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Liv shifted again, her arm came across his waist, she turned part way to her side, and her body nuzzled up against his. She brought her head up and laid it on his chest. Her eyes never opened, her breathing never changed. In her sleep Liv’s body sought his, she got close to him…when they made love, and when she slept.
Liv felt Ben’s body next to her, and this time, she wasn’t dreaming. Soft light filtered in through the window coverings, letting her know it was still early. She drifted back to sleep for a moment, then shook herself awake again. She wanted this time awake, while he slept.
Her eyes drifted over his face, slowly, as though they were her fingers, so slowly she let them wander. They lingered on the lines at the corner of his eye, etched there because of his smile, the one he gave so generously. They moved to the crease in the hollow above his eyes, between his eyebrows, as though as he slept stress stayed, furrowed there, not allowing his brow to be completely at rest. His mouth called her eyes to move to its pout. The corners turned down in his sleep, the same way they did when he played guitar, and got lost in it, forgetting where he was. He slept with his mouth closed. Did everyone? Had Scott? Liv didn’t remember. She closed her eyes and pulled at her memory, it wouldn’t bring Scott into focus. He’d faded, her mind no longer remembering how he slept, or how he looked. She opened her eyes again to continue her study of Ben’s face. His eyes were open, studying her.
His hand came up, joining his eyes. His fingers feathered strokes on her cheek. His eyes added to the caress.
Liv let her eyes wander back to where they’d been, on his mouth. Then let them slowly drift over his chin that jutted strongly when he concentrated on something. As her eyes moved lower, she saw the pulse beating in his neck. He swallowed and she watched the way the muscles changed when he did. Down they continued, over his chest, at rest now, it looked softer, her fingers longed to run through the downy hair scattered over it. But this feast was for her eyes.
She let them move to his arm, shifting back to see him better, without her body lying against it. His square shoulder never rounded. Had he been a swimmer? She tilted her head to look at his forearm, his wrist, and his hand. Masculine hands, with big, firm fingers, symmetrically calloused from their continued use on the strings of his guitar.
She looked back up to his chest. It rose and fell with a stronger rhythm, as if his heart was driving it, harder and faster.
Back to his face, his eyes were half-lidded, getting darker and hungrier as his breathing accelerated. His mouth opened slightly, but he didn’t speak.
Liv’s hand slowly moved the sheet that kept the rest of him hidden. Her eyes needed to take in all of him. Would he stay still and let them? He didn’t move.
Her eyes lingered on his torso, watching as his body changed the longer her eyes studied him, as though they were speaking to him. Urging him on to feel their heat.
More movement. The muscles in his thighs beckoned her attention. His leg shifted, his knee bent slightly. They drifted over his calf, his ankle and to his feet. She loved his feet. Feet said a lot about a man. His were strong, and sturdy. They carried so much, his feet.
She let her hands find their way back up the slow trail her eyes had just taken, softly stroking his skin as they went. He breathed in deeply, almost a gasp. Her lips longed to finish the journey. She brought her mouth to his skin and continued the path, slowly easing back over each spot her eyes had rested on.
Ben was so still, the pace of his breathing measured against his stillness. Liv climbed up and laid her entire body against his. Body on body, skin on skin. She loved it as much as he did. Her hand took his and she gently set it against her hip, giving him permission to move, to let his body begin to take part in the exploration hers began.
His other hand came up on its own, but as slowly as the first had. At first still, they started to move along her sides. Soft fingers trailed from each hip, to the side of her breasts and then up slowly over her shoulders, hardening as they got to her neck. Grasping as they reached her face, pulling as they brought her lips to his. At the same time his mouth joined with hers, his body did too. They fit together with such ease.
Liv raised up, her hands digging into his chest, the place her eyes kept selfishly to themselves only a few minutes ago. Her eyes took their place in his, searching for the thing they needed to see. Longing, love—there it was. She kept them there as she moved, bringing them both to the place where their bodies answered the need their eyes desired.
When Liv got out of the shower, Ben was sitting in the chair by the window, guitar in his arms, singing.
To see you here then, it tickles me crazy.
To see you here in the midst of your fall.
I know your fear, I know your tears.
But that smile, so sweet, that longing so deep.
He stopped when he realized she stood outside the bathroom door. She smiled, leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes.
Your eyes burn into my heart,
my love, my joy, my fall.
She wanted him to keep singing, she wanted him to finish. But she couldn’t wait. Ben seemed to sense it, leaning his guitar on the floor next to the table as she stalked toward him.
He stood, and she launched herself into him.
“You’re gonna be late, baby…”
“Don’t care.”
17
“Can you stay, or do you need to get back?” Liv asked Ben as he drove her back to the rodeo grounds.
“Waitin’ for you to ask me. Figured I already pulled the ‘I’m here and I’m stayin’ whether you want me to or not,’ card. Gotta let it be up to you sometimes.”
