Page 30 of Mowed Over


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Chapter 19: Ben

Even as the words leave my mouth, the entire lower half of my body screams in frustration. I'd have given almost anything to keep going. To let her take off my pants and wrap her hands around my cock. To pull that dress over her head and carry her ass to the bedroom.

But more than anything, I don't want this to be a one-time thing. I still don't understand what draws me to her so strongly, but I've never felt anything like it before and I'm damn sure going to do everything in my power to ensure I get to keep it. I genuinely want to get to know Lilah and if that means I have to give myself a case of blue balls, then so be it.

Lilah gets plates out of the cabinet and puts a whole chicken on a serving dish while I set the side dishes on the table. She directs me to a bottle of white wine in the fridge and I open it, pouring two glasses. I'm more of a beer guy, but you can't live in Sonoma without picking up a passing appreciation for a good chardonnay. Just don't tell my dad.

I pull Lilah's chair out for her and wait for her to sit down. My mother (figuratively) beat good manners into me, and she'd be appalled if I did any less. Lilah squints at me as I push her seat in, like she can't figure me out.

"Something wrong?" I ask her with a grin as I sit down next to her instead of across the table where she put my plate. I pull it over in front of me and let her pile food on it for me.

"Nope. I'm just trying to figure you out. You go from dirty talk to Southern gentleman in, like, the blink of an eye. You know that, right?"

She should hear my inner dialogue, it's still dirty talking her. It's also dirty talking her cooking skills. I try not to moan out loud when I bite into the chicken on my plate, but I can't stop myself once I hit the pasta.

"Hungry?" she teases.

"Always. But this is the best meal I've ever had."

Lilah blushes but takes the compliment. A trait I already love in her.

"So, what do you do?" she asks, breaking the silence. "I know you said you work from home."

"Cyber security," I tell her after a beat of hesitation. That's only a part of what I do, and it feels wrong to leave out the rest, even if it's still too soon to tell her about it. Lilah's eyes narrow as if cataloging my hesitation.

"What does that entail, exactly?"

"I test online systems for weaknesses. Mostly I find backdoors that other programmers might have left behind, or holes in security that someone else was too lazy to fix. Occasionally, I run phishing simulations for large corporations so they can identify employees that might be weak links. Once in a while I get to track down leaks and corporate spies. Those are the fun ones."

"Not to be pushy, but how do you get into that kind of work?"

"Do you want the nice version or the real version?" I ask her.

Lilah purses those pink lips at me like she can't believe I'd even ask.

"The real one, huh?" I sigh dramatically. "First, you have to understand that I was a reckless kid. I crashed my bike so many times my dad couldn't fix it anymore. I jumped off the town bridge into the river on a dare and got into fights with kids twice my size. Pre-growth spurt, obviously."

Lilah's lips twitch up in a smile, like she's imagining a scrappy little version of me. She's so magnetic, I just want to tell her everything, including the parts I can't.

"My dad started teaching me to code when I was nine, mostly as a way to keep me out of trouble. I took to it like a duck takes to water. I'm dyslexic, so reading and writing were hard for me. But as it turns out, my brain works a lot like a computer. I built my first computer when I was 10, started building webpages, even worked on a video game for a while. But eventually I got bored and went looking for more exciting things to do..."

She's watching me with so much quiet curiosity and despite my hesitation she gives me a little nod, raising her eyebrows as if to say, "Go on."

I clear my throat. "Well, I hacked the FBI when I was 17. It was stupid and impulsive... and I got caught. Six FBI agents showed up in tactical gear within the hour. They broke down the front door and scared the shit out of my sister and parents. God, my mom was so pissed."

"Did they arrest you?" Lilah has both elbows propped on the table, chin in her hands as she listens intently.

"Nope. They gave me a deal. They put me in a training program, and I had to work for them for five years. In exchange, I didn't have to go to Federal prison. I did my five years, buried my head in my work, and when it was over, I left to pursue work in the private sector." And help my sister pick up the pieces of her broken life, though I don't say that out loud.

I don't know what reaction I was expecting from her, but laughter isn't it. She chuckles softly with a look that I can only identify as relief.

"Why are you laughing?" I ask.

She looks up at me with her big green eyes. "Because you might be the first person I've ever met with a childhood more dramatic than mine. I mean, my brother Lukas got into a few scrapes with the law and we had a messed-up childhood but none of us hacked the FBI and lived to tell about it."

Lilah takes a deep breath in and holds it for a second before making her mind up about something and exhaling. "In the interest of honesty, my Gran raised me and my siblings. Mom and grandpa died in a car accident and my dad decided he didn't want to deal with five kids on his own, so he dropped us off with Gran and never came back."

"Jesus Christ."

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