He looks at the cup, confused. “Did I?”
I lift it up and nod. “Yes, really.”
He goes to take it back, right as I’m about to take a sip, and he ends up pushing the entire cup of water down my body.
I yelp, jumping back from the coldness. “Oh my god.”
“Shit, Lucy. I’m so sorry.” He starts panicking, looking around the kitchen for something to clean me up with. The front of my shirt is soaked. It’s soaking into my pants. The cold water is still a shock to my system.
Benson rushes over with the kitchen rag and starts patting the front of my shirt. It’s soaked, so I pull it over my head without thinking, and then I let it fall. He pauses. I steal the rag from him and pat myself dry.
When I dry myself, I realize that I’m standing in my bra in front of Benson Reeve, and he is staring at me like he’s never seen a woman in a bra before.
“Shit,” I shout, scrambling to cover myself up.
Benson reaches for me, but he doesn’t touch me. “It’s okay, Lucy.”
I turn on my heel to run away, but he grabs my elbow and says, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
When I look up at him, he pushes my wet hair behind my shoulder and looks down. I watch his eyes darken as he glances down. His hand rests behind my neck, and then his eyes are searching mine.
“How drunk are you?” he whispers.
I shake my head, feeling his Camdenth tickle my face. This close to him, and I’ve lost memory of who I am and where I’m at. He’s beautiful and so tall. His hand feels rough against my skin. I feel myself leaning into his touch.
“Lucy,” he says, licking his lips. I track the motion. “What would you do if I kissed you right now?”
“Benson,” I whisper, losing my balance at his words. I lean completely against him, wondering how the hell we’ve gotten this close. Then I remember I’m soaking wet and shirtless.
He looks down at my lips. “Lucy,” he whispers back. “I want to kiss you so bad.”
I look at his mouth and wonder what it would feel like to have his lips on me. I feel dizzy, but through the haze, I see his beautiful face and want so badly for him to kiss me.
“Will you kiss me?” he murmurs with his mouth against mine.
I nod, closing my eyes. His lips touch mine, and I melt into him. Not like a popsicle on a sunny day, more like a plastic bag in a microwave. I completely crumble, never experiencing a kiss like this in my life. His thumb is by my jaw and the rest of his fingers are in my hair at the base of my skull. The kiss starts careful — closed mouth, soft, asking — and then there is a small sharp inhale from one of us, and then it isn’t careful.
I take a fistful of the front of his hoodie. The fabric is cold. He’s warm under it. He tastes like the beer he was drinking and underneath that like him. He kisses me like he has been thinking about this, and I don’t want him to stop.
He pulls back first. His forehead rests against mine. His thumb is still under my jaw. We are both Camdenthing harder than we were a minute ago.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
I agree. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Neither of us moves.
“Benson,” I whisper, not knowing how to handle my galloping heart.
“I’m sorry,” he says, taking a step back. He wipes his mouth. “Shit. I’m sorry, Lucy.”
I touch my lips, feeling his mouth lingering on mine.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says again, but he’s staring right at me. “But––” He looks at me and then at my lips.
My throat closes when I recognize that look.
He shakes his head. “Fuck.” He takes a step back. “I shouldn’t.” He stares at the ground for a moment. “Don’t forget to text Gianna that you made it back.”
