by Jess Dee
She clicked the remote for her car, and her indicator light flashed. Faster than he’d anticipated, her door was open and she was seated in the front, the keys in the ignition. Ben crouched next to her before she could slam the door shut.
“No sandwiches,” she informed him. “No lunch. No socializing. No nothing. You and me, we’re about work and we’re about sex. And that’s it.”
Ben frowned at her. “I’m confused. I thought you wanted me to be happy.”
She gaped at him.
“Your words. You said that. Last night.”
“When I offered you sex. I figured that would make you happy.”
“It did. It does. But I’d be happier spending time with you. Not talking about sex. Or work.” He screwed up his nose. “Nope, cut that. We can definitely talk about sex. And other stuff too.”
Melissa sighed. “Please, let’s not turn this into something it’s not. I can’t afford to be distracted now. Too much is at stake if I lose my focus. We’re sex, Ben. That’s all.”
Hell, she was closed and unapproachable. Nothing like the wanton sex goddess who wanted to know everything about him not half an hour ago. “Are we sex now?”
“No, we’re colleagues now. Period.” She didn’t look at him when she answered. Her expression was stoic, unemotional. But she shifted just the tiniest bit in her seat, and that was all Ben needed.
He placed a hand on her knee, letting his fingers inch under her skirt. “So if I moved my arm up your leg, let my hand trail over your inner thigh, I wouldn’t find you wet and wanting?”
Her cheeks turned scarlet. “You wouldn’t find me anything, because your arm is not moving another inch.”
Too late. He’d already let his fingers whisper up her thigh, already lost himself to the heady feel of silk and heat.
“Ben—”
“Have to touch you, Mel.”
“Leave me alone!” Her command was a hoarse whisper.
“Open up for me, sweetness.” The fog of desire quickened his breath.
“No. Please, go away.” But her body’s response contradicted her words. She parted her legs for him.
“That’s it.” His hand crept up over her smooth skin. “A little wider.”
She slumped against the back of the seat, spreading her thighs as far as her skirt would let her, allowing him in. It was a tight fit but worth the effort. He found her exactly as he’d hoped to. Wet and warm. Slick with desire.
“Mel, you’re killing me.”
Her response was a soft moan.
He couldn’t resist drawing his finger through all that heat, from her swollen pussy lips up over her clit and back down again. She shuddered at his touch.
“You feel so good.” Ben closed his eyes, let his hand and her soft whimpers lead him. “So fucking good. You make me want to do wicked things to you. All night long.” He played with her bud, rubbing it gently, listened to her labored breathing.
His ankles burned as they held his weight, and the muscles in his legs bunched and began to cramp, but he refused to move an inch. All he wanted now was to taste another one of her addictive kisses. “Lean in close, sweetness. Give me your mouth.”
He opened his eyes in time to see her roll her head to the side so she faced him. Her eyes were dark with desire, her lips parted.
“Closer.” His mouth was parched, desperate for a sip of her.
She inched closer. He lifted to meet her. And then her mouth was on his, and he drank from it deeply. Her lips, soft against his, her tongue, velvet warmth, her taste…intoxicating.
Mmmm.
He dipped a finger inside her, angling it just so to compensate for her sitting position, and knew in that moment, that just as Melissa had claimed she wanted to know everything about him, he wanted to know everything about her. Every single thing. From what she looked like nude to what drove her so hard to succeed. And as erotic and sexy as slipping his finger in her pussy while she sat in her car was, more than anything, he wanted to take her home, lay her on his bed and make love to her. Unhindered. Unwatched. Just him and her.
Her restless sigh and the clenching of her inner walls told him she was close. Very close.
Ben did the very thing he knew she’d hate. He withdrew his finger.
She moaned her dissatisfaction into his mouth.
He pulled away from her lips.
“Noooo.”
He clenched his hand into a fist so as not to give in to what they both wanted him to do. “Have lunch with me tomorrow.”
She swiveled her head from side to side. “Touch me.”
“Sandwiches in your office. That’s all.”
Her face was flushed. “You’re a bastard.”
“I’m not. I’m a real nice guy. Have lunch with me so I can prove it to you.”
“I don’t want lunch.”
“Honestly? I don’t either. It’s the conversation I’m after. Personal conversation. About you, not work.”
