by Arthurs, Nia
“I was just wondering. I’m suddenly really curious to find out what you’d write. Romance, maybe?”
“Thrillers.” He arched an eyebrow. “Really bloody, really gritty thrillers.”
“Ah.”
“My mom used to love the Investigation Discovery channel.”
Carrie scrunched her nose.
Benson grinned. “It’s the one that airs documentaries about murders and kidnappings.”
“Wow. Exactly how old were you when you started watching those?”
“I don’t know. Maybe nine or ten.”
“No wonder you’re so screwed up,” she mumbled.
He shot her an eye. “Watch it. I’ll burn your waffles.”
“Oh, the horror.”
He chuckled. “After my dream of being a pilot fell through, I wanted to be a police officer.”
“What happened?”
“I fainted at the sight of a needle and a little bit of blood. Pretty much ended that dream.”
Carrie laughed into her hand. “Oy.”
“But I still love the idea of good guy versus bad guy. Of a broken hero and a cunning villain. I’m grateful nothing so brutal has happened in my own life, but I can’t get the stories out of my head.”
“When you do start writing, I want to be the first to read it.”
“Really?”
She put a hand to her chest and gasped in offense. “I’m no bimbo. My parents made sure I read everyday. No fiction. Just textbooks and autobiographies.”
“I’d never have guessed.”
She grabbed the kitchen towel and tossed it at him.
Benson caught it easily. “The more I hear of your parents, the cooler they seem.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, they were okay. Now that I’m older, I can appreciate what they were trying to teach me. But I still love makeup and extensions. Like right now.” She feathered her hair. “I feel naked without my weave.”
Benson’s eyes shifted to her head. “What do you mean?”
“Can’t you tell?” She picked at the mass of shrinkage that she’d locked into a bun. “I’m between weaves right now so I’m letting my hair breathe until my next appointment at the salon.”
“You’re kidding.” Benson abandoned the waffles and strode closer to her.
“Didn’t you notice? Are you serious?”
“You look stunning to me whether your hair is long or short.” He stopped right in front of her chair, the solid breadth of his chest filling her sight. He smelled like soap, clean and fresh.
Carrie took a deep breath.
When she opened her eyes, she found Benson smiling down at her. Her pulse sped up. She hurried to hide the expression, but it was too late.
Benson smoothly pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She frowned. “What was that for?”
“Just because.” He returned to the counter and placed a waffle in her plate. Pushing it and a bottle of syrup toward her, Benson leaned his elbow on the counter. “Eat up.”
Feeling caught, Carrie focused on dunking every square with a perfect drop of syrup and digging in. Soon, Benson joined her and they spent the morning talking, laughing and lightly flirting with each other.
Carrie was immensely glad they hadn’t given… this… a label. In her quieter moments, Benson almost felt like a friend. If she wanted to jump her friends’ bones, that is.
Carrie was almost certain that if they slept together a few times, she could get him out of her system. Until then… she wouldn’t rest until she’d gotten what she wanted.
A few hours later, Benson escorted her to her car and held the door open for her. “What are you doing on your day off tomorrow?”
If all goes to plan? You. “Why?”
He gripped the door with one hand and leaned in. “I was heading to the dojo to practice. It’s not a tournament, but I could teach you a few moves. If you’re interested.”
Carrie weighed the offer in her mind. Benson was trying to charm her, but then again… she’d always wanted to learn how to fight. Finally, she nodded. “But it’s not a date.”
“Right. Not a date.”
“It’s just a free lesson.”
“Mm-hm.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Then we can come back to your place and… Netflix and chill?”
“As soon as you give me what I want.” He closed the door on her.
“It was worth a try.”
Benson gave her a roguish grin and watched as she backed out of his driveway.
So her plan to swim in a skimpy bathing suit and rock his world hadn’t gone quite to plan, but the day wasn’t over yet. There was always tonight.
