“You’re the first,” Ben said cheerfully.
“Um…” She frowned skeptically. “I’m sorry, but that’s impossible to believe. Look at you.” She stepped back and swept her gaze up and down his body. “Not buying it.”
“The first in all the important ways.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, nice line. Anyway. Moving on.” She tapped a finger against her chin, as if negotiating “How about this? I promise to forget about all those others if you take your shirt off.”
“Done.” He quickly unbuttoned his light blue cambric shirt, which he wore over a ribbed undershirt that clung to every mouthwatering muscle.
“Both shirts,” she ordered him.
“Bossy. Demanding. I like it.” He pulled the undershirt off, but it snagged on his head, giving her an extra moment to appreciate the full spectacle of his perfectly honed torso. She tried to imagine all the crunches and lifts that must have gone into building musculature like that. Looking closer, she noticed a small tattoo over his heart, but she couldn’t quite make out what it was.
Finally, he got the shirt all the way off, just in time to catch her peering at his naked chest. His gray-blue eyes laughed at her. “I know you think I’m leering at you, and I am,” she admitted. “I’m also trying to figure out what your tattoo is.”
“It’s a mountain and a star. Jupiter Point. I got it overseas, when I was homesick as a baby. I missed everything…my family, you, the fricking Milky Way ice cream shop. The mountain and star kind of summed it all up.”
She traced it, noting the beautiful colors, the deep green of the mountain peaks, the blue of the star. “Right over your heart,” she murmured.
“Yup. I’m a sap. I actually balled the entire time I was getting the tattoo. That way I could blame it on the needle gun.”
She smiled mistily at the image of big strong Ben weeping on the tattoo table. Ben had never been afraid to show emotion, but maybe things were different in the Air Force. “Those needle guns would make anyone cry. Even a tough girl like me.”
His gaze sharpened, and he padded closer to her, until his half naked magnificence was only a step away. “You’re talking personal experience?”
“I am. Want to see?” She teased him by inching up the hem of her dress, bit by bit.
“Hell yes.” With greedy eyes, he watched every movement she made. The heat from that look set her on fire. “Let me guess. Lower back?”
“No.”
“Inner thigh?” he asked hopefully.
“No.”
“Please don’t say breasts, because that just sounds painful. And your breasts are so perfect and beautiful, I think that would break my heart.”
Her dress had reached the upper edge of her thigh-highs. Not her favorite part of her body; the elastic pressed into her flesh, so it spilled over a little. It didn’t seem to bother him. He watched her ravenously, savoring every bit of exposed skin.
Finally, the lower tip of the tattoo could be seen, then the entire thing. It traveled around her rib cage, five little marks, each one no bigger than a thumb, but the flock of them combining into a flight of cranes across her torso.
Over the fabric of her dress, she watched Ben closely. Would he recognize the meaning? Would he remember the pond her mother tended in the hopes that the cranes would alight there during their journey north? Would he remember the time, after Mom had died, when she and Ben had been jogging down the back road and a pair of cranes had swooped by, a few feet above their heads? She’d started crying, right then and there, sure that those cranes had been a message from her mother. That her mother wanted her to be happy, to be in love.
She could tell from his expression that he remembered. Ben was the only person in the world who would understand her tattoo without some kind of explanation. She pulled her dress the rest of the way off her body, until she faced him in nothing but bra, underwear and thigh-highs.
He touched each tattooed crane in turn, gently, the soft caress sending thrills though her. “She would have loved this. I remember when she got really into figuring out everyone’s spirit animals.”
“Yes, she loved that kind of thing. Whenever I came home crying because Savannah was so much more beautiful than I was, she would say, ‘the peacock might draw more eyes, but he cannot fly into the heavens like the crane can.’ Which didn’t really help at all, but it was a pretty thought. She was kind of magical like that.”
“She was.” The way he looked at her made her knees quiver. His gaze traveled from the flock of cranes to her breasts, still hidden behind the silk bra she’d purchased just for this very moment. “God, you’re beautiful.”
