Savage Distractions (The Love is Murder Social Club Book 3)

by Talia Maxwell

  She put the paper down.

  Benson cleared his throat. “I love you, Annie and I don’t think I can live another day not being able to talk to you.”

  “You arranged a Twoly date to see me again?” she asked.

  “And you quit Twoly,” he said and made an ‘oh well’ motion with his hands.

  “I love you back, Benny,” Annie said and she walked the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Their I love yous were their everything—their lives—their promises. What did they do after they confessed love? Could they hide now? Would they follow each other into the darkness?

  He kissed her and his hand slid down to cup her ass. A few people in the hallway made hollering noises and Benson and Annie separated, aware that they were still in public.

  “Your dad would so not approve,” Benson whispered.

  “Shut up,” Annie whispered back, and as professionally as she could, she grabbed him and ushered him into a room nearby. An empty office for counsel. She made sure the door was locked and the blinds shut. Then, silent, but powerfully wound-up, Annie opened the top few buttons on her blouse, her chest moving up and down.

  “I love you,” Benson repeated, moving forward.

  “Why?” Annie asked. She shimmied her stockings down around her ankles, kicked off her shoes, kicked off the stockings.

  “Because you’re everything I’ve ever dreamed…of,” she touched him. She dropped to her knees and licked his cock, “god, god, every good thing I ever wanted.” He didn’t want to have the conversation with her like that. He sunk down and kissed her, his pants around his ankles. “You’re worth working for…you’re worth getting better for and knowing that we can keep growing together forever. We can keep this, Annie. Us. We can. We deserve it.”

  Annie tucked her chin. Bashful and alone, she nestled into his shoulder.

  “What do we deserve?” Annie asked. She pulled her skirt up.

  “Everything,” Benson said. “Everything.” He nudged her gently with his

  cock. “Everything we’ve ever wanted…”

  “Bullshit,” Annie said and rolled her eyes. Her cheeks burned bright and honest. She sat on him; slipped right on, straddling his legs. He let out a small groan and she began to bounce and move. “I don’t have much time,” she said with a look to the door. “I think someone needs the office in like three minutes.”

  He bucked up into her and she squealed. He stuck his finger in her mouth to silence her and she sucked on him, her mouth warm and wet—and since he was inside of her, feeling the tightness of her pussy around his cock—the sucking on his finger made him speed up, thrusting harder.

  They were both close now, too close, and too far away to pull back.

  “I love you,” he said, his hands on the small of her back. “It would be lying and unethical to say anything else…but I love you…love, love…”

  It wasn’t just easy to say while his cock was inside her, but it helped.

  The secret song between them continued to play and Benson and Annie swayed to the music only they could hear. She danced on him; he pushed his hips against her and she returned the motion. A tango, a duet, together, forever. He slapped her ass quietly and it barely made a sound. The universe was playing their song; a silent orgasm, the two of them panting, sweating, gasping for breath. Benson leaned in close to her ear and put his lips against her head.

  “Everything, Annabelle. It’s worth everything.”

  He rested himself against her and wanted her to feel him. Feel his love.

  She searched for his lips and they stayed connected and conjoined, rocking on the floor.

  Her body shook and she pulled away, reeling back. “Fuuuuuck,” she said, low and loud, clenching and unclenching, shaking, trembling underneath him. And sweaty and exhilarated, they paused, slowly putting themselves back together.

  “I don’t know what that means,” Benson said with a laugh. He offered a hand and helped Annie up off he floor. They dressed quietly and quickly.

  “What do you think about starting over?” she whispered, stepping into his chest.

  “A first date?” he asked.

  Annie shook her head. “No,” she said, burying her head into his chest. “I’m done with first dates.” She looked at him and adjusted her top, clearing her throat. “I’m done with dating.”

  “Then…what do you want?” Benson asked.

  Annie sat back, leveled her gaze. She smiled and laughed and rocked forward.

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet?” she asked. “I just want you. Me and you. I’ll be fine with that for forever.”

  She looked at her watch and saw the time. Annie went to the door, but Benson stopped her. He reached up and kissed her. Deeply. And she kissed him back. And that was all they needed. His lips on hers, their moment together after quick sex in the courthouse. Make-up sex.

  “I just want you, too,” he said. “Please.” He kissed her and he put his hands on her hips and drew him into her. She wiggled away from him.

  “I’m at work,” she said again, a hint of humor in her voice.

  Benson dipped his head and opened the door to the hallway. Nobody was waiting outside like they’d feared and so nobody watched them make a show of going their separate ways.

