Deep

by Kylie Scott

  "Who's Meli? And..." I held the next scrawled-on piece of paper up to my face. "Crap. I think it says Karen. I don't think you should call Karen for a good time. The poor girl can barely spell her own name. Hey, mind if I borrow your credit card?"

  The Neanderthal dipped and my feet once more met the ground. He held onto my elbow with a strong hand. A good thing because, whoa, my head spun around and around as the world slowly righted itself.

  "Give me that," he growled, snatching the wallet out of my hands and stuffing it back into his pocket. "Stop acting like a brat."

  "I'm acting like a brat? Are you serious?"

  "Saying you'll talk to me later, then disappearing."

  I snorted. "Because hearing more of your excuses sounds like such a good time."

  "It's not like that."

  "Bullshit," I said, hands on hips. "Go find someone who wants to play your games, Ben."

  "Fuck." He turned away, mouth all scrunched up. "I wanted to apologize, okay?"

  I watched and waited.

  "I miss you, Liz. I didn't mean to hurt you." He seemed sincere, eyes all tortured. "I'm sorry."

  "Okay. But I still can't do it."

  His gaze searched my face. "You can't what?"

  "Be friends with you."

  He said nothing.

  "I'm sorry. I know you're lonely and you miss L.A., but I can't. I have feelings for you and I can't just put them away because you're not prepared to go there."

  He pressed his lips tight together, hard enough to turn them white. Then he turned his back on me.

  "Ben?"

  Silence.

  "For what it's worth, I missed you too."

  The elevator pinged and the doors slid smoothly open.

  "Thanks for the lift." I wandered out, fishing my room key out of my bra ever so subtly. He'd been right. It probably was time to call it a night. At least I'd gotten some dancing and a drink or two in. I'd seen some of Vegas for myself and Anne and Mal were happily married. All in all, a highly successful trip. So why did it feel like I was being broken open because of him one more time?

  Ben trudged along behind me, saying nothing. He could do as he pleased. Obviously. It was around midnight, give or take. Today had been long, with all the wedding preparations, and last night had been a late one, with my birthday celebration. Fact was, bed sounded like a damn fine idea actually.

  I opened the door to my penthouse suite and stepped inside. Everything was marble and mirrors and splendor. The curtains were drawn back, displaying the Strip all lit up. A thing of beauty.

  "Wow."

  The moody man mountain leaned his butt against the table, legs spread wide and muscular arms crossed over his chest. What he did to me. I never stood a chance. My heart went boom and my body woke right the hell up. The temptation to go climb him, to touch him and taste him, was too strong. He needed to leave.

  "Shouldn't you be off hitting up Karen or Meli or whoever else passed you their number?" I asked.

  "You jealous?"

  I tried to smile. I'm pretty sure I failed. "What would be the point?"

  He just gazed at me, his blank face a mystery. Hell, all of him a mystery. One I would never solve.

  "You can leave," I said. "I won't be going out again."

  The man crashed down on the couch. "Give me a break. I've been chasing you all over town for the last few hours."

  Again and again. Whatever.

  Beyond the open living and dining room lay the bedroom. A mother of a bed. You'd pretty much want to pack a lunch if you were going to try and cross the thing. More flower arrangements and fancy furniture. The bathroom was equally huge and majestic. Two baths, for some reason. Wild. I wandered up to one of the basins, studying the girl in the mirror. Not bad. Pretty enough, if not beautiful. Hopefully the bulk of the time she had half a brain in her head and a promising future ahead of her.

  But in the meantime the updo needed dealing with. Then I could get down to scrubbing all the makeup off my face. Maybe I'd even test-drive one of the tubs.

  Ben appeared in the doorway with an open beer in his hand. Another of the buttons of his white shirt had been undone. Such a bull of a neck. No god damn idea why that worked for me.

  "I take it you've decided you're staying?" I reached back, searching for the first of what would no doubt be many, many hairpins.

  "You mind?"

  "No, I give up. But what would Mal say?"

  "I'll crash on the couch," he said, ignoring my question entirely.

  I continued duking it out with the do.