The worshipful tone of his voice made her lower belly clench. Under his gaze, she couldn’t imagine ever not feeling beautiful. She held her breath as he touched the pad of his index finger to her right nipple. Slowly he circled it, his entire focus arrowing in on her pebbling flesh.
The pleasure was insane. How could such a light touch have such an intense effect? It made no sense. She swayed on her feet, her eyes drifting half-closed as she drank in every pulse of sensation created by his sure finger.
An iron band behind her back stabilized her. Scratch that. It was his arm, the other one, the one that wasn’t attached to the hand currently teasing her nipple until it throbbed. “God, Ben,” she whispered. “I missed this so much.”
“Me too,” he rumbled. “Your breasts were my obsession for all of junior year. I don’t know how I’ve managed to live without them.”
She nearly choked on a bubble of laughter. “You’re so ridiculous.”
“I’m serious. And now they’re hiding behind a damn bra. Do you mind?”
She shook her head, relaxing in his arms as he unfastened her bra from behind and slid it off her body. He cupped her breasts in both hands. His exaggerated groan of appreciation made her smile. “They’re just breasts,” she noted.
“Oh no. These are not just breasts. These babies are an important part of my psyche, I’ll have you know.” He filled his hands with her flesh, using his thumbs to elicit more delicious sensations from the tips. “If you knew how many fantasies they starred in. Between your swimsuits and your sports bras and those little belly shirts you used to wear…oh my God. I swear, these boobs are like my long-lost BFFs.”
She was laughing so hard now that she almost didn’t notice he was now reaching for the waistband of her underwear. “I seriously didn’t know you had such an intense relationship with the girls.”
“I didn’t want you to get jealous. I still liked you best.”
Her breath caught as he slid a finger under her panties, which were made of a filmy, clingy kind of fabric that teased as much as it covered.
“I gotta say, much as I love your underwear, the thought of you in nothing but those thigh-highs might make me come in my pants.”
“Better take them off, then.” She flicked him on the arm. “I can’t believe you’re still wearing them while I’m practically naked.”
“They’re the only thing keeping my cock from springing out like a fucking jaguar.”
Cock. Had the young Ben ever said the word “cock” to her? She didn’t think so. “Dick,” maybe. Even that had made her blush.
He noticed her reaction. “Sorry, too salty? I’ve been in the Air Force; my language is rougher than it used to be.”
“No no. It’s fine. It’s actually…I like it.” All the saliva had dried up in her mouth, so she passed her tongue over her lips to moisten it. He tracked the motion with hot eyes. “It makes me feel like I can say things like, I don’t know, ‘clit.’”
His eyes danced. “Yeah, that’s a new one from Julie deGaia. I think if you’d ever said ‘clit’ to me back then my head would have exploded. I barely knew what a clit was. I actually think I looked ‘clitoris’ up in the encyclopedia. I had to do some research before we took that step, remember?” His hand slid under her panties until it reached the warmth between her legs. “There it is. Right where I remember it.
”
“Some things don’t change.” She gasped and held on to his shoulders as he fingered the tiny nub of flesh crying out for attention. She had to hand it to the clitoris—it might be small and soft and hidden, but it was amazingly powerful. It was making her do crazy things, like open her legs farther and beg him not to stop touching her. It took charge of her body, putting the rest of her on notice. We’re doing this. Oh God yes, we’re doing this.
He caressed her until she was slick with wet, juicy desire, until the dampness ran down her thighs. This was what she’d missed with the others. This searing, electric pleasure, the powerful connection that caught her up like a rushing river.
Ben had always been a sensitive lover, watching her closely to see how things felt for her. He’d check in with her all the time—does this feel good? Does this hurt? Do you like it when I touch you here? Sometimes his questions had made her blush.