  But after a second, he ran after her. She laughed and tried to shoo him off, but he held on tight.

  “So,” he said. “You’re right. How about we meet after work? Right after work. You and me.”

  Annie took a breath. She reached into the pockets of her skirt and pulled out a phone. “I’m in court late,” she said with a sad shrug. “Drinks would be late.”

  “Tell me when and where.”

  “It could even be midnight.” She frowned apologetically.

  Benson leaned forward and kissed the frown lines between her eyes. She relaxed into his arms and he let his kisses travel down her nose to find her lips.

  “Annie,” he said, as pointed as he could as he kissed her chin and her neck. “You tell me when and where and I’ll be there. Okay? Don’t you see…I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her lip quivered and she nodded.

  “I see,” she said. “Yeah, I see. So, I’ll call you then?”

  He nodded. “As soon as you can.”

  “So, in like an hour?”

  “Can you text me before I leave the building?”

  Annie laughed. She held his hand. “It feels good,” she said. “You and me. We feel good.”

  Benson couldn’t disagree.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Vacationing at the ranch in Central Oregon was the ultimate test. Her parents bought a mansion on a golf course and the place ran wild with grandchildren and childhood battle-scars. An addition to the family would have to first survive the ranch before winning the right to date Annie with frequency.

  She’d nixed the idea of her father offering someone permission to get married, plus she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to get married. But she knew she wanted Benson in her life for a long time, and so her father said, his rough voice leaving no room for misinterpretation, “Bring him to the ranch.”

  Mid-August they packed up a few bags and stopped at a viewpoint turn-off to fool around. Then they showed up to her family’s vacation home and walked into the dark, tiptoeing around suitcases and abandoned dishes.

  Everyone was in the pool or hot tub and the children were asleep, and Annie—tired from travel and unwilling to broach the crowd just yet—showed Benson to her room which boasted a queen bed, surrounded by 90s pop posters. They opened the window to keep tabs on the festivities below and then Benson took off Annie’s underwear, pushed her back on the bed, a baby Justin Timberlake looking down with a smirk, and nudged open her thighs with his chin.

  He licked her and she remained totally silent, his tongue found its way down and up and around, and Annie grabbed the bedpost and writhed underneath him, the pleasure building and her body responding without directi
on from her conscious brain. She bit her lip and concentrated on the explosion, and at that moment, Benson couldn’t wait any longer and he brought his head out of her groin and moved upward, grabbing him and teasing her pussy until she practically pulled him into her body like a magnet.

  She faced him and they rocked. He began to moan and she clasped a hand over his mouth, and the idea of pure silence drove him to move faster.

  “I’m coming,” she whispered and bit his earlobe and gave it a pinch.

  His body told her what his words couldn’t: he’d come as well. She rocked around for a few seconds, enjoying the feeling of him, and then she stood up, examined him—mostly clothed—she laughed. There was no way they were going to walk downstairs and try to pretend that they hadn’t sneaked upstairs to have sex first.

  “What?” Benson asked. He propped himself up on his elbows.

  “It’s just funny. Me and you. Don’t you think?

  “Is it funny?” he asked.

  Annie smiled. “Yeah.”

  “Nah,” he said. He put himself back into his boxers and zipped up his pants. “I knew I was going to marry you the first night.”

  “You did not,” Annie said and she rolled her eyes.

  But Benson stared straight at her and nodded his head. “I did,” he said. “When you made the beach turn blue…I thought…god, marry a girl who can take a night like tonight and make magic out of nothing.”

  “You didn’t say that,” Annie said and she shook her head again, her hand on the knob. “Let’s go down.”

  Benson held up his finger. He climbed up off the bed and walked over to his backpack—inside was his journal. He flipped back to near the start and scanned through the lines.

  “Here it is,” Benson said and he cleared his throat. “The day I met you.”

  “You have a journal entry of it…”

  “I have a journal entry of every day…”

  “Why didn’t I know?”

  He ignored her.

  “On the day I met you…” Benson read, his finger scanning the small print, the paper clearly worn with use—a corner bent—“…I will call her the worry girl because at first you think she’s worrying about everything. But then when she laughs, for a second, the worries float away and she is free. I want to be what frees her. It’s selfish, I know, but I do. Let me tell you why. She is air—she walks like she owns the beach and no one owns the beach, but she might. I want to marry a girl like her. A girl like Annie. Someone who is cured with a laugh and can spring the magic of the day from her fingers like it’s nothing. She walks and fireworks float from her feet—maybe the invertebrates have been able to do it for millions of years, but I have only noticed tonight with Annie by my side, so for me…only she makes the sand burn blue and bright. And for me, she’s the only one who ever will.”

