Dirty Little Lies (Dirty Little #2)

by Cassie Cross

  “Yeah?”

  I nod. I’m absolutely sure about this. “Yeah.”

  He picks me up, bumping his shins against the tiles on the coffee table, sending them toppling down to the floor. I hang onto him tight, pressing my body against his.

  He kisses me through his smile, and when I lean back to get a look at his face, I say, “What are we doing?”

  Even though he’s laughing, I can feel him hard and insistent against my thigh. I give my hips a little thrust, which makes him groan.

  “There are still a few places we haven’t had sex,” he tells me matter-of-factly.

  “You’re supposed to christen the rooms when you first move in.”

  He takes my earlobe between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug. “It’s never too late.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  It takes a while—so long, in fact, that I’m pretty sure our real estate agent is only hanging on for her potential commission—but Ben and I finally find a place in the perfect location. It’s a remodeled loft in a lovely old building that’s halfway between his office and the studio that Felicity and I like to schedule shoots in.

  It feels like home the moment we step inside. It’s modern, but not sterile, with room enough for the two of us to have our own spaces if we need them. There’s also “room to expand,” as the real estate agent so helpfully informed us. Repeatedly. That room to expand comes in the form of two extra bedrooms on the main floor that Ben and I have pointedly avoided talking about, other than deciding that we’d furnish them both as guest rooms.

  Furnishing the new place was the first test of our relationship. Finding pieces that we both like—Ben with his modern taste, and me loving more classic things—was a challenge, but we made it through.

  The final step is actually moving, which so far has been a nightmare. I hate it even under the best circumstances, but today we’ve been dealing with lost boxes, and delayed trucks. The moving company finally got it together, and we’re almost, finally done.

  The place is littered with boxes, and the movers still have a few more to bring up from the truck. I’ve been holed up in my office all morning, figuring it was best to get started on something, and being in the loft would keep me far enough from the action on the main level that I wouldn’t be in anyone’s way.

  My back is starting to cramp from the workout I’ve been putting it through today, so I stand up and stretch. The loft looks out onto the living room below, with floor-to-ceiling windows that usually have a lovely view of downtown.

  It’s overcast today, and with the lights on inside, the windows are covered with reflections. I’m surprised when I look down and see Ben sitting with Caleb at the dining room table. I had no idea he was coming over, and want to go down and say hello.

  It seems like forever since I’ve seen him, and I wonder if Mia is here, too. I haven’t seen her since the last time we met for coffee, which was just before Ben and I went to closing on this place.

  I pad down the stairs, across the foyer, and into the dining room. Ben and Caleb are so engrossed in conversation that they don’t even notice that I’ve entered the room. When I get close enough to the table, I can see over Ben’s shoulder, and notice that he’s holding a ring.

  A diamond ring.

  A diamond engagement ring.

  It’s both ginormous and classic. Totally huge, but not gaudy.

  “That’s gorgeous,” I say, without even thinking. I didn’t mean to intrude on their conversation, and I definitely didn’t mean to comment on the ring out loud, but it’s not like I can take the words back now.

  Caleb startles at the sound of my voice so badly that the chair actually moves.

  “Marisa,” he says, sounding relieved. Like maybe he was expecting someone else.

  I walk around the side of the table, and take a seat next to Ben.

  “Am I interrupting something?” I ask stupidly. Of course I am; anyone with a working set of eyes can see that.

  Ben’s looking over at me, and I’m looking at Caleb, who’s the one holding the ring now. He has it gently clasped between his index finger and thumb.

  When I catch sight of the way that Ben is looking at me, there’s a momentary flutter in my stomach. Just a flash of a thought that maybe I’m living in a world where that ring is meant for me. But the way Caleb is holding it—like it’s the most precious thing in the world—makes me realize that the ring is for Mia.

  “May I see it?” I ask.

  Caleb gives me this dopey smile as he hands the ring over, delicately placing it in the palm of my hand.

  It’s platinum, with an emerald-cut diamond, and tiny diamonds set all around the band. Simple, but elegant. Just like Mia.

  “It’s perfect,” I tell Caleb, as he lets out a long sigh of relief. “She’s going to love it, and she’s going to say yes.”

  “You think?” He looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin, like he just wants to chuck whatever plans he’s made to go home and ask her already.

  “I don’t think,” I reply with a smile. “I know. She’s going to say yes.”

  “I hope so.”

  I look over at Ben, who is watching me with an intensity that I can’t quite get a read on.

  “It belonged to my mother,” Caleb says, as I hand the ring back to him.

  I know a little bit about Caleb’s tragic backstory, and how his parents died. He holds everything he has left of them close, so giving this to Mia is everything. Just because of that, I know how sure he must be that what he has with Mia is forever.

  “Your father had amazing taste,” I tell him. “You aren’t just carrying this around with you, waiting for the right time, are you?”

  “No,” Caleb replies, shaking his head. “Of course not. I just got it sized, and…”

  “Wanted some moral support?” I ask.

  Caleb smiles. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “When are you going to ask her?”

  “Tonight,” he tells me.

