by Kylie Scott
"It's safe," I said.
"Hey."
"Hi."
He said no more, instead turning to the sink to wash off his face and neck. Guess I'd done a good job of juicing him, because he stripped off the Arizona T-shirt and tossed it aside. Next, he spent some time washing his hands.
Only then did he approach. "Mind if I join you?"
I shrugged. "It's your bath."
With a sigh, he climbed in and sat down opposite me at the other end of the tub. I tucked my legs up, ensuring he had plenty of room without us being required to touch. He stretched out his long legs on either side of mine, gaze glued to my face. What a sight we must have made, me fully dressed in the dry tub and him in his jeans and big black boots. Man, he had a nice chest. I did my best not to notice, but some things are beyond my control. A half-naked Ben was most definitely one of them. The fight with Jim, however, concerned me. As did the raw pink knuckles of his right hand. These guys obviously enjoyed hitting walls when they got testy. I could remember Mal once doing the same. Males. So violent.
Because of course I hadn't thrown anything at anybody lately.
"Take it you heard me and Jim fighting," he said.
"Hard not to."
A nod.
"He was right about one thing: it's been a while since we talked. I mean really talked."
"Yeah."
No one spoke for a moment. I sure as hell wasn't going first. Right in that moment, I just wasn't that brave.
"I, um ... shit's been busy with the tour." He stretched his arms out around the edge of the tub, obviously getting as comfortable as hard ceramic and the situation would allow. A small line of blood down his right hand, ignored. "Weeks leading up to it, Adrian had us talking to every damn reporter in the country. It was insane."
"Oh."
"The producers think the music just makes itself. Once Dave's written the songs, they think it's a round or two in the studio and we're done. But that's bullshit. Takes hours, sometimes days, to get the sound right." Fervor shone bright in his eyes, beyond the booze and whatever. His passion for the music. "Dave used to be a perfectionist about it too, but all of the guys are distracted now, eyes on the clock, wanting to get home to their women. I'm the one sitting there with Dean and Tyler till four in the fucking morning, getting it perfect."
"Sounds like a lot of work."
"It is. Jimmy and Mal go off onstage and Dave's still the poet writing the songs. In the band, it's all down to me now, though, to work the sound." He scratched at his chin. "Know it makes me sound like a self-congratulating art geek, but it's important, you know? Whatever we put out there, I need to know in my gut it's the best we've got."
"I can understand that."
"Wasn't avoiding you, Liz, but I wasn't putting any effort into seeing you, either. You might have noticed."
"Right."
"Thought I'd let things with Mal and Anne calm down. That's just another excuse, though." Dark eyes bored into me, as if he could see my soul. Who knows, maybe he could. I always felt too open, too exposed, around him. He made me so messy with all these wants and needs. I don't know if it was love that I felt for him or lust. But whatever it was, it sucked.
"I'm sorry, Liz," he said, his soft, deep voice filling the room. "I said I'd have your back and I didn't. I disappeared on you again, and this time you were actually going through shit. Serious shit."
Huh.
"Jimmy was right. You shouldn't have had to go through it alone."
"It wasn't so bad." I turned away. A lot of emotion for one day. "I had Anne."
"Yeah, but this is our baby, and Anne isn't me."
I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, nice and slow, trying to calm my racing heart. It was true. His absence had left a bruise, and no amount of go-girl lectures delivered in the bathroom mirror could alter the fact.
"Is she?" he asked.
"No, Ben, she's not."
He slowly nodded, like something had been decided.
"So what now?" I asked.
"Talk to me." The fingers of his left hand flicked and fiddled with the hard upper rim of the bathtub. Nerves or what, I had no idea. At least the blood from the knuckles on his right hand had dried.
"About what?"
"All the stuff I should have been hearing the past month." The man was serious. Very much so. "No more of this useless fucking texting, Liz. Talk to me. Right now, face-to-face. Help me prove Jim wrong."
Give him another chance.
I stared at him, lost, my brain searching for the words. Any easily retrieved information lacked in either dignity or strength. Ah, man. Could I trust him with my weaknesses and issues? That was the question.
