilt up into a smile. He looks up at me from underneath his lashes. “You like that?”

I feel my legs start to tremble from just the look he’s giving me.

“I didn’t hear you.”