Ben placed me on the bed. He peeled off his own shirt as he stood there. My eyes traveled over his torso, which was even more spectacular than I had imagined. His pale skin was stretched over his abs, which seemed to be about a twelve-pack. I’d never seen so many ab muscles before. His pants hung low, showing the sexy hip muscles descending down below the waist.
I bit my lip as I grabbed his hand and pulled him down on top of me. His mouth devoured mine with a tangle of passion and tongues. He broke the kiss only long enough to tear my shirt up and over my head. He reached behind me and unclasped my bra with a flick of the wrist. This was definitely Ben, not the awkward Benji from before. Ben was a man. Benji was a boy. Ben was confident, sexy. Benji was a childhood crush. I was ready to let go of Benji and accept Ben into my life, into my bed, into my body.
I unfastened his belt and jeans, which he then took off, before undoing the buttons on my pants.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked as he raised himself up to look into my eyes.
“I am so sure.”
“We don’t have to rush,” he continued.
“This has been ten years in the making. I don’t think it’s rushing,” I said as I pulled him back down on top of me. I kissed him long and hard once again.
That was all the encouragement Ben needed. He pulled my jeans off in one easy motion. My panties as well. His soft skin was warm under my fingers as I raked my nails across his back. His butt was rock hard and looked even better naked than it did in his jeans. He slid his fingers into me, making me groan loudly. His eyes were glued to my face as he watched for reactions as he worked me to near completion with his fingers alone.
“That feels so good,” I moaned. Though sensitivity was somewhat muted by my paralysis, I could still feel the sensation, pressure and heat from him. And I could still get off.
“Condom?” His breath was ragged.
I reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled one out. I handed it to him. He quickly discarded the wrapper and put it on. He kissed me again as he thrust deep inside of me. He fit inside of me as if he were the puzzle piece I had been missing my entire life. He was so long and thick. I couldn’t control my screams of passion as he pumped in and out.
We both barely lasted three minutes the first time that night. He collapsed on top of me, his heart pounding against mine.
“Holy shit!” he exclaimed breathlessly.
“I know,” I replied.
“Why did I wait ten years for that?”
“Well, I doubt it would have been that good back then. You were kind of awkward.”
“And you were super into this awkward dude.” He smiled against my lips as he kissed me.
“True. But maybe it was good this one time and it would suck if we tried again.” I didn’t believe that, of course. I was just giving him an out.
“Well, let’s test that theory, shall we?” He had a devious gleam in his eye.
We tested the theory three more times that night until we fell asleep in each other’s arms. Each time was better than the time before.
Ben didn’t leave my house for the rest of the weekend. We had meals delivered and barely left the bed. We caught up about the past decade and moved on toward the future. He eventually had to leave on Monday morning so we could both go to work. I drove him back to his house on my way to work so he could get his car.
“Can I see you tonight?” he asked.
“I should be home around five,” I said between kisses.
“I’ll be there then.” He got out of the car, started to close the door, and stopped. He leaned back down and met my eyes. “Oh, and Sandy, I can’t promise that I’m not going to mess up again. I’m sure I will do dumb things that make you mad from time to time. But I need you to know that I will never leave you again. The universe put you back in my life for a reason. I will spend every day making sure you know exactly how special you are to me.”
“And I hope you know that I’m breaking the pattern right now.”
“What pattern?” His eyebrows lifted causing a crease in his forehead.
“Things I never told you. Things that went unsaid. I knew when you walked into my house on Friday night that this was the start of our story.”
About the Author
A native of Los Angeles, California, Poppy Dubois now splits her time between Southern California and Wyoming with her amazingly patient husband, inquisitive and rambunctious son and two cuddly dogs. When she isn’t dreaming up beautiful romances and happily-ever-afters, she’s busy working as a lawyer. But even then, she’s usually plotting her next story. Shh, don’t tell her clients. In her free time, she’s either playing on social media with her writer friends, kicking butt in a karate dojo, taking pictures of abandon buildings, sitting on the porch with a nice glass of wine, or watching really bad reality TV.
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Website:
http://www.poppydubois.com
In the Dark
By DawnMarie Richards
Chapter 1
Cheek propped against her fist, Melinda Barnes stirred the mostly melted remains of her margarita with a skewer of tropical fruit. Another meet and greet, another disappointment. She just didn’t get it. How could the same person who seemed to have a direct line into the very heart of the female psyche also be such a complete jerk to his fans?
J. T. Wright had burst onto the romance scene in a blaze of erotic prose and an only slightly lesser dose of mystery. But it seemed it hadn’t been enough for him to be a man in a woman’s world. He’d upped the ante, forsaking the usual bio and author photo in favor of a stylized portrait of a man’s back—strong arms spread like the wings of an archangel—a bronzed skin canvas stretched over muscle.