“Why do you have to make this personal? Why can’t we just keep it physical?”
“Because physical isn’t enough for me. I need more from you than just sex.”
She looked at him with big, uncertain eyes. “The…the sex isn’t good enough?”
“The sex is amazing,” he rushed to assure her. “I just want more from you than amazing sex.”
She twisted in her seat and whimpered. “I’ve given you my body. What more is there?”
“There’s a whole person in there I’d like to get to know.”
Melissa glared at him.
He swiped a finger over her clit, reminding her what she was bargaining for.
Her entire body bucked. “Fine. Lunch. But that’s all.”
“That’s all for now, anyway.” He couldn’t contain his satisfied smile. Nor could he hold back another second. He gave her his finger, rewarding her wholeheartedly for her decision. As he slid the digit inside her, he stroked the pad of his thumb over her clit.
Melissa stopped breathing.
Had the door been closed, steam would likely have misted the windows. The sounds of her pleasure filled the car, echoed through his ears, and then she was coming. Clasping his finger inside her, holding it, releasing it, the velvety walls of her pussy clenching rhythmically.
When she collapsed against her seat, spent, he pulled his hand away, brought his finger to his mouth and licked it clean, tasting her passion all over again.
A powerful shudder rocked her body as she watched him.
Ben cast her a smug smile as he stood up, stretching the kinks from his legs. “See you at lunch, sweetness.”
He leaned in, planted a kiss on her luscious lips and walked off to find his own car, parked three levels up from hers.
Chapter Six
Melissa eyed the sandwich. “Thank you, but I’m lactose intolerant. I can’t eat cheese.” How had she let him talk her into this? What had she been thinking when she’d agreed to lunch?
“You are?” Ben looked surprised. “Funny, you never mentioned that before.”
“There’s a lot I never mentioned to you before.” Grumpy. That’s what she was. Grumpy and unimpressed. Not with Ben, mind you. With herself, for giving in to him so easily. She found it almost impossible to feel unimpressed with Ben.
“Not just to me. Thought you might have mentioned it in all those business meetings we’ve had. You know, the ones where you quite happily accepted any cappuccino ever offered?”
She glowered at him. Duh. Of course he’d seen her consume milk before. “Fine. I’m not allergic to milk. I’m allergic to you.”
He settled himself in the chair opposite hers with the desk between them. A veritable feast was spread in front of her.
He raised an eyebrow. “Did you break out in a nasty skin rash? You know, after what we did last night.”
“As a matter of fact I did.” She scratched her forearm for emphasis.
“Ah, the classic post-coital itch.” He tut-tutted. “Nope, sorry. I’ve seen it before, and i
t’s not me you’re allergic to. It’s the vibrator. You might wanna try a different one next time.”
Damn it, the man was incorrigible. He wouldn’t let her win this. Ben was hell-bound and determined to have lunch with her and to make conversation. “I thought this lunch was going to be about me, not sex.”
“You’re the one who brought up the post-coital itch.”
“Huh!” She folded her arms over her chest. “I did not. I merely mentioned being allergic to you.”
Ben leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. “You know, sweetness, when your skin flushes red and your breasts and pussy swell, it’s not allergies. It’s arousal. Big difference.”
Melissa shook her head, at a loss for words.
Ben relaxed back into his chair. “And in case you’re interested? I’m suffering from a similar affliction right now. Although, to be honest, I’d never mistake it for allergies. This is one itch I’d really like to scratch.”
Her mouth twitched into a smile. How could it not? “Could you just eat your food and stop talking?”
He selected a beef sandwich on Turkish bread smothered in mustard and took a healthy bite.
“Let’s try this,” Melissa suggested. “Let’s see how long we can go without mentioning sex. I give you five minutes, tops.” Herself, she gave about half a minute. But then what living female wouldn’t think about sex when sitting opposite Ben Cowley?
“Is that a challenge?”
She shrugged. “Take it however you’d like.”
“Challenge accepted. Okay, let’s see. Work talk is out, sex talk is out. What else can we discuss?”
Melissa helped herself to a container of fresh yogurt topped with sliced mango and passion fruit. It was her favorite. “The weather?”
“A possibility.” Ben nodded. “Or you could tell me about your drive to succeed. The need to make partner.”
