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Angelina deflated, melting into his arms. Ben was in her bed. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her heart rate. Relief was replaced with rage. Ben was in bed with her. One sultry picture, and he came running back. Bastard.
Nope, not an option. Not this lifetime and not in the next or the one after that. If he thought he could fall right back into her bed with a welcome home party invite from between her legs, he was sadly mistaken.
In reality, he did, but that wasn’t the point. She wasn’t awake to tell him no. They weren’t a them. They were nothing. Nothing certainly didn’t sleep in the same bed with his morning wood against her ass. That thing should be aimed at his wife.
Angelina’s heart stalled in her chest when she rolled over to get her first look at him after two weeks. His eyes were closed. His breathing had evened out as he slept. The dark circles under his eyes looked closer to bruises than tired spots. There was a gash along his hairline that had been stitched back together. His jaw was covered with stubble, and he was filthy. Wherever he had gone had not been kind to him.
If he ran to another woman, she made his life miserable. A little piece of her was happy he looked like crap. Okay, so maybe it was more than a little piece of her. Ben deserved whatever she dished out. Angelina wondered if she could meet the other women. One of them had to be better than Jenna. She should rethink starting a club. Survivor Ben Edition, minus the pregnant wife.
She had to get out of bed. She couldn’t be a member of the survivor club if she got caught in bed with wet panties letting him hold her while he slept. Even if it did feel like home because she fit perfectly against him, she couldn’t stay. She wasn’t his. He lied. Angelina couldn’t let one spectacular erection or the feeling of being complete sway her. He gave those feelings to a lot of people. She wasn’t special. She was just one of the names on the phone tree.
Carefully trying to untuck his arm was useless. Ben’s fingers were laced together. Angelina traced her fingers over his. Deep in sleep, he still wanted to touch her. A satisfied smile crossed her face before she remembered she was mad. If she was going to be a survivor, she had to get herself untangled. Moving her fingers over his, she curled them like she was petting the soft fur of an animal. Ben hummed, interlacing his fingers in hers, holding her hand.
It was a victory—a small one, but a victory nonetheless. Scooting a little at a time, Angelina made it to the side of the mattress. His fingers held hers, and his body unconsciously followed her. If she kept going like this, they would both end up on the floor.
Ben tugged her closer. He buried his nose in her hair and took a deep breath. “Love,” he mumbled, still asleep.
Angelina’s mind went berserk. Love. Did he call her another woman’s nickname? Did he give them all a name? Is that how they were listed in his phone? He called her love. Did he forget he went poof and disappeared for two weeks?
The alarm blared its second warning. Ben released her when she reached for her phone. It was the only chance she was going to get.
Angelina managed to keep her face from meeting the floor when she slid less-than-gracefully from her bed. The rest of her body fell with a thud. Bouncing off the floor wasn’t part of the plan, but she was out of bed. She crouched quickly and froze when Ben rolled onto his back.
Angelina allowed herself to look at him as he settled closer to her side of the bed. His chest was bruised. Deep large bruises that were new. The dark colors spread over the center of his chest, almost reaching his shoulders. A dirty, bloodstained bandage wrapped around his arm. Tears pooled at the corner of her eyes. No man deserved that. If one of his women did that, it was no wonder Ben talked to her like he did.
From where she crouched, Angelina snapped a picture of Ben. It was time for a second opinion. When he showed up in this condition, it changed things. Jake wouldn’t be too happy about being woken up this early on a Sunday morning. He would get over it.
Shower, coffee, and then she would text Jake. By the looks, Ben would sleep through it. She silently snatched clothes from her closet and some of the new things she bought yesterday before Angelina headed for the shower. She didn’t want to wake him. Choosing Ben’s bathroom gave her distance to muffle the sound and get her thoughts together.
He was still asleep when she tip-toed down the stairs. On a whim, she checked the driveway for the motor home. It was nowhere in sight. She supposed one out of two wasn’t bad.
Angelina set the coffee pot to brew extra strong. She had a feeling she was going to need it. Sitting at the island, she waited for the magic to happen. With a few taps on her phone, the picture went to Jake while she waited.
Jake: Did you do that? No judgment just wanted to prepare your defense.
Angelina: I woke up to him in my bed this morning.
Jake: So……….. is he alive?
Angelina: When I got in the shower, he was breathing.
Jake: Where was he?
Angelina: No idea.
Jake: Huh. Very interesting.
Angelina: He looks like he has been through more than just a pissed-off woman beat down. Do you think she did that to him?
Jake: Max says it isn’t from a woman, and I agree.
Angelina: Advice? Suggestions?
Jake: We say listen to what he has to say.
Angelina: Super helpful this morning, aren’t you?
Jake: My man took one look at the picture and told me we were both wrong. He hasn’t opened his mouth since.