  There’s a nosy part of me that wants to ask him what he has planned, but that’s an incredibly private thing, and I don’t want him to read too much into my reaction to whatever it is he’d be willing to tell me.

  I’m surprised that Ben’s still sitting there quietly. I don’t think he’s said a single thing since I sat down. I figure that must mean that I walked in on a private conversation, so I decide to give the two of them their space.

  “Well,” I sigh, as I stand up. “I just thought I’d come down and say hello. I’m going to go back upstairs and finish unpacking.”

  As I walk around the side of the table, I slide my hand along Ben’s broad shoulders. Before I let go, he reaches up and clasps my fingers, giving them a little squeeze.

  “I’ll come up and help once we’re done here,” Ben says.

  I pat Caleb on the back. “You’ll give us a call or send us a text when she says yes, right?”

  Caleb beams at me like he’s the happiest man in the world, and he hasn’t even gotten an answer to his question yet.

  “Yes,” he replies. “Of course.”

  “Okay. I guess we’ll hear from you later.” I give him a playful wink, and then head back upstairs.

  * * *

  I’m shelving the very last of my books on my impeccably organized bookshelf when I hear Ben clearing his throat.

  I look back, and he’s leaning against the doorframe like some kind of GQ model, looking completely unfair. We’ve been hauling boxes all day, but somehow he still manages to look like he stepped out of the pages of a magazine with his low-slung jeans and incredibly nice t-shirt that stretches perfectly over his broad chest.

  Seeing him like this—relaxed in a place that we own together—gives me the warmest, indescribable feeling in my chest.

  “Need any help?” he asks.

  I shake my head. He’s giving me all the help I need just standing across the room looking like he does.

  “I’m almost done here. Is Caleb gone?”

/>   Ben smiles. “Yeah, he’s gone. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him move that fast.”

  I laugh lightly. “It’s pretty cute that he wanted to stop by and talk to you before he went and popped the question.”

  “I won’t tell him you said that.”

  “What?” I ask. “Is there something wrong with being cute. I think you’re cute. I mean, along with other stuff. But cute is definitely one of them.”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think Ben was blushing as he smiles down at the floor.

  “Sorry you walked in on that. He stopped by at the last minute, after he picked up the ring from being resized. I didn’t have time to tell you, and I wasn’t sure when you walked up if you thought…”

  He trails off nervously, and I want to ease his mind about what my expectations are now.

  “If I thought you’d be careless enough to sit at our dining room table holding an engagement ring that you meant to give to me?”

  That gets a smile out of him. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “I didn’t think that,” I lie. Then I think better of it, because the two of us make it a point to always be honest with each other. “Well, I thought that for a split second. A fraction, just…the tiniest part of a second, however big that is.”

  That confession is enough to make him push off of the doorframe and stand up straight.

  “You did?”

  “Well, sure,” I say with a shrug. “Any girl who walks into a room and sees her boyfriend holding a ring like that…her mind is going to go places.”

  “Good places?” His eyebrows are raised, and his hands are shoved in his pockets. He looks so earnest and young that it makes my chest ache.

  “Pleasant places,” I admit. “Very nice places.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

  “I’m not. I wasn’t expecting you to propose to me, Ben,” I explain, quickly letting him off the hook for whatever scenario he’s convinced himself that I’ve worked up in my mind.

  He crosses the room in three long strides, and wraps is arms around me.

  “But if I want to propose to you?”

  I smile against his chest, resting my hand right over his erratically beating heart.

  “If you want to, then when the time is right you will. Although I’m going to do my best to test your resolve by making you come with me when I go shopping for all new gadgets for our kitchen. If I don’t bore you to death first, then you can decide if you want to marry me.”

  The air between us is charged for a moment, full of the wonderful possibilities that the future might hold for us.

  “I don’t know,” he says, before pressing a kiss against my head. “Nothing is usually boring when I’m with you.”

  I smile, then tilt my head up and give him a kiss.

  * * *

  With my office all set up and settled, I decide to tackle the living room next. I pick a box completely by random, which turns out to be a bunch of old pictures that I’ve had packed away since before I moved into my old place.

  It’s nice to go through some of the memories. There are pictures of Ben and me from when we were in college, ones that I figure are safe to bring out now that we’ve started a completely new life together. There are photos of me with other friends I made throughout college, and some with people I met after.

  About halfway through my walk down memory lane, I come across a picture that I had completely forgot existed.

  It’s in an ornate gold frame, the kinds that my mother loved to decorate the house with, but were too gaudy for my simple tastes. Inside is a photo that was taken when Corinne and I were still kids. Corinne is in a short sailor dress, smiling with a huge gap where her two front teeth were missing at the time.

  My mom’s hands are on Corinne’s shoulders, and I’m hanging off of my dad’s back, my arms draped over his shoulders as he holds me up by my hands. I’m resting my head in the crook of his neck, and we’re smiling just like any other family.

  I wonder how many crimes Mom and Dad had committed at that point.

  I stare at the picture for a long time. It’s difficult for me to take my eyes off of it. It’s a good memory tainted by the terrible things Mom and Dad have done since, and it feels like a lifetime ago.