* * *
Carrie showed up at Hidden Reef that night dressed to kill in a tight blue jersey dress and heels. She was feeling pretty confident about her plans to seduce Benson sometime during the night.
Should be easy enough as long as she didn’t give him a moment to catch his breath.
“Now where is he?” Carrie murmured, her gaze skimming the club. She spotted Benson standing by the bar, his head tilted and a finger pointed toward a menu.
“Yoo-hoo!” a voice rang out.
Carrie stiffened, her eyes moving from where Benson looked all hot and hunky, to the door where Sky, Jo, Sun Gi and Joon stumbled in.
Carrie cringed and lowered her head. “Oh, Lord. Please no…”
Sky trotted toward her, high heels clipping against the wooden floors. Her short brown curls had been pinned back at the sides and her lipstick matched her red dress. “Hey, girl!”
Carrie waved in shock. “What are you doing here?”
“We wanted to see you. And your new boo, of course.” Sky nudged her and winked. “Where is he?”
Carrie gestured to Sky’s boyfriend. “Excuse me, Joon Gi, would you please come and collect your woman before I have her thrown out.”
Joon Gi Kim strode toward her, one hand in his pocket. He was a tall man with striking good looks and dark brown eyes. “Babe,” Joon leaned close to Sky, “we talked about this. No more getting kicked out of clubs.”
“Wait. When did that happen?” Carrie blinked.
Jo sidled closer to Carrie. “And why didn’t anyone tell us?”
“Joon, you promised not to mention that,” Sky grumbled.
“I’m curious too,” Sun Gi said, slipping an arm around Jo’s waist and standing closely behind her.
“Another time. We all came here tonight to meet Benson.” Sky glanced around. “Is he here?”
Carrie was about to tell her friends that Benson had gotten food poisoning and hadn’t been able to make it when Jo jutted her chin forward. “He’s over there.”
“My goodness.” Sky sucked in a breath and then shot a look at her boyfriend. “I mean… he’s not all that. You’re ten times hotter, Babe.”
“I better be,” Joon mumbled, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Sky caught Carrie’s eye and mouthed, “He’s so hot.”
Carrie snickered. “Okay. Now that you’ve gotten what you came for, why don’t you all just shoo…”
“Benson!” Jo stood on the tips of her toes and hollered for the entire room to hear. “Hey, Benson!”
Benson looked up and caught sight of them. The moment his eyes landed on Carrie, his lips tugged upward in a sexy smirk and he strode over. That seductive gaze didn’t leave hers for a second.
Her heart pounded as she gave him an obvious once-over, starting at his lips and down to his sneakers. The way he filled out his plain black T-shirt and jeans… oof.
She felt off-balance, not quite herself. Benson had burrowed so deeply into her skin that she’d need to rectify the number of times she’d allow herself to hook up with him. It would take a lot of below-the-belt therapy before she felt like the old Carrie again.
It was all his fault. Benson had come so close to shattering her walls that she was barely holding it together. One more attack and she’d crumble.
Which was why she had to get him to crumble first.
“Jo and Sun Gi. It’s nice to see you again.” Benson dipped his head. Then he swung to Sky who couldn’t help the sloppy smile that grew on her face. Holding out a hand, Benson introduced himself and asked, “Your name?”
“Sky.”
“And I’m Joon.”
“My boyfriend,” Sky said.
“Nice to meet you.” Benson shook Joon’s hand too. “Any friend of Carrie’s is a friend of mine.”
“I’ve heard so much about you, Benson.” Sky said. “It feels like I know you.”
He arched an eyebrow in her direction. “I hope you’ve only heard good things.”
“Oh, very good things.”
Jo coughed.
Carrie buried her head in her hands. From now on, she was going to disown her Sweet Treats crew. She was officially out.
“You guys want a drink?” Benson asked, gesturing to Zeke.
A new song pounded through the room, causing the kids on the dance floor to scream in excitement.
“Oh, I love this one!” Sky bounced on her toes.