But now, along with the sensitivity, he had a new level of confidence. When he touched her, she saw no trace of doubt or hesitation. He stroked her clit with his long fingers, his expression tender, focused, intent. He slid one finger inside her, and she nearly came right then from the shock of pleasure.
She thought of the first time she’d had an orgasm with Ben. He’d been so amazed that he’d pulled it off that he’d actually howled at the moon in triumph. She’d laughed at his glee, but when the tables were turned and he came in her hand, just from her touch, she’d felt the same way.
Face it—Ben was special to her, special in a way that no one else could ever be. And now they were about to do the one thing they’d held back from.
Was she really ready to have sex with Ben? What if it meant that he’d be even more cemented into her heart? Sex was the one piece they’d never shared, and maybe that was why they were able to attempt a friendship now. Would they still be able to be “friends” if they slept together? The stakes seemed so insanely high. And Ben was so important to her. Such a part of her life, her history, her being.
So she pulled away from his dizzying touch and took a step back so she could catch her breath and get a grip on her emotions.
Ben’s bedroom held a king-size bed with a simple oyster-colored comforter, neatly made up. A night table sat on each side of the bed, with lamps and books and an iPad, all in orderly piles. “You’re so much tidier than you used to be.”
“The service will do that to you.” Ben watched her, eyes still dark with arousal, his chiseled, bare torso covered in a light sheen of sweat, which gave his muscles even more spectacular definition. He looked so downright incredible that she felt dizzy all over again. He folded his arms over his chest. The flex of his biceps made her mouth water. “Are we taking a break to admire my housekeeping skills?”
“Well, I am a professional,” she pointed out weakly. “And you do an excellent job.”
“Thanks. I try. Order is important to me. I like things to be nice and harmonious around me. All the better to mess it up when I have a good reason.”
A full-body shiver went through her; his expression made it obvious what that “good reason” would be. “You’re still wearing pants,” she said. “It didn’t seem fair.”
“That’s why you stopped?” He quirked his eyebrows and put his hands to the fastening of his jeans. “No problem.” He shucked off his pants and faced her in nothing but his boxers.
At first, she was so riveted by the long, sleekly powerful muscles of his thighs that she didn’t notice the boxers. But eventually her gaze made it to his underwear—and she burst into laughter.
“What?” He faked an innocent, wounded look. “You’re not supposed to laugh when a man strips down to his underwear. A guy’s ego could get mortally wounded by that.”
“Have you been wearing those all these years? There’s no way. That’s not possible.” She put her hand over her mouth to stop the giggles from pouring out. But she couldn’t help it.
The very first time she and Ben had taken their clothes off together, he’d been wearing those same boxers as a joke. They were black with flames printed on them, along with the words “Pull Down in Case of Emergency.” They’d looked ridiculous back then, but now, with his added muscle and bulk, they were outright hysterically funny.
He grinned at her as she cracked up. “I found them when I was moving my stuff from the farmhouse. It really brought back some memories. Nice, huh?” He struck a muscleman pose, arms above his head, tendons straining. “Sexy, right?” He shifted into a quick comical sequence of bodybuilder poses. By the end of it, she was laughing so hard, she had to sit down.
“Oh my God. Please stop! I can’t take it. You know what’s the funniest?” She gestured at the stiff mound of his erection straining behind the printed flames. “You can barely fit your erection in there.”
“Believe me, I know.” He plucked at the fabric, screwing up his face in a look of discomfort. “But I didn’t want to take them off until you got the full effect. I thought you’d appreciate the flashback.”
“Oh, I do. I haven’t laughed so hard…” She wiped a tear away. All her tension, all her anxiety about the stakes involved in sleeping with Ben, it all disappeared. This was Ben. The sweetest, most tender soul she’d ever known. They’d be fine. They’d figure it out. Whether or not they slept together.
And damn it all, they’d gotten this far, the two of them nearly naked except for a pair of thigh-highs, panties and boxers covered in flames. It would be practically criminal to back out now. When she was eighty and thinking back on her life, she didn’t want to remember that time when her beautiful Ben wore nothing but his ridiculous boxers and she walked away.