And the pièce de résistance? A single, long-stemmed, red rose tattoo. Ostensibly in honor of his debut novel, Flowers at Midnight. But when the sequel, River of Love, had been released, a second image had been added to the first. And so it had gone, until a wide swath from shoulder to hip had been covered in quixotic imagery, and his readership driven into a veritable frenzy of speculation.
Just thinking about it made Melinda curl her toes. Perhaps it was just as well she hadn’t met him. She probably would have made an ass of herself. As if the man thousands of woman were fantasizing about would have the least bit of interest in a chubby fangirl with a borderline obsession.
Melinda sighed.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
The words were spoken quietly but made her jump. She turned her head, prepared to lambaste whichever asshole at the bar had thought it clever to throw a speed bump onto the road to trashed town she’d been cruising for the last hour.
He blinked at her from behind thick-framed glasses as she took his measure. Innocuous smile, baggie khakis, wrinkled shirt, she pegged him as a geek from the Comic-Con also being held at the hotel. The heat went out of her irritation. No need to crucify the guy. She just wanted to be left alone. But as she opened her mouth to tell him so, the tricky bastard preempted her. He smiled.
Glasses bobbing on his cheeks, his ordinary brown eyes warmed to amber. Dual rows of gleaming teeth appeared between generous lips, deep lines bracketing the suggestive display.
Melinda’s breath caught in her throat. Her mouth went dry. Every thought flew out of her head as her brain short-circuited. Reason was replaced by the ridiculous impulse to demand he take her to bed immediately, if not sooner.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
She seriously hoped to hell he didn’t.
He closed his eyes and shook his head before returning his straightforward gaze to hers.
“Lame. Right?”
“L-l-lame?”
“Yeah.” He turned and looked at the empty glass nestled in the tangle of his fingers. �
��‘Penny for your thoughts?’ No one says things like that anymore.”
She barely heard him, having made the mistake of following his gaze. She had a thing for men’s hands, and his were amazing. Tanned and distinct, thick veins visible beneath the skin, a smattering of arm hair venturing just beyond his wrists. And shapely, tapered fingers capped off by well-manicured nails. Unbidden, the image of them curved over her breasts—creamy flesh peeking out between bands of coppery skin—flashed in her mind. She had to force herself to look away.
“No,” she said a little too loudly before getting control of her volume. “No. It’s fine. I…It’s fine. I just didn’t expect …”
What? Lust at first sight? Not the most prudent thing to say to a stranger.
As the silence stretched between them, she lifted her head, finding him considering her thoughtfully. He shook his head.
“I’m sorry. I’m bothering you.” He dropped his gaze, and she thought the interchange was ending. “You just seemed…you sounded sort of sad.”
She gave a little huff of concession.
“I guess I am.”
“I know this probably sounds crazy, but is there anything I could do to help?”
“No.” She smiled. “It’s silly, really.”
“I doubt that.”
“No. Trust me. It is.”
“Well, we could talk about it. Maybe that will help.”
“It’s kind of embarrassing, really.”
He hunched over his drink toward her, looking to the left and right over her shoulders.
“We’ll keep it between us. I promise.”
He straightened when she laughed. A rather smug grin played about his lips as he took a sip of his drink.
“I’m here for the convention,” she admitted.
“Which one?”
She tipped her head to the side as if to say, Seriously?
“The other one.” She paused, bracing for the typical snide comment. When none came, she went on, “One author, in particular…and he didn’t show.”
“Oh.” He glanced down for a moment before meeting her gaze once more. “I’m sorry.”
It took a moment to absorb the depth of sincerity she heard in his voice, as if he’d let her down. More amazing, it made her feel better. Chuckling at herself, she dropped the fruit skewer she’d been holding into her glass and sat back in her seat.
“It’s all right, actually.” She smiled. It might be the two margaritas she’d had, but she thought the chemistry might be flowing both ways. “It’s time for me to let it go.”
“So you’re giving up on the guy after one no-show?”
She leaned forward, shaking her head as she propped her elbow on the bar, waggling three fingers in the air.
“Three?”
Nodding, she sat back, folding her hands in her lap.
“Yup. Three trips. Three different cities. Three weekends. Wasted.” She had to laugh. “And me, of all people…Of course, you don’t know me, but I don’t do things like this.”
“Like what?”
“Act like a groupie. Follow a person around the country for an autograph and a chance to shake his hand. Yeah.” She sighed, again. “I’m done.”
For several seconds, he was silent. And then he turned away. Melinda, you idiot! The guy probably thought she was some kind of crazed stalker.
“Hey, Manny,” he called out, lifting his glass. “Can I get another?”
The bartender approached with a smile, taking the man’s empty glass and giving the bar in front of him a quick wipe down.
“Sure thing, Jay—”
“—son!” The guy nearly came off his barstool. “Jason!” His laugh sounded forced. “That’s me.” There was an awkward pause. “And whatever the lady would like.”
Both men turned to look at her.
“Oh! I…” Taken by surprise, Melinda nudged her glass toward Manny. “I guess I’ll have another one of these,” she told him before shifting her gaze. “Thank you, ah…Jason. Right?”