"C'mon. How have you been, really? What's been going on with you?" he pushed. I frowned at him and he frowned right back. "Liz, please."
I groaned in defeat. "All right, I suck."
"Why do you suck?"
"So very many reasons." I pushed my hair back from my face--no more hiding. "Pregnancy sucks. It's natural, my ass. I finally stop throwing up, but I'm tired all the time. Giving up coffee was horrendous. None of my clothes fit right because of these stupid breasts, and they ache constantly. I have to pee like every thirty seconds, and then to top it off, I cry every time the Healthy Hound ad comes on. It's ridiculous."
Little wrinkles appeared either side of his nose. "You cry at a dog food ad?"
"Yes. The puppies jump all over each other to get to their mother and it's just so beautiful, with their cute little tails wagging and everything."
He just stared at me.
"I know it's psycho, Ben. Believe me, I'm well aware of this."
"Hey, it's fine." He covered a smile with his hand. Too late, the bastard.
"You try dealing with all these hormones going apeshit. Crap. Apeshoot."
"Apeshoot?"
"I'm trying not to swear," I explained. "You want the first word our child comes out with to be something bad?"
"No. Gotcha." The man was incredibly bad at hiding a grin. "No swearing."
Jerk. I narrowed my eyes on him, holding back my own smile.
"I'm taking you seriously. I am." He flat-out lied. Though it was rather nice to see him smile and to hear his low laugh. At least the bad mood was gone.
"And my ankles are all fat and gross," I said. "It's ridiculous."
"What? Show me." A giant paw grabbed hold of my limb, dragging it onto his lap. Without preamble he pushed up the leg of my jeans and wrestled off my sandal, dropping it out onto the floor. "It looks fine. There's nothing wrong with it."
"I'm retaining fluid. It's disgusting."
One-handed, he flipped back his long, dark fringe, giving me a look most dubious.
"Let go of my foot, please. I don't want you to see it."
He slowly shook his head. "This what you've been doing the last month? Talking yourself into crazy shit and crying at dog food ads?"
"My ankle is distinctly thicker, Ben. And I explained about the dog food ad. Give me my foot back."
"No." He tucked one leg underneath the other and rested my foot atop it before proceeding to rub my toes. Damn, that felt good. The man had incredibly strong fingers. Must have been a result of all that bass playing. Thumbs dug in deep to the arch of my foot and my spine basically melted. Heaven, nirvana--I had it all within my grasp so long as he kept doing his thing.
"God, that's so nice," I happy-sighed, sinking further into the tub.
He made a gruff noise. It could have almost been construed as the word good.
"Is your hand all right?" I asked eventually.
He looked up at me from beneath dark brows, lips shut. His magic fingers paused for a moment, then kept right on kneading. "I might have put a hole or two in the wall after Jim left."
"Oh."
"He was right. You've been dealing with this on your own from the start and all I've done is throw money at the problem, hoping it would go away." He moved down to rubbing at my heel, taking care wit
h the swollen ankle. "I didn't want to know, Liz. That's why I kept my distance. I just wanted to go on like normal, pretend none of it was happening."
"Me too. But my body keeps messing things up for me." I laughed, despite the topic being distinctly unfunny. "We're not that different, Ben. This situation has thrown us both for a loop, and that's putting it mildly."
"Don't make excuses for me," he grumped.
"All right, you're an asshole and you let me down. Again. Feel better?"
The smile was much wider this time. "Thought we weren't swearing."
"Oops." It was amazing what a foot rub did for my mood. Right then, I pretty much loved the whole world. Real anger lay beyond my reach. He grasped my other foot, again rolling up my jeans, and tossed aside the sandal. I did not fight him--no sir, no way.
"Can I ask you a question?" I said.
"Shoot."
"Why didn't you ever want children?"
"Because this is me, Liz. What you see is what you get. I like things calm, easy. But you and me, we've never been easy. Minute I saw you, it's been complicated. First with Mal, and you being a little younger, more serious, and now with the pregnancy." He shook his head. "Some women don't give a shit if I come and go. It's all good. But with you and the baby, you need more from me than that. And you deserve more."