  She was crying.

  He put the journal on the bed and walked over to her. “Why are you crying?”

  Annie kissed him. She longed to crawl up into his body and never leave, but she settled for kissing him, holding on to his face.

  “Because,” she said with a smile, keeping them close, “I didn’t know how much you actually loved me until right now. And…I guess you’ve loved me since then. And…”

  “And I’ll love you forever,” he said, kissing her forehead.

  Annie grabbed his hand and led him into the hallway. From downstairs she heard her mother opening cupboards.

  “Annie? You here?” she called, noticing bags.

  Annie wiped the tears on her shirt and took a brave breath. She believed him and she knew they’d be together forever, too. There was no one she would rather make the world spark for than him—and she wanted to spark forever.

  From one of the back bedrooms a baby began to cry; seconds later her older nephew stumbled from his nap, completely nude. Her mother called for her again and it was then they noticed the tween on the couch.

  “Auntie Annie and her boyfriend were in her room with the door shut,” her oldest nephew said, barely looking up from his phone screen.

  She loved him and he loved her, but that was just the start.

  The brave soul had no idea what to expect “You might want to hold your declarations until after you survived the ranch with my family,” she warned.

  But Benson only beamed. “Annie Gerwitz…your family hasn’t scared me off yet. I think you’re stuck with me.”

  Annie’s face relaxed and her smile was bright and light. “Thank God,” she said with a sigh. “In times like these, you’re exactly who I want to be stuck with.” He leaned in to kiss her, his hands on her ass, and the baby cried in the background and the nephew said, “Gross,” but Annie was perfectly happy in every way.

  Acknowledgments

  Every book is a collaboration of amazing people. Thank you to my girlfriends who have inspired me to tell the stories of kick-ass women and helped shape my view of female friendships over this past decade. You are my biggest cheerleaders from the sidelines/frontlines with me, and I am nothing without your support.

  A special shout-out to AG Henley for coming up with the “Love is Murder Social Club” title when I was wrestling around with many inferior options.

  To my beta readers, Lesley, Matthew: All your feedback is invaluable. I’m sorry I’m so bad at writing things the first time through and for sticking with me.

  To Barb at Coverinked: When the covers arrive and everything starts to come together, I get so excited. You are instrumental in seeing my vision for these couples. Thank you!

  To Murderinos everywhere! We’re smart, we’re sexy and we won’t get murdered. But we WILL hang out with our girlfriends and talk about murder until we close out a bar.

  The Love is Murder Social Club is absolutely a nod to the real work Murderinos and web sleuths are doing in their communities to help victims find justice, and because of that commitment to raising awareness and using a platform to do good, these books will add their voice to the issue of untested rape kits in our nation!

  A percentage of proceeds from the Love is Murder Social Club Series will go to the nonprofit organization End the Backlog. From their website: “End the Backlog is a program of the Joyful Heart Foundation, a national non-profit organization founded by actress and activist Mariska Hargitay with the mission to transform society’s response to sexual assault, domestic violence, and child abuse, support survivors’ healing, and end this violence forever.”

  Thank you to my family most of all. My husband for jumping on board with this series idea and for his tireless feedback and support. To my kids who are now old enough to recognize the time this writing life takes. And for each and every friend to whom I’ve neglected, so I could follow my dreams: I love you all.

  Also by Talia Maxwell

  Available Now:

  Forgotten Obsessions

  The Love is Murder Social Club Book One

  Dispatched Confessions

  The Love is Murder Social Club Book Two

  Visit www.taliamaxwell.com for buy links and to hear about new releases!

  Coming Soon…

  Books 4 & 5 of the Love is Murder Social Club:

  Brittle Illusions

  Reckless Intentions

  Follow Talia on Amazon for notifications about pre-orders for the rest of the series.

  Want to join the Love is Murder Social Club?

  Join Talia Maxwell’s newsletter for special access to subscriber-only short stories, cover reveals, and information about new books. Click here!

  About the Author

  Talia is a Portland-based writer who loves true crime stories of all types, mystery novels, romance novels, the city lights reflecting in the Willamette River and the roll of the Pacific Ocean. Rainy nights are the best to cook up a tale that combines serial killers and sexy couples. She can most likely be found eating fried Oreos at Fire on the Mountain, perusing the taps of the Beer Store, or buying stacks of paperbacks at Powell's.

  She lives with her husband, a writer
, her two children, her hound, and her one-eyed cat.

  Visit her and learn more at www.taliamaxwell.com