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He opened up a shared folder and double-clicked on a file that was named Hose Kings. I choked out a laugh. If it weren’t made with the sole intent of getting people off, porn would most definitely be filed in the comedy section.
“You don’t get uncomfortable watching this? Considering you’re…”
“Straight?” The scene started, a rhythmic mix of drum and bass. The one thing I liked about White Lace Productions, there wasn’t cheesy porn music. It was like they hired a faux David Guetta to create original tracks for their scenes. Which I appreciated. It definitely helped with the mood.
“Honestly, I only pay attention to make sure it’s technically sound. Otherwise, I’m not really paying attention to what’s going on between the actors.”
I sat on the desk, turning slightly to get a good view of the screen, and my knee bumped into his leg. Now that I was so close, I smelled him—spearmint and aftershave. A deadly combination to my senses.
We watched the scene unfold. Two men in the bunk area of a fire station. Useless conversation took place. Admittedly, I only had one eye on the screen because I couldn’t stop looking at Ben, because he couldn’t stop looking at me.
He’d been right. He didn’t pay attention, but I wasn’t convinced that it was the type of porn on the screen that had his attention diverted.
There was nakedness now; abs, beautiful chest hair, smooth shoulders and backs, and…holy shit, cocks the size of broomsticks.
I felt a blush creep up my neck to my cheeks. Ben leaned back, his chair reclining at the perfect angle for him to place his hands behind his head. And he just watched me.
It wasn’t the porn that caused my body to heat, the tingle rising up my body, stopping for a few minutes between my legs before it made its way to thump inside my chest. No, it was Ben’s intense stare.
Oh, God. I needed an orgasm so badly. I needed to have sex and feel the weight of a man on top of me. To feel the push and pull of a cock between my legs. I’d give anything for that man to be Ben. A repeat performance had not been on my to-do list—my wish list, definitely, but not something I needed to do in order to solidify my future.
Besides, I had promised myself I wouldn’t chase him. I had promised myself I wouldn’t let him in again.
I turned a little on the desk, and his eyes immediately focused between my legs. I knew without even looking that he could see up my dress.
His shoulders stiffened, and I saw gooseflesh break out across his arms. “Grace…” He croaked out my name. It was the sexiest sound I’d ever heard. Needy. Dangerous.
And right now, I couldn’t fight the urge to be very, very bad.
I leaned forward, my hands roaming the hard expanse of his chest, embracing the way my girl parts reacted to him. I slipped off the desk, crowding him, lowering my mouth to his ear. But I barely had a chance to settle. He jumped out of the chair, getting as far away from me as possible.
Frustration bubbled inside me. He sure knew how to make a girl feel wanted. “What the fuck, Ben.”
“I said it wasn’t a good idea.” He paced on the opposite side of the desk, his hands fisting at his sides. His brain might be telling him to resist, but his body was telling me he wanted this. His cock was noticeably hard inside his pants.
“What’s the big deal? We’ve already done it. What’s one more time?”
One more. Ten more. No big deal. I simply needed sex.
Keep telling yourself that.
“I just can’t.” He spat out the words as if they were poison on his tongue. “Not with you.”
“So you’d rather fuck some random porn star wannabe or stranger in a bar than—”
“It’s not because I don’t want to. It’s just…I can’t because…” His words trailed off and he blew out a hard breath before gripping the shiny strands of his blond hair in his fist. “Because I’m celibate.”
Was it cold in here? Had hell suddenly frozen over?
“I’m sorry?” Those words had definitely worked to cool down some of my raging hormones. “I don’t think I heard that correctly.”
“You did.” His eyes lowered to the floor. “I haven’t had sex since I took over as vice president.”
I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it because it just couldn’t be true.
Ben Lockwood, manwhore extraordinaire, was…celibate?
But my laughter quickly turned to an anger-fueled need to flee. After all this time, he still couldn’t give me the courtesy of telling the truth.