Jo squealed and sang the words, “Independent lady, hands in the air, pay my own way, me noh care…”
“Let’s dance.” Sky tugged on her arm.
Carrie resisted. “I’m working.”
“You can take a few minutes.” Benson nudged her in the back.
Sky hauled Joon forward with her other hand. “Babe, come on.”
The next thing she knew, Carrie was dragged into the madness. This close to the speakers, it felt like the bass had merged with her heart. She let the rhythm control her waist, laughing as she, Jo and Sky danced together.
Then the girls broke off to grind on their significant others. A guy Carrie didn’t know started thrusting his pelvis on her. He was short and stocky with a sloppy grin that made her stomach flop in distaste.
She turned away, hoping that Jo or Sky would notice and rescue her, but they were so into their partners they weren’t even looking at her.
Carrie spun the other way and locked eyes with Benson.
He grabbed her by the waist and drew her to him. Bending close, he whispered in her ear, “Dance with me.”
18
Benson hadn’t been the only one watching Carrie on the dance floor. A ripple of gazes had followed in the trio’s wake as they dove into the crowd and started moving. He doubted either of the girls had noticed.
The guys, on the other hand, made sure to stick close.
Benson wished he had the right to hover over Carrie. Keep the bastards back. Stake his claim like Joon and Sun Gi were doing to Sky and Jo.
But he didn’t.
So he’d sulked by the bar instead, watching from afar and feeling just as jealous as all the other punks in here who wished they could get so much as a wink from Carrie Lockwood.
The song changed.
Benson blinked, and saw Jo and Sky dancing away from Carrie. Another blink, and Carrie was by herself, unbothered by the solitude. She threw her arms high and grooved to the beat, eyes closed.
A bad feeling stirred in Benson’s chest.
She was way too fine to be dancing alone like that.
He started moving, planting one foot in front of the other before he’d even realized what he was doing. If Benson was this drawn to her, he could imagine the other guys on that dance floor.
He merged with the crowd, tossing people aside like sheaves of wheat.
Before he could get to Carrie, another guy approached and started grinding on her. Carrie spun and pushed the creep back.
Benson was closer now. So close, he could touch her.
Carrie glanced around, clearly searching for one of her friends to bail her out of an uncomfortable situation. Her eyes locked on his instead. Her jaw dropped.
A second passed.
Benson saw the creep watching. Without waiting for her permission, he planted his hands on Carrie’s waist and pulled her flush against him. Her body rocked and he yanked her closer in to steady her.
“Dance with me,” he whispered. But he wasn’t looking at Carrie. Instead, he stared down the creep, eyeing him hard until he blended back into the crowd to wine on some other unwilling woman.
Benson took a note of the guy’s face, making a mental reminder to speak to Ricky about kicking the perv out later.
Carrie pushed him back. “What are you doing?”
“You’re welcome.”
She studied him, her lips quirked in amusement. “Do you even know how to dance?”
“Come here and find out,” Benson challenged.
Carrie shrugged and shuffled closer. She pasted her body on his and started swaying. Benson hoped he hadn’t been over-estimating his dancing skills. The moves in his repertoire were limited, but he knew how to keep a rhythm.
His hands bracketed Carrie’s waist and he matched each swerve of her hips with his own until they were dancing in tandem.
She belonged in his arms.
The crowd melted away until he forgot about them completely. It was just him and Carrie on that dance floor. Which was a good thing. Benson wasn’t usually comfortable with this level of sensuality in public.
But Carrie didn’t give him a moment to think about his shyness or his reputation. In that moment, nothing was more seductive than the music and the stunning woman in his arms.
Carrie crackled with confidence; her movements were fluid, merging with the vibrant melody.
He slid his arms from her waist and pressed his hands flat against her stomach, squatting a bit so he could brace her properly. She tossed a mischievous look of disbelief over her shoulder.
Tension coiled in his gut. Made him want to kiss the shock right off her face.
