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I turn to walk away, reaching to my back pocket to be sure my phone is still there. But Ben stops me by gently wrapping his fingers around my wrist and turning me back around. He takes the coffee from my grip and sets it aside on the desk.
My heart starts hammering inside my chest as he tugs me close to him, fisting the back of my hair and sending shivers down the length of my body. His gaze drops to my lips and my hands suddenly don’t know what to do, where to go, so they fall to his thighs as he plants his mouth on mine.
The room seems to spin as he kisses me. It’s soft at first, like a sweet …goodbye, I’ll see ya later.
But that softness turns hungrier, more aggressive, as his tongue slides past my lips. As if to say …you’re not going any damn where.
He tastes like sugar and coffee, and something else delicious. I remind myself to breathe as dizziness consumes me and heat grows inside of me, between my legs. My nails dig into his muscled quads and all I want is to feel every inch of him on every inch of me.
This.
This is what a kiss should feel like. My god, is this what I’ve been missing?
I lean into the kiss, into him, palms sliding up the length of his legs and moving towards his hips.
His fist grows tighter in my hair and he releases a deep groan. And when he tugs my hair enough to break the seal his lips have on mine, I’m panting. Lips swollen, heart pounding, cheeks hotter than they’ve ever been.
His eyes search mine and I momentarily fear what he might see. The truth that’s hidden there. The real me. The girl with the fucked up past who lost her innocence to a group of men. I don’t know why it’s so important that he sees me as pure. Even if I were a virgin, I’d be anything but pure.
“Okay,” he croaks out.
“Okay?” I breathe out, already missing his mouth.
“I just needed to know if there was any tangible chemistry before I let you walk away.”
I gulp, staring at his lips and wishing he’d kiss me again. “And?”
His forehead lifts as he glances at me like he’s had some sort of revelation. “Kinda want to lock the door and bend you over my desk, kinda want to kidnap you and take you home with me.”
My mouth stretches into a smile and I clutch his shirt in my fingers. “I’ve cast my spell on you. Look out.”
“That you did. Are you really twenty-one?”
I nod. “You?”
“Thirty-two. Kids?”
“No. No kids.”
His mouth is on mine again and we tumble into another kiss that leaves me heady.
Hands start to wander—his down the length of my back. And mine? I don’t know where they’re going. I’m completely drunk on lust. But then his phone rings so loud it nearly gives me a heart attack.
“Shit,” he mutters, spinning his body around to look while keeping his fingers pressed to the small of my back. “Fifteen-thousand-dollar call. I gotta take this.”
I step back and let him answer, pulling my hair over my shoulders and fingering out a few knots. I float my gaze around the room while Ben talks, throwing around a bunch of construction terms. There’s a tall bookcase next to his desk, each shelf holding a variety of hardbacks and soft cover mysteries. In between two John Le Carré books is a gold-trimmed dual picture frame. I step a little closer to it. Frenchie is kneeling with two young boys. One of them is Danny, and the other I assume is Ethan. The photograph next to it holds a boy who looks to be about eight or nine gripping a baseball bat and staring angrily into the camera. With blond hair and blue eyes, he only bears a mild resemblance to Ben. But the pissed-off scowl looks familiar. I hold back a smile, thinking it must be Mason.
There’s a pause in Ben’s conversation and when I look his way, he’s pointing his eyes at me. Feeling as though I’m tapdancing around a private affair, I turn from the shelf as he ends the call.
“I see you have a book fetish,” I joke, hoping he buys that I was only looking at the books.
“They were my dad’s. And yeah, he read a lot.”
“My dad does too. When he has time.”
Grabbing his keys off the desk and sliding them in his pocket, Ben pulls in a deep breath and gives me a weary look. “I gotta take off and check on a bid.”
“I better go too. I’m getting a late start on my own work.”
