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Chapter 4: Lilah
Ben picks me up and puts me on the bar, stepping between my thighs as he kisses me, hard and full of need. His hands grip my hips as he drops down in front of me, biting and kissing the inside of my thigh. Throwing my head back on a moan, I’m distracted by the sound of a leaf blower. I try to block it out and focus on Ben talking dirty to me with his Texas twang, but the guy with the leaf blower walks right into the bar.
"Excuse me, do you mind?" I shout over the ruckus. Ben buries his head between my legs, ignoring the guy with the leaf blower. But now I’ve lost my concentration and no matter what kind of oral wizardry is going on downtown, I can’t come when I’m distracted.
"Hey!" I shout. "Get out of here!"
Somehow the leaf blower gets even louder, and I start awake, jackknifing in my bed. Blearily I look around to find there’s no bar, no Ben, and a heartbreaking lack of super-dirty foreplay. You know what I do hear? A goddamn lawnmower right outside my window. Checking the time on my phone, I growl. 8:45 on a Saturday morning. Someone’s about to get it.
Getting out of bed, I dig through a box labeled "closet" and try to find my robe and some shoes. All I can find is an oversized hoodie and the Tweety Bird slippers Asher gave me for Christmas. Whatever. I can be a badass even in cartoon slippers. My new next-door neighbor is an asshole and I don’t care if I’ve never met them before, they’re going to get a piece of my mind.
Making my way through the maze of boxes to the front door, I practice my speech. I’m almost positive we have county-mandated quiet hours that my douche canoe of a neighbor is violating. I nearly trip over Frankie, my tortoise, in the front entryway. I seriously don’t know how she keeps getting out of her cage. I really need to set up some kind of escape-proof box for her this week.
Scooping up Frankie, I carry her outside with me, holding her close to keep the chill off her. March seems to be crawling by, colder and wetter than most years. Dew soaks my slippers the second I step onto my lawn. Dual Tweety Bird heads flop wetly as I stomp across my yard. I try to ignore the fact that my yard could use a little love, but my overgrown oak tree has strewn sticks everywhere that I have to avoid.
The Valley Oak really is a monster of a tree, lording over the entire front of my property. The previous owners planted a little garden in front of the porch with lots of succulents and drought-resistant greenery. They reassured me over and over that the tough little plants need little attention, but I'm terrible at gardening. I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever been responsible for. Little purple flowers are blooming on a row of bushes and I silently apologize to them, both for the fate which they cannot escape and for the ass-chewing they are about to witness.
I eye the guy mowing. Even with his back to me, he’s an impressive sight. He’s wearing a torso-hugging Henley, muscles flexing everywhere I look and, god help me, I can’t stop looking. His body looks like someone carved it out of marble and breathed life into it. He’s huge. Crazy tall and just... thick all over. He turns the mower back towards me and I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open as I watch him get closer.
It’s Ben.
Ben from the bar.
The same Ben who was just starring in my super-dirty dream like four minutes ago.
Oh no. Jesus, god in heaven.
I should just turn around and run back inside before he sees me in all of my rumpled, soggy, Tweety-Bird-slippered glory. I just have to stop watching him, which is a lot harder than it sounds. Maybe I can duck behind those bushes?!
Too late.
Ben looks up, and we make eye contact. The engine on the mower cuts out and the sudden silence is deafening. There’s a rogue blade of grass on his cheek. He brushes it away and straightens his glasses. And oh god, I really like those glasses. His curly hair is rumpled, falling in his face as he scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. He looks around like he’s trying to figure out where I came from.
"Lilah? What are you doing here?" Even as he asks, his mouth pulls up at one side in a crooked grin.
"I just moved in yesterday," I blurt out as Ben steps close enough that I can see the shots of gold that run through his brown eyes. Holy mother of god. He was handsome in the dim atmosphere of the bar, but in broad daylight? This man is a god. And his voice! I wish I could just roll around in that Southern accent. People shouldn't be this pretty outside of magazines. I have to make a conscious effort not to melt into a puddle of goo at his feet.
Ben cocks his eyebrow at Frankie, who is making the world's slowest bid for freedom and snapping his jaw in Ben's direction.
"Nice attack turtle," Ben says with a smile.
"She's a tortoise, not a turtle," I say, defending my pet.
"Cute," Ben says. I think he's still talking about Frankie, but he's looking straight into my eyes and there's something hungry about his gaze. I'm suddenly aware of how close he's standing. When did he get so close? And why does he have to smell so good? He is... intoxicating. I just want to lean in and sniff him.
"I haven't seen a tortoise in years. What's her name?" Ben says as he reaches out to touch Frankie's shell, brushing his fingers over mine.
"Frankie," I murmur. His hands are so big they make mine look almost childlike. It makes me wonder what those big warm hands would feel like on other parts of my body. I really wouldn't mind snuggling into his chest. He looks like he gives amazing hugs. Hugs could be platonic, right? I guess it wouldn't be platonic if he had his shirt off. And it definitely wouldn't be platonic for very long if he ran those hands up and down my body...
Ben is looking at me like he's waiting for a response and I realize that I've been standing here like an idiot staring at his chest, thinking dirty, sexy things about him for way too long. He is so, so far out of my league.
"Sorry, I spaced. What did you say?" I shake my head and pray I'm not blushing.
"Since you're already up, how about that brunch?" Ben repeats himself with a winning smile.
"I... I..."
I what?! I want to have brunch? I want to have your babies? I want to climb you like the majestic man-tree you are? If my lady taco was in charge she'd be screaming "Yes, Yes, YES!" right about now. Why can't I just drag him inside and have my way with him?