“Right.” His grin seemed relieved. “And you are…?”
“Oh, right.” She smiled. “Melinda.”
He stuck his hand out toward her.
“Nice to meet you, Melinda.”
She put her hand in his, not quite prepared for the jolt of electricity which traveled her arm and then dispersed throughout her body. She wondered what kind of damage a kiss might do.
“So, ah, you know the bartender?”
“Just his name.” Jason smiled and then released her. “I was in here last night too.”
Melinda hid her trembling hands in her lap. She wished she hadn’t been so quick to surrender her drink. She could use something to steady her.
“So.” He leaned toward her. “Tell me more about this asshole author of yours.”
Melinda laughed.
“I don’t know that I’d call him an asshole.”
“No? Sounds like you’ve wasted an awful lot of money and energy on him. What would you call him?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “It’s not like I didn’t half expect it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Oh, he’s got this whole “man of mystery” thing going on. I don’t think anyone knows what he looks like.”
“Really? That’s kind of hard to believe. I thought social media had become lifeblood for these guys.”
“Not him. It’s kind of amazing, really. There’s basically nothing personal on the internet. No bio on his books, just a photo of a tattoo.”
“A tattoo?”
“Yeah, on his back. At least I think it’s his back. He adds to it for every novel he releases.”
“Oh, so we’re talking more douche than asshole.”
Melinda muffled a snort.
“You’re terrible.” Looking into Jason’s laughing eyes, she had to stop herself from reaching out to touch him. “My book club is probably right about him, anyway.”
“And what do they say?”
“That it’s all a PR stunt. That J. T. Wright is a middle-aged woman living in Minnesota with her husband and a couple of cats.”
Before Jason could do more than nod thoughtfully, Manny arrived. He placed a coaster in front of each of them before setting their drinks on top.
“Can I get you two anything else?”
Jason looked at her questioningly.
“I’m good,” she told him. “Thank you.”
“Looks like we’re all set, Manny. Thanks.”
“Sure thing, uh, Jason. You know where I’ll be if you need me.”
The two men exchanged nods and then the bartender sauntered away. Jason turned to her, glass lifted.
“To chance meetings.”
Smiling, Melinda bumped her glass against his. He grinned and then brought his drink to his mouth. Not wanting to miss a single second of his lips in action, she chose to find her straw with her tongue, barely managing to get her mouth closed around it before his attention returned to her. She offered him a thin smile as she tested her margarita. Just as strong as the last two. Manny’s drinks went down a bit too easily for comfort.
“I’m curious,” Jason began, pausing to take a second swig, his expression growing thoughtful as he swallowed. “You said you don’t normally do things like this. Not to mention the fact you’re suspicious of him.” He put air quotes around the pronoun. “Why go through all this to meet him?”
“The writing,” Melinda answered succinctly before dipping her head for another sip.
“Really? The sex scenes are that good?”
She spat out her straw and tried not to choke on the mouthful of slush halfway down her throat.
“Not the sex scenes,” she sputtered. “Though, he is rather…inventive, in that department.”
Jason’s lopsided grin did strange things to her pulse.
“Inventive?” He angled toward her. “And that’s important to you?”
“Yes.” She gave him a playful shove. “In my romance novels,” she told him ra
ther primly. “But my appreciation goes much deeper than that.”
“I bet it does.”
“It does!” She laughed at his exaggerated expression of disbelief. “Seriously. He writes these great characters, especially the women. They’re smart and strong and funny…”
“They sound perfect.”
“That’s the thing, they’re not. They’re also selfish and short-sighted and even narrow-minded.”
“We’re talking about romance novels, right? Love stories?”
“Yup.” She nodded. “He might be an unreliable douche, but J. T. Wright has found a way to speak to thousands of self-centered, myopic women hoping for their own happily ever after.” She looked down into her drink, drawing slow circles through the pink ice with her straw. “I guess I’d just been hoping for a chance to thank him.”
Shrugging off her melancholy, she took a couple of healthy pulls from her straw, gulping them down in quick succession.
“Oh, no.” Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Dammit!”
“What is it?”
“Frozen brain.”
A low hissing made her crack an eyelid to take a peek. Jason rubbed his hands together very quickly. When he saw her looking, he stopped and presented his palms to her.
“May I?”
She had no idea what he planned to do but nodded just the same.
“You know, it’s not really your brain that’s frozen,” he told her gently as he placed his palms against her neck, his thumbs crisscrossing beneath her chin. “It’s a spot in your throat. But the affected tissue sends a pretty strong distress signal.” Melinda didn’t know if the pain had begun to subside, or if she’d been distracted by the way he was holding her, head slightly back, chest jutting forward, somehow leaving her feeling both vulnerable and safe. And he kept talking, his tone soothing, almost hypnotic. “I’m not sure how much this actually helps. I think it’s better to drink something hot if you can. Do you want me to see if Manny has any tea back there?”
Craving Forbidden (Craving Series Book 8) Page 14
