He coils an arm around me and sits us up, our chests pressed together. Skin on skin at last. I’m straddling his lap, knees bent and bracing him on either side. I grab the back of the couch and my arms cage him in.
“Got you right where I want you.” I’m so turned on, I’m practically slurring.
He slides me forward until the heavy jut of his erection presses against my groin.
“No,nowyou’re where I want you.”
I shiver and moan and attack him with renewed energy. I kiss down his throat, across his shoulder, along his pectoral. He doesn’t want to let me—he keeps trying to pull me upright—but I persevere. I wiggle my butt in his lap, grinding against him. If his ragged breathing is any indicator, I might be killing him.
“It’s my turn,” he says on a groan, his voice hoarse.
I try to respectfully decline but he ignores me, using his superior strength—not really fair—to drag me back up. He repositions me on his lap, gripping my hips while he places a series of wet, swirling kisses on the swell of my breasts. When his eyes flick up to mine, I nearly slither off his lap. It’s the single most erotic experience of my life—and I’m still half-clothed.
He migrates across my chest with agonizing slowness, focusing first on one breast, then on the other, giving each equal time. I’m about to commend his commitment to fairness—if I can form words—when he slips a finger underneath my bra strap. I suck in a breath. He toys with the lace, pinching the elastic between his fingers, gliding his hand up and down the strap. He can see the effect he’s having on me; I’m coming undone. He smiles and lingers at my shoulder, teasing me.Torturingme. Finally he slides it off, leaving it dangling over my arm, and presses a soft kiss to my collarbone.
His other hand’s been resting on my ass, and he slides it into my jeans between the denim and my underwear and squeezes. I buck against him, his hardness and our combined friction nearly driving me to madness. I want more. Ineedmore.
I’m burning up, our bodies heated and glazed with sweat. These jeans are restricting my movement and I need themoff. I’msimultaneously fumbling with my zipper and wondering how we can teleport to his bedroom when the sudden blare of loud voices jars me out of my lust fog and I nearly fall off his lap. Ben’s TV has somehow switched on, and the brash male host of this particular news show is currently shouting down his female guest.
“The current welfare system incentivizes people not to work. The president has every right to make changes and it’s long overdue.”
“I know that’s a favorite talking point of conservatives, Spencer, but the president can’t just unilaterally decide to cut the welfare budget by half. That’s a radical move that will leave the most vulnerable Americans out of options. We’re talking single parents, low-income families, the disabled. There are forty million people on food assistance programs. These aren’t just numbers. These are kids who won’t be able to eat.”
“Shit,” Ben mutters, fumbling in the couch cushions to find the remote.
“Enacting basic work requirements to get welfare benefits isn’t aradicalidea. Having to pass a drug test isn’t aradicalidea. I’d like to remind you that Democrats are the ones who said, ‘Welfare should be a second chance, not a way of life.’ The point here is to separate the needy from the greedy. These people have been freeloading for—”
The screen goes black midsentence and the room lapses into silence. My heart is racing, as much from lust as from fright, but now there’s something else: foreboding.
“Sorry about that,” Ben murmurs, sliding me back onto his lap. I feel vaguely out of body as he replaces his mouth on my neck, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to lose myself again in the feel of his lips on my skin.
You’re hooking up with the enemy.
The thought materializes unbidden and I nearly gasp. My eyes pop open and I glance at Ben, but his face is buried in my cleavage. He’spulled my other bra strap down and in about two seconds, it will be off altogether. I start to panic, unpleasant thoughts and questions ricocheting in my head, so loud I can’t ignore them.
Nothing’s changed here. He’s still for everything you’re against.
How exactly will this relationship work? What will you talk about over dinner? Certainly not about what you did all day.
He wants to turn you. That’s what tonight’s been all about.
Just because your bodies are compatible doesn’t mean this is a good idea.
Ben hums against my chest and all I can think is,I just want my piece of chocolate. Please, just let me have my mother-fudging piece of chocolate!
His fingers dip into my waistband.
This is never going to work.
I pull back, pressing a hand to his chest. “Wait. I’m sorry. Time out.” I climb off him and curl into a ball beside him, hugging my knees.
“What’s wrong?”
I brave a glance at him. It’s a mistake. He isglorious. An Adonis. Skin flushed. Lurid, raging bedroom eyes. Hair a hot mess, ruffled and wild and sexy as hell. Even sitting, the most universally unflattering position for all mortals, his abs stay flat and firm with nary a belly roll in sight. Am I seriously pumping the brakes on this? I’ve officially lost my marbles.
I bury my face in my hands. “I have no idea how to verbalize what’s going through my head. It’s going to come out all wrong.”
He reaches out and clasps my hand. “Hey. Just tell me.”