She rose from the bed and took two steps, until she was pressed against him. Tucking one finger under the waistband of those boxers, she felt the heat radiating from his penis. “Love the boxers, but I’m even more excited about what’s under them, flyboy.”
His eyes flared. “They’re gone. I’ll set the damn things on fire if you want.”
“Don’t you dare. They’re historical relics now. They need to be preserved.” She slid her hand against the warm, flat surface of his lower belly, tangling her fingers in the springy hair she found there. He groaned softly as she played with him, barely brushing the large shape of his erection.
He put his hands on her upper arms and looked at her closely. “You sure you want this? You looked a little anxious there for a moment.”
“I’m sure. I was freaking out a little, I admit. Sex changes things; it always does.”
“We did everything except make love back then. It almost seems like a technicality.”
“Maybe. But maybe not. I guess there’s only one way to find out.” She wrapped her fingers around his hot shaft. No, there was no way she was walking away now.
Urgent hope flared in his eyes. “Julie, you know how bad I want this. But not bad enough to mess things up.” He ran his hands down the outside of her arms to her wrists, then back up. She shivered, her nipples rising all on their own, just from the light feathering of his palms along her arms.
“We won’t mess things up. We’re adults now. All grown up. We’re not kids, so consumed with emotion that we can’t just enjoy ourselves.” She pushed his boxers down his thighs, revealing the iron firmness of his muscles, the light scattering of hair, the thick rise of his newly freed erection. He was so masculine, so strong and sturdy.
He stepped out of them, leaving them on the floor next to the rest of his clothes. Now he was completely naked, her familiar Ben in a new and outrageously sexy form. Heat rushed to her face as she saw the full extent of his arousal—thick and full and hard and desirous.
He wanted her just as much as she wanted him. And she wanted him so much that her thighs were quivering.
He watched her with hot eyes. “I want to taste you again. I’ve never gotten the flavor of you out of my head.” He crowded against her, causing a gasp of pleasure to burst from her mouth. He laid her back on the bed, then braced over her, one knee on either side
of her legs. He bent down and licked one erect nipple until it throbbed, then the other. The place between her legs ached for him. She lifted her hips to him, wanting, needing more…and he was there. He tugged down her panties with an impatient hand and claimed her sex. The contact was direct and intimate, and she gave a cry of happiness.
He held her for a moment like that, then lowered himself down so his head came between her thighs. His tongue, that glorious organ that had studied her and learned everything about her in the past, touched her clit. Then swirled and tasted and savored.
She gave herself over to him, letting him spread her legs wider, hook them over his shoulders. At first, she tilted her head to watch him, but the sight of his tousled head planted between her legs, still in thigh-highs, his wide shoulders bunching with muscle, was too much for her.
So she lay back and closed her eyes, letting the sensations play through her, each one taking on a sound in her head, a melody or a rhythm. He trailed his fingers across the tender skin of her inner thighs, adding a high note of pure delight. Then his thumb joined in, its thickness sliding alongside her clit, making her bite back a scream. Then came a finger inside her again, then another, stroking deep, finding a spot inside. She wanted to explode into fireworks.
Nearly delirious with pleasure, she flung her arms wide, digging her fingers into the comforter, as if she might fly off into the ether if she didn’t anchor herself.
And then she was flying. He sent her there, into the upper atmosphere of bliss. As if riding a magic carpet, she soared high overhead, all hint of gravity gone. All time, all space, vanished. On waves of pleasure, she floated, each convulsion shooting her higher, offering more ecstasy, until the world was entirely hers, and she was entirely his.
She came down in stages. First a long moan, then a touch on his hair, then a tug on his shoulder. “Come here,” she whispered. “Up here. With me.”
He crawled up her body so his face was level with hers, so he could drop a lingering kiss on her lips. She tasted sex on his mouth. “Come inside me,” she urged.
Hot and Bothered Page 14
