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His moan feeds me and I kiss him harder, tasting and taking and still wanting.
He grips my hips and guides me back and forth on his lap, slowly rocking forward and backward, driving us both insane. His hands squeeze my backside and he inhales sharply. Then he draws back suddenly, dragging in a heavy breath, steeling himself as his brown eyes open and his gaze meets mine.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, standing and setting me delicately back on my feet.
I must look like a gaping fish.
“I thought we were…”
He rubs the back of his neck, and there’s an unfamiliar touch of color on his cheekbones. “It’s been a long night for you, Birdie.”
I want to argue, but then he reaches up to smooth the tension between my brows, dragging his finger down my cheek, and my eyelids blink long and heavy. The desire coursing through me doesn’t have the staying power compared to how exhausted I feel. The anxiety of the day takes its toll as Ben stands there, appreciating me.
“I could sleep where I stand, but I feel grimy from that club.”
“Let me draw you a bath,” he suggests with tender care.
“It’s okay. I’ll just take a quick shower. I worry I’ll fall asleep if I take a bath.”
He nods and leads me into the bathroom off the main suite. It’s decadent and peaceful, cool white marble floors paired with warm oak vanities. The shower could fit three or four people. Same with the bath. Ben adjusts the hot water for me in the shower then walks back over to his side of the sink so he can bend down and open the cabinet to reach for a small bag.
When he walks back over and hands it to me, I realize it’s a bag of toiletries meant for a woman, and despite knowing the kind of man Ben is, I still wonder why he’d keep something like this around. Is there a rotation of women needing to wash their face at his house?
I don’t ask this aloud, but Ben still throws me a bone.
“My housekeeper, Nina, thinks of everything. I think she hopes…”
He clears his throat.
I look up to see him frowning at the bag in my hand.
“She wants someone to have to use it,” he finishes, sounding annoyed. “She pesters me about being alone.”
“And I’m the first?”
He looks over, and his brown eyes seem just as alluring as the first time I met him. “There hasn’t been anyone since I left Texas.”
His confession strikes me. It’s the last thing I expected. I was at the club tonight; I saw the way women react to Ben. The glamour of this life is so appealing to so many. I’m surprised he’d go a single day without sex, much less a year and a half.
“Because you’ve been busy?”
He nods. “With Caleb, with basketball, yes.”
Understandable.
“And also, I wasn’t interested in pursuing other women.”
I try and fail to hold eye contact with him. The kisses we just shared were intimate, yes, but this feels different…harder.
He sighs with his confession, like it took a great deal of courage to admit, and then he turns to leave the bathroom. “Shower, relax. Please take whatever you’d like from my closet when you’re finished.”
I nod mutely as he leaves, and only after I’m sure the double set of doors that lead out are securely closed, I turn to the mirror.
I don’t look like myself. Slightly more pale than normal, small, hunched forward with my arm wrapped around my middle. I look tired and meek. No wonder he’s treating me like I’m fragile.
I undress and carefully fold my clothes in case I need them in the morning, then I step into the shower and luxuriate in every single one of Ben’s expensive soaps and shampoos. The shower I share in the house back at Caltech has the water pressure of a dripping hose, and I can’t use nice soap because, for one, I can’t afford it, and for two, if I did splurge, everyone else would pilfer it.
I stay in there forever, turning in slow circles, feeling the warm water beat down on my skin. Eventually, I cut it off, worrying Ben might come in to check on me since I’m taking so long.
I wrap myself in a fluffy white towel and pad over to the nearest closet. It’s nearly empty inside, save for some storage boxes at the very top, on shelves completely out of my reach. I realize it’s the closet Ben’s wife will use one day, and that thought makes my heart pound as I quickly back out and close the door behind me. Across the bathroom, in Ben’s closet, I find a pair of boxer briefs and an old college basketball t-shirt that’s been washed so many times it’s decadently soft.
The boxer briefs are comically big even when I roll them twice, but they’ll have to do. The t-shirt is large as well, enough so that I don’t have to worry about the fact that I’m not wearing a bra.