  "Let me help." He stepped closer, setting his beer down. Dark brows drew in a ways as he gave my hair a good glaring at. Then, with careful fingers, he gently tugged free his first pin and tossed it onto the counter.

  "Thanks."

  Without comment, he kept on with the job while I watched. Weird. I barely came up to the guy's shoulder, even in my high heels. The width of him dwarfed me. I wasn't particularly tiny or petite, being basically average everything. But with him standing behind me I looked like some small, dainty thing. The guy could crush me one-handed. Hell, he'd done a pretty good job on my heart from afar.

  "Don't know why you do all this," he said. "It looks just as good down."

  My eyebrows rose right up. "I didn't know you noticed."

  Nothing.

  I stole a sip of his beer. A fancy German one in a big shiny green bottle. Hoppy. Nice.

  "Don't need all that shit on your face, either." He took the beer off me and had another swig before returning to tending my hair. Our gazes met ever so briefly in the mirror, then his darted away. He took a deep breath, got busy.

  "Thanks. I think."

  A shrug.

  My fingers toyed with the edge of the counter, nails flicking back and forth. A nervous habit. He shifted slightly, moving a little closer. I could feel the heat of him at my back, the solidity of him.

  "Maybe I should do this myself," I said.

  "You'll be here all fucking night you try to do it by yourself. How many pins did they stick in this thing?"

  "I lost count after the first dozen or so."

  He worked for a while in silence. Yeah. Awesome. Not awkward at all.

  "Happy Birthday for yesterday," he mumbled in a rough low voice. More pins were tossed onto the counter.

  "Thanks."

  Carefully, he started pulling sections of my hair free, letting them fall down my back. The intent look in his eyes, the absolute focus as he did it, nearly killed me. What the hell was going on here? Talk about mixed signals. Maybe I'd have a cold bath, ice, the whole works. It would take at least that to put out the fire in my pants.

  "Happy Twenty-Ninth Birthday for before Christmas," I said, voice wavering. "I, um ... I know I was there for the dinner, but..."

  "But you were avoiding me." The edges of his mouth slid into a smile. It seemed self-deprecating somehow. Definitely unfunny.

  "Yeah."

  He stared at me in the mirror. And then he stared at me some more. God, I wish I could read him. Just for a moment even. I wished I could touch him even more.

  "Funny," he said. "We were only texting, but I got used to it."

  "Me too."

  "What do you want for your birthday?" he asked, changing the topic abruptly.

  "Ah, nothing. You don't need to buy me anything."

  "I want to get you something. So what do you want? What do you need?"

  Him and him with his heart on his sleeve. "The handle on my canvas satchel broke the other day. Guess I could do with a new one of those, if you wanted to get me something. But Ben, it's really not necessary."

  "A satchel. Okay. What else?"

  "Nothing else. Thank you. Just a new satchel would be great."

  He shook his head. "Most women would be asking for diamonds."

  "Ben, I don't like you because you have money. I like you because you're you."

  His thumb stroked over the back of my neck, there and gone in an instant. Perhaps
it was an accident. "Thank you."

  I plucked a pin from my hair, taking over the job. "We better get this done. It's late."

  "I got it," he said, focusing on my hair once more.

  "Okay." God he was beautiful. Why did I have to go nuts every time he came near? Just once it would be nice if I could not play the fool where this man was concerned. "I think maybe you should leave. I think I need you to."

  Thick fingers removed another pin, like I hadn't said a word.

  "Why are you here?" I reached back behind my head and grabbed his wrists, stilling him. "Ben?"

  "Because apparently I'm shit at staying away from you."

  "Then I guess we have a problem." Our fingers meshed, holding on tight.

  "That's putting it fucking mildly."

  My eyelids started blinking like crazy for some reason. "I warned you not to flirt with me again unless you meant it."

  He didn't answer, just released my fingers and went back to playing with my hair, running it over the back of his hand, laying it over my shoulder. Such a stern look on his face, the frown embedded on his sharp features. My hands fell back to my sides.

  And call me a blundering fool, but I was going there again. Apparently I would never learn. Hair half up, half down, and the buzz from the margaritas fading much too fast to help fuel such bravery. Damn it. I looked crazy--and hell, I probably was. Who are we kidding?