"We're messing with your lifestyle."
He looked up at me from beneath drawn brows. "It's more than that. Shit. Never tried to explain this to someone before. When you were a kid, did you ever have some game you played that just rocked your world? And you'd wake up in the morning and realize today was the day you got to do nothing but play that game all day, and it was like life could never get better? That's what my life is like. Every day I get to get up and play music, I get to create something."
I nodded sadly, finally understanding. Ben was a man living his dream. As if anyone could compete with that. Maybe he'd liked the idea of me. Reality was, however, there'd never been room for me in his life.
"When the guys are busy, I can hop on a plane and go mix things up with another band," he continued. "Fill in or be a guest on their album. Even jamming with strangers in some shitty little bar where no one knows my name. That's my life, every day. I get to make something new, learn something. And it's fucking amazing. There's nothing like it."
"Sounds great."
"It is," he said. "And that's why I never thought about kids. Even a girlfriend seemed too much of a distraction. Don't get me wrong, I like women. But it was always easier to find someone for the night than to commit to something that stops me from being who I am, doing what I love."
I nodded. What was there to say? To go into a relationship expecting the other person to change was stupid. Ben and I had been over before we began, I just hadn't known it, understood, until now. No doubt he liked me just fine, but not enough.
"Doesn't mean I'm not going to be there for you and our kid. You said we could be friends," he said. "That offer still available?"
Friends was the right thing to do. I pushed aside my disappointment and put a smile on my face. "Absolutely."
"I'd like that."
It was me and Bean, and Bean and me. Come what may, I'd have my baby girl's back. Her daddy could do what he would. And the truth was, if he kept massaging my feet this way, I'd be his best damn friend, despite the break in my heart.
He kept his face down, his concentration on the task complete. Generally my feet were not that fascinating. Maybe he did have a foot fetish after all. Fingers drew soothing circles over my crappy ankle before digging in once more to the arch of my foot. Total and complete bliss. I could pretty much feel my crazy baby hormones rolling over and offering up their soft underbelly to him, preening and calling him Daddy, the dirty things. What this man's hands could do to me. Every part of me felt floaty and wonderful. Shivery good even.
Wait up. Crap, I was seriously turned on.
A wounded heart was apparently no competition for an overeager vagina. The urge for sperm made no sense. I already had a baby on board. My tarty, attention-seeking nipples stood out loud and proud beneath my top, just begging for his lips. The situation between my legs wasn't any better. Since when had my feet become such hard-core, triple X-rated erogenous zones? His able hands made sweet pornographic love to my toes, and my muscles turned to jelly. My legs just fell open in invitation. Beyond my control, I swear. It all just felt so impossibly damn good.
Holy god damn hell. No one had warned me pregnancy could send you into heat.
Despite the ecstasy, I couldn't help but notice there was only like three ... four inches between the pad of my foot and the bulge behind the fly of his jeans. It wouldn't take much to touch. Why, little more than a flex would be more than sufficient. I could just brush my toes against the poor man's crotch and then gasp, pretending it was all some silly (wonderful) accident. Oops, clumsy me, fondling the innocent, unsuspecting man's genitals with my foot. How embarrassing--though really it could happen to anyone.
Not.
And really this is partly why, in my experience, friends don't rub friends' feet unless there's more going on. I got easily enough confused about the man, no need to make it worse.
A small moan slipped my lips, echoing in the tiled room.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Fine."
"You made a noise."
"No, I didn't."
A little line appeared above his nose. "Okay."
"That's great," I said, drawing my now slutty limbs back to the safe side of the tub. "Thanks. Very kind of you. I think we'll make great friends."
He gave me a long look. "Any time. If you need something, I want you to tell me. That's the only way this is going to work."
"Okay." I needed his naked body at my disposal. Now.
"I want total honesty from you, okay?"
"Total honesty." So help me, I'd ride him all the way home and back again.