  Sometimes it’s difficult to reconcile how quickly things can change. You can go from friends to enemies in a second, lovers to exes in no time at all. One day you can be a family, and the next day you’re not.

  “Hey,” Ben says, pulling me out of my thoughts as he sits down next to me.

  He smells clean, like he just got out of the shower, and he’s wearing these sweatpants that somehow manage to not leave much to the imagination.

  I turn the frame over, even though I know that Ben has seen what I was looking at. I only ever talk about my parents with Corinne; it’s a subject that Ben and I seem to avoid at all costs. I’m sure he doesn’t want to do anything to set me off, and I don’t ever want to talk about them anyway.

  They’re still awaiting trial as far as I know, and that’s about the extent of my knowledge of them. My lawyer updates me every once and a while, when we go in for a meeting about the legalities of my company. Other than that, I studiously avoid reading anything about them at all. They call occasionally, but I’ve since blocked their number. They’re not really in the news anymore, but that will probably change when they go to trial.

  “Hey.” Ben has his hands planted behind him on the hardwood floor, and he’s leaning back, his legs crossed at the ankles.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  I nod. “Yes,” I whisper.

  “You sure? It might be taboo.” Ben’s eyebrows are all scrunched together, like they always are when he’s thinking hard about something. And his lips are pursed, too.

  “We live together now, Ben. Our underwear goes in the same laundry basket. I don’t think there’s such a thing as taboo between us now.”

  Ben laughs, and his whole demeanor changes. “No, I guess there isn’t.”

  “So ask away.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever make up with them?” He nods toward the overturned frame sitting on my lap.

  It’s something that I think about a lot, late at night when I’m tossing and turning and can’t seem to get comfortable lying in Ben’s arms. I don’t know that I can ever trust them again, and that’s an important part of a relationship with anyone, whether they’re a parent or just a friend.

  Being with Ben has taught me that I have a huge capacity for forgiveness, which means that no door is ever truly closed with me. Or, it isn’t where my parents are concerned. Not yet, at least.

  “I’m not sure,” I admit. “Right now? No, I don’t think so. A few years from now? Who knows. I can’t shut the door on it completely. It’s difficult for me to do that.”

  Ben gives me a wistful smile. “I’m thankful for that every day.”

  I lean over and kiss him. “I’m thankful for that, too. I’d be missing out on a lot, otherwise.”

  “That’s true,” he says, slinging his arm around my shoulder. “Can you believe we own a house now?”

  “Our names are on the deed like a couple of grown-ups,” I tease.

  “And it’s our first night here, you know.” Ben gives me a long, slow, lust-driven kiss.

  He reaches up and starts unbuttoning my shirt with one hand. I look down at how nimble his fingers are. “Bless physical therapy.”

  We both laugh, but mine quickly dies down when he slides his hand beneath the placket, and cups my breast. I sling my leg over his thighs, and straddle him, tilting my head to the right to give him more room to work his mouth across my neck.

  His raspy stubble scrapes my tender skin, and I rock against him, all hard and insistent, right where I want him. I reach down and cup him through his sweatpants, picking up the pace as he thrusts up into my hand.

  With all the buttons undone, Ben pushes my shirt off my shoulder, and lowers his mout
h to my nipple, taking one between his teeth, and then moving on to the other.

  I slip my hand beneath the waistband of Ben’s sweatpants, sliding my hand up and down his erection. His kisses become less focused as he loses himself in sensation, and he surprises me when he reaches back and lifts his shirt up over his head.

  Gently clasping my wrists, he brings my arms back to wrap around his neck, then his hands slide down along my spine, pulling me closer to him until my breasts are pressed against his chest. Ben’s hands guide my hips, giving us both the friction we both want so desperately.

  When I can’t take it anymore, I reach over for the condom I noticed laying right next to his hip.

  I pick it up, tapping the edge on my bottom lip.

  “You planned this,” I tease, carefully ripping the packet open.

  “Oh, I hoped for it,” Ben says, before leaning down and licking a stripe along the underside of my breast. “You chastised me for not christening all the rooms in my old place until I was ready to move out. I wanted to do things right this time.”

  “Ah,” I say, grinding down on him until his eyelids flutter shut. “Is this the sexual version of carrying me across the threshold?”

  “I also carried you across the threshold. But yes.”

  He rolls his tongue over my nipple, and I temporarily lose my train of thought. Then I remember the condom in my hand, and the ache between my legs that only Ben can soothe.

  “Lose the pants,” I say.

  Ben tilts his head back and laughs, then does exactly what I asked. I waste no time getting naked too, and Ben’s in such a hurry that he takes the condom from me, foregoing all the foreplay of rolling it on that we usually engage in, preferring instead to get down to business.

  I lift myself up on my knees, then sink down onto him. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, it’s everything it’s always been between the two of us.

  We kiss as our bodies rock against each other. His hands never stop moving, like they’re trying to memorize every inch of me by touch alone. His grip eventually settles on my hips, and I let him guide my movements as I stop thinking and feel.