  "Hey." I turned, cupping his cheek with my hand. The bristle of his beard felt amazing, sort of soft and yet not quite. Even more amazing, he wasn't stopping me or drawing back.

  "Talk to me," I repeated.

  "Fucking hated seeing that guy all over you."

  "What? In the bar?"

  A jut of the chin and he went back to examining my hair, carefully extracting another pin.

  My hand slipped down, fingers skating over the side of his warm neck. The skin was so soft and smooth. "If it makes you feel any better, I pretty much want to scratch Karen and Meli's eyes out with my bare hands. But that doesn't change the situation here."

  The edges of his mouth turned down.

  Fuck it. I edged forward, getting closer, leaning into his broad chest.

  No.

  No.

  Apparently the dude seriously liked my hair. Because something in his pants was definitely making its presence felt against my stomach. The fire in my pants turned into a blazing inferno. I'm surprised we weren't both incinerated on the spot. Everything low in me tensed, my thighs getting weak and strung out all at once. So this was what being really and truly fuck-me-now-or-I'll-die turned on felt like. And yet, leaning into the heat and strength of him, I also felt perfectly safe.

  Just not from rejection.

  "Ben?"

  "Hmm?"

  "What is this? Do you know what you're doing?"

  "What I shouldn't be doing."

  He slid his hand down my back, drawing me in firmly against his erection. Oh yeah. I dug my fingers nails into his neck, holding on tight. If he tried to ditch me now, I'd kill him. No joke. Death by hairpins. It would be messy but highly necessary.

  Lucky for him, he didn't.

  "I mean it," he said, voice devastatingly low but certain. So beautifully, perfectly certain.

  "Okay."

  He covered my hand with his, holding it against his skin. The small acceptance of me touching him turned me on almost as much as the heat of his body. I rocked against him, rubbing myself against his erection.

  The man swore up a storm. "Fuck, Lizzy."

  "What a good idea." My heavy head lolled to the side and his hot mouth was there, sucking, licking, and biting. My blood ran hot, racing through me at the speed of light. His teeth sunk just a little into my skin, making me moan. Then his hand slid down, cupping my ass through the silk of my dress, fingers digging in. And this was all nice, really nice. But I wanted to kiss him so bad.

  "Let me..." I stretched up, looping my arms around his neck, dragging his mouth down to mine. Once, twice, he grazed my lips with his. The fucking tease. And I had no control over him at all because, "You're too tall!"

  He laughed deep and dirty, hands sliding over my ass to lift me up. Genius. The man was a fucking gorgeous, bearded, bass-playing, oversize genius. My legs went around his waist and the smile on his face--shit. It was a total smirk. Just this once, he could have it, and for the record, it looked damn good on him too.

  "Better?" he asked.

  "Yes." I attached my lips to his and shoved my tongue into his mouth and kissed the man stupid. Just like I'd been dying to do for so long.

  He groaned, one hand cupping my ass, the other rubbing and caressing the back of my neck. Encouraging me or holding me in place, I don't know. Either way, it felt sublime. What was going on between my legs, meanwhile, the hard length of his cock rubbing just so, pretty much drove me out of my mind. When had sex gotten so good? My six-or-so-year abstinence had a lot to answer for, and yet I was damn glad I'd waited.

  I kissed him deep, tasting and exploring. The feel of his beard brushing against my face, the soft slip of his hair through my hands. In lieu of actual fucking, I'd done a lot of making out over the years. No one kissed like Ben, though. Though I'd started out in charge of the mouth-to-mouth, the battle was more of a draw now. His tongue slipped into my mouth, teasing and tantalizing me, turning me on even more.

  I hadn't even realized we were moving until my back hit the wall. The bathroom wall. We wouldn't be making it to the bedroom this time, and all right, fair enough. His hand moved from my neck to fumble with his zipper, knuckles brushing against the damp crotch of my panties. Ratcheting up my excitement levels just that much more. Then his finger hooked the satin material of my panties aside and his cock was rubbing against me there. Right fucking there. Yes, yes, yes.

  "Ben."

  "Lizzy. Shit. Stay still."

  "I'm trying."