"From now on, we talk," he said. "All the fucking time. Yap, yap, yap. That's us."
"Got it."
"Great." The way his tongue and lips played with that simple little word, it meant much, much more than it was ever meant to. And it might have been my imagination, but I'm pretty damn sure his pupils were about twice their normal size. They were like twin pools of black rock 'n' roll sexiness and desire just inviting me to jump on in and get all wet and wild and wanton. All of a sudden, breathing seemed to be an issue for me. Same with thinking, clearly. I don't know what it was about the man that made me attempt to get poetic. But it really needed to stop.
"I better go," I said.
"Fucking crazy..." he muttered.
"What?"
"You."
I groaned in embarrassment. "Come on, give me a break. I explained about the dog food ad. And hey, I told you that in confidence too. Don't you dare repeat it."
"Not talking about that," he said, the hint of a curve in the corner of his mouth doing dreadful things to me.
"What then?" I asked, both wanting and dreading knowing.
He hesitated, hiding another smile behind his hurt hand.
"Total honesty. Come on."
"Pretty sure you don't want to hear me talking about my dick."
"Your, um, your dick?"
"Yeah."
"Huh. How much have you had to drink?"
"Not nearly enough for this." The smile he gave me, I nearly came on the spot. The fact that it came framed in his particularly sleek-looking beard almost did me in. I knew exactly how his facial hair felt against me. So stimulating. Never had I wanted to rub my cheek and other pertinent parts against someone's face more. When it came to that night in Vegas, my memory was way too good.
"You asked if I'd had sex since I found out about the baby," he said. "Answer's no."
"Yeah right." I laughed.
"I'm serious. Nothing since that night. Haven't even come close."
Wow. "Why?"
"I don't know. Guess I lost my libido." He scratched at his chin. "Wasn'
t even interested. Just ... nothing."
"You couldn't get it up?" I asked, mildly horrified, and much too curious. Ben always seemed so virile.
"I didn't want to get it up," he said. "There's a difference."
"Huh. But Jimmy said--"
"Jimmy doesn't know everything." He cracked his neck, irritation in his gaze. "Wish you hadn't heard all that."
I couldn't truthfully say the same. Their conversation had been most enlightening.
"I couldn't get interested in screwing anyone because I was worried about you and the baby," he said. "Dealing with all this has been big, you know?"
"Yeah. Sex having consequences is kind of a bummer." I smiled. "I guess I've been pretty sheltered, really. Anne always dealt with the serious stuff. But this time she can't. It's all on me."
"And me."
"Yes." Time would tell.
"Anyway," he said. "Just thought you'd find it funny."
"That you were suffering from erectile dysfunction? Ben, there's no way I'd find that funny."
"It's wasn't erectile dysfunction, Liz," he said with a wounded gaze. "Don't say that."
"Okay, okay. Sorry."
"I was just numb. Lost my interest in sex for a while."
"Right. Numb."
"Anyway," he said, still frowning. Male egos. So touchy. "Soon as I'm around you again, my dick decides to come out of hibernation. Thank fuck. Was worried I'd have to wait till you'd had the baby to get it back."
"Yeah. Phew." I thought the information over for a while. Not necessarily good news--for me, at least. The other women of the world would probably benefit greatly by it, however. "Well, we did talk out some of our issues, so it's entirely natural that you'd be feeling better about the situation, I suppose."
He screwed up his face. "Sweetheart, I'm not talking about us being friends, though that's nice and all. I'm talking about the fact that you turn me on. Have since the minute I met you. Physically, you get to me."
"I do?"
"Yeah, you do. I'm just going to have to channel that interest elsewhere."
My mouth worked, though nothing came out for a while. I got to him. God, if only he knew how much he still got to me. Hope was well out of my price range, however. I couldn't afford to get physical with him. My emotions were far too involved, and clearly the man was only out for some fun. Without a doubt, I knew that now.
"Ben, are you sure this isn't some mental block you were having," I asked. "All the worry about the pregnancy and how it was going to affect things, as opposed to me physically?"