Unable to ignore her stunned glances, he dropped his mouth to her ear and breathed heavily. “What?”
She turned and faced him. Benson locked their fingers together, pressing his forehead against hers. Sweat dotted her face. Excitement glittered in her dark brown eyes. “You’re good.”
“You’re better.”
She lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I’m black. This music’s in my blood.”
“I can see that.”
“You’re not too bad.” She draped her arms over his neck and shot him a mischievous look. “For an Asian.”
Unable to help himself, he dropped a kiss on her lips. Felt the familiar explosion that sizzled through his veins, all the way down to his groin. Here, in public, he felt comfortable enough to explore her without restraint.
Carrie set her hands on his cheeks and kissed him back. They were rocking to their own rhythm, feeding off their own frenzy. His hands crept over her side, brushed her back. He cupped her plump rear, dug his fingers in. Carrie ground her hips against him in response.
Flames of heat licked at his heels, his hands, his skin. He was burning up from the inside. A bomb set to explode. And Carrie was the trigger.
She broke the kiss and winked. “Storage closet’s free.”
He took her chin in his hands. “You ready to say the words?”
“I want you.” She slowed her movements, tempting him with her flashing eyes and crazy hot body. “Take it or leave it.”
At this point, with Carrie rubbing all over him and the music taking control like this, Benson had no more gas in the tank to resist her.
Screw it.
He’d take the crumbs and find a way to get her heart later. Turning abruptly, he dragged her out of the crowd. His jaw clenched. His heart thundered, matching the frantic pace of the dancehall song blasting from the speakers.
Carrie stumbled behind him, a knowing smirk on her lips. Benson hated that she’d won, but it wouldn’t take long until he had her shuddering against him, nothing but his name on her lips. That would be his consolation prize.
Before he could tug her down the hallway, a woman skidded into their path. Wendy.
Carrie dropped his hand and stepped forward. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s a guy at a table asking for
you,” Wendy said. “He says it’s important.”
Benson bit back a curse. Really? Some customer needed Carrie now? Great timing.
She glanced back at him, eyebrows scrunched. “Sorry. Can you hold that thought for like, five minutes?”
He was about to explode and she wanted him to wait?
Benson shook his head, forcing himself to calm down. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Where is he?” Carrie asked, trotting ahead of him with Wendy.
Unwilling to let her out of his sights, Benson followed them, telling himself he could be of assistance if the customer turned violent or something. Whatever this was about, Carrie wouldn’t be alone.
Wendy pointed to a couple sitting around a table on the raised platform. “Over there.”
“Thanks.” Carrie smiled and glanced over. She blinked when she saw him. “I thought you’d wait for me in the room.”
“I figured I’d help you take care of business first.” Benson gestured for her to walk ahead of him.
Carrie smiled and pranced forward. He couldn’t tell who the customer was thanks to the dim lighting, but Benson hoped he had a good reason for this. If they’d called Carrie out for something stupid…
Carrie froze.
Benson almost bounced into her but stopped just in time. Shuffling beside her so he could see her face, he frowned. “Car?”
“Carrie, baby!” A stocky black man with a thick beard and brown eyes lifted a hand. A woman in a sheer black dress with only a bra and panties underneath stuck close to the guy’s side.
Benson was standing near enough to Carrie that he felt her muscles tensing. His head swung from her furious expression to the stranger simpering at her. Did she know this guy?
In a strained voice, Carrie said, “Goodnight, sir. How can I help you?”
“Sir?” The man pressed a hand to his chest. “Why are you acting like we’re strangers? It’s me, baby. Dylan.”
Dylan?
The name rang a bell. Wasn’t he the ex Carrie had been trying to get over when they first met?
His fingers coiling into fists, Benson took a threatening step forward. Carrie’s hand flew through the air and clamped over his. She glanced his way and slightly shook her head. “He’s not worth it,” she murmured.
Benson kept his peace.