  He pressed into me, the lips of my pussy giving, opening to take him. And there was a lot of him. His hips flexed and I squeaked in surprise. But it wasn't long before we were both groaning, in both the good and the bad ways. The thick head of his cock was lodged inside of me, but going no further. Not without some serious pain, at least on my part. How damn wide was the guy?

  Ben rested his damp forehead against mine, panting. "This isn't working."

  "I'm not a virgin, it's just been a while. It should fit!" I clung to him tighter, hiding my face in his neck. No way would I burst into tears, despite the current uncertainty of the situation within my actual tear ducts, fueled by both pain and need. How ridiculous. A hand rubbed my back in big, soothing circles.

  "Shouldn't have rushed," he said.

  I sniffed.

  "Easy." He lifted me off of him, and even that did not feel good. "'s okay."

  "I really wanted this." I confessed into his neck. "You."

  "And you'll have me. Shh."

  We moved again, this time into the bedroom.

  "I had no fucking business being inside you without protection anyway."

  "It felt good. Until it felt bad."

  "I know."

  A hand searched for the zip on the back of my dress, tugging it down. The air-conditioning hit my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. Or maybe it was just the way he looked at me, all aggressive and tender at once. I was laid out on the mattress, Ben working busily to get me bare.

  "We're really not stopping?" I asked, lust burning bright once again. Not that it had ever really disappeared. How could it, with him around? My girl parts were sadly predictable like that.

  "Fuck no."

  I smiled, wiggling and rolling this way and that, according to what would be most helpful. No hesitation. Off came my bra, the slick pointy-toed heels and thigh-high stockings, then he hovered over my fancy silk panties.

  "What?" I asked, panting just a little.

  Fingers stroked over the curves of my hips, my thighs. The man was probably used to models and starlets, women in no way normal. Of all times to get an attack of the ne
rves. I crossed my arms demurely over my bare breasts, biting at the inside of my cheek.

  "Ben, what's the problem?"

  "No problem." His gaze met mine. Then he noticed the crossed arms, covering my chest. "Don't."

  My hands fluttered, unsure what to do.

  He took hold of both wrists, bending over me to press them into the bed above my head.

  "Keep 'em there," he said, voice gruff, clipped, and eyes deadly serious. "'kay?"

  "Okay."

  His hands traced down the length of my arms, over my armpits, then down my sides. The tension inside me seemed unbearable. My mind was whirling in circles, befuddled and aroused both. What was he going to do?

  Thumbs hooked into the sides of my sole remaining piece of clothing and slowly dragged them down my legs. While his tickly bearded chin trailed down over my breastbone, between my pert breasts, and over my belly. Softly, he placed a kiss on my belly button, then dropped my underwear onto the floor.

  "All good?" he asked.

  "Y-yes."

  The man sank to his knees by the side of the bed, the palms of his hands stroking over my thighs. "Good."

  Without further preamble, he grabbed my hips, dragging me to the edge of the mattress to meet his waiting mouth. And yes, my legs were spread, they were wide open. With his head in the way, they had few other options. The feeling of his hot, eager mouth on my pussy ... there were no words. Or at least, none sufficient to sum this up.

  "Fuck. Ben."

  My back bowed, head pushing into the mattress. The pleasure was bigger than my body could contain. Every ounce of my consciousness was focused on the fast-building buzz between my legs. My heels pressed against his back through the fine material of his fancy dress shirt. He wrapped his arms around my thighs, holding me to him. As if I wanted to get away. His tongue dragged through my sex, lips sucking and teeth almost biting. Everywhere he went his facial hair followed, making my nerve endings tingle and my tummy tighten. Too much and not enough and give me more. Every now and then he'd give me a warning nip somewhere, such as the sensitive join of body and thigh, like I needed a reminder regarding who was in charge.

  Who was doing what to whom.

  He ground his face into me, eating me, going wild, and it felt fucking amazing. Mind-blowing, breath-stealing. Everything. I got it now. Beards were the best. His tongue was like a lick of heat, his lips silken smooth and so damn strong. That beard, however. Holy shit. Too many sensations, too much, and all I could do was take it. The man was damn skilled, but I didn't want to think about how many women he'd practiced on. Forget that. Only now mattered.