“God, Rosie…” Ben lowered himself to his forearms as he entered her slowly, as though savoring her. Lord knew she was savoring him. “Am I hurting you?”
Her mind had lost the capacity for rational thought, so she shook her head. She wasglowing, practically levitating off the bed as tension coiled low in her belly. She pressed her lips to his, wanting to be as connected as possible, to hold Ben as tightly as she could for as long as she could.
“I-I have to move.” His voice was gravel, shards of broken glass wrapped in velvet, making her nerve endings scream, then soothing them with pleasure. “God, you feel so good. Is it too much?”
“No,” she managed, her mind devoid of logical thought, but now composed entirely of raw sensation and need. He slid back and in again, the slow glide sending fire deep into her belly. The sense of impending fireworks had returned to her skin, but so much stronger, as though her body was consuming her from within.
Ben’s movements were slow, purposeful. He pushed up on his hands, perspiration dotting his hairline as he looked down at where they were joined. “Look at you. You take me perfectly, like a fucking dream.”
“This is real,” she panted, and he covered her again, his tongue insistent in her mouth. Her hips rocked upward to meet his thrusts, chasing the pleasure building deep inside her.
“You are too good to be real,” he grunted against her lips. “What do you need to get there?”
“Get where?” Stupid brain. Apparently, it had been jettisoned to make room for whatever delicious thing Ben was doing with his tongue in the hollow below her ear.
He clenched his jaw and moaned again. “How can I make you come?”
“Oh.” She reached for his hand and dragged it down her body, bringing his thumb to the bundle of nerves just above where they were connected. As he began to thrust with slow, steady passes, Ben stroked her clitoris, and she jolted as pleasure rocketed through her.
“Fuck, I felt that,” Ben hissed, the tendons in his neck straining as he clenched his jaw, his tempo increasing. “I need you to come, Rosie.”
A moment of panic threatened to upend her. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.
Ben stopped, pressing his lips to hers. “I won’t come until you do. We both need this.” He bit his lower lip and moved his thumb again in slow circles, varying the pressure and speed until ripples of electricity shot down to her toes.
Her hips moved of their own volition, the sense of fullness overwhelming her as she began spiraling again, higher and higher until her breath caught and she dug her fingernails into his shoulders. “That’s it, Ben, I’m—”
The fireworks erupted deep in her core, and her entire body twisted with pleasure until it burst, spilling out from her toes and fingertips. Ben cursed and thrust deep into her before pulling out and pulsing against her belly into the condom. With a moan, he collapsed to her side with heaving breaths, then rolled to cover her chest with his. She soared back down to earth, grounded by his weight across her.
Her surroundings returned in fractured pieces of sensation. The perspiration gathering where Ben’s body pressed against hers. The faint sounds of the street outside. The fresh soap smell that clung to Ben’s hair.
After a moment, he pushed away and entered the water closet. Unaccountably shy, Rose pulled the sheet over her body, shifting to sit against the headboard. What did any of this mean? They had given in to the attraction between them twice now; what would tomorrow bring? Next week?
Next month would mean London, and Timothy, and—
Ben hesitated in the doorway. His eyes glowed, and a small smile pulled at his lip. “You’re sleeping in here tonight,” he said as he walked to her and handed her a glass of water.
Rose smiled as he slid under the sheet and pulled her against his chest. “I always sleep in here.” She stroked her fingers along his collarbone. “I should be the one granting you permission to share my bed two nights in a row.”
He raised one dark brow. “Yourbed?”
With a dramatic huff, she shrugged. “Fine, it’s Wig’s bed, but he will concede ownership.” They sat in silence for several long moments, long enough that Rose had to look up and see if Ben’s lids were still open.
“Rosie,” he breathed, “that—I haven’t ever felt like that during sex.”
She curled into his chest and pressed a kiss to his sternum. “I have little basis for comparison.”
“Fuck.” Ben rolled to face her, catching her shoulder in one hand and cupping her cheek in the other. “I didn’t even ask you—do you hurt? Did I—”
“It was perfect,” she interrupted, and the tension drained from his expression. “You were perfect.”
His lips moved into a satisfied smirk as he rolled onto his side and pulled her close. “Give me a chance and I’ll make it even more perfect.”
She pushed his shoulder playfully, then nuzzled against his chest. “You want to do this again, then?”
Ben nudged a lock of hair off her forehead, then twisted it around his finger. “I want to. But I can’t give anything more than… this right now.” He sighed. “Perhaps ever.”
“And I’m going back to London in three weeks.” She couldn’t meet his eyes as disappointment thundered through her chest. “So while I’m here we can be… lovers?”