Sheesh, the man didn’t beat around the bush. He drove straight to the heart of the matter. “Why is it so important you know?”
“Because I was once like that. Driven by the same determination that pushes you.” He hesitated. “It cost me the woman I loved.”
His confession took her by surprise, and her gaze shot to his face. “Sienna left you because you were dedicated to your work?”
“Sienna left me because I dedicated my life to my job instead of my fiancée.”
Wow. Okay. She hadn’t known that. “You’re worried I’ll dedicate my life to my work instead of my fiancé? Newsflash, I don’t have a fiancé.” Although once she’d come close. Once. A long time ago.
“Yeah, and have you stopped to wonder why?”
“I don’t need to wonder why. I don’t want a fiancé. I want to succeed in business.” Or perhaps it was more a case of she needed to succeed.
“You have succeeded, Mel. You’re brilliant at what you do. I’ve never seen anyone better. But does your job keep you warm at night? Does it give you someone to go home to? To keep you company?”
She didn’t like his questions. Not one bit. They hit a nerve somewhere deep inside and threw her off balance. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”
“Enlighten me.”
“You’re transferring your issues onto me. Making your problems mine. They’re not. We’re different, you and I. Have different reasons for doing things. I don’t have a Sienna in my life because I don’t want one.” She had wanted one, once upon a time.
“Then tell me what you do want. No, wait. I know what you want. Tell me why it’s so important for you to succeed.”
Some things were too personal too talk about. Too hard. “It’s none of your business.”
“You made it my business when you seduced me. When you drew lines around the boundaries of our relationship. When you told me you wanted me for some things but not others. I’m only human. I can’t see those boundaries as clearly as you can. If you want me to respect your wishes and your needs, help me see them clearly. Give me a reason to keep my distance.”
She so didn’t want to go here. So didn’t want to talk about this. But she guessed she owed Ben a little insight into the way her mind worked. She wasn’t that cold and callous that she could fuck him and then refuse to speak to him. Was she?
“Okay. If it’s so important, I’ll try to explain.” But she needed to do it in terms he could understand. “Tell me something first, though. Tell me how you felt when you realized you’d lost Sienna for good, when you realized she was never coming back.”
Ben’s jaw tightened. “Why? It has no bearing on your reasons for working so hard.”
Ah-ha. So she wasn’t the only one who struggled to discuss the real, personal issues. The ones that cut deep. “Maybe not, but it’ll help you understand what motivates me.”
“Fine.” Ben dropped his gaze to the table, but not before Melissa saw a wealth of pain in his eyes. “I was gutted. Felt like a train had ridden over me, every wheel of every carriage leaving its lasting mark.”
The hollowness in his voice broke her heart. “Did…did you try convince her otherwise? Convince her not to go?”
“I changed my life trying to convince her,” he ground out. “Cut down my work hours by a quarter, changed my work contract. I gave up the very thing that had chased her away in the first place—my complete and utter dedication to my job. But I was too late. My efforts failed. Miserably.”
“I’m sorry, Ben. So very sorry for your pain.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know that, but it doesn’t mean I can’t sense how deeply you’re hurting.” Dredging up his pain wasn’t her intention, but his answer provided the common link Melissa had sought. The common bond that would help Ben understand what drove her to be the best. “You see, I understand failure. All too well. I’ve failed too. A few times. And it’s…” She hesitated, chewed her bottom lip, wondered how much to say. “It’s destroyed me. Destroyed my life. Broken me and left me with nothing.” Wow. Okay. She hadn’t expected to say that much. Not even close.
“Go on,” Ben urged.
“It’s, uh, I… It’s the fear of ever falling so far or so hard again that makes me so desperate to succeed. That’s why I have to achieve every goal I set for myself. That’s why I can’t let anything interfere with those goals. It’s why I’m determined to be the best I can be at whatever I undertake.”
Ben’s gaze was on her, intense, probing. “It’s hard to imagine you’ve ever botched anything. From where I’m sitting you look nothing like a failure. Nothing at all.”
“I’m glad that’s how you see me. I want everyone to see me like that. I never want anyone to know just how badly I’ve screwed up in my past.” Dear God. What was she saying, spouting her mouth off like this?
She’d just confessed something about herself to Ben she’d never told another living soul. Not her mother or father or even any of her sisters.
“What happened, Mel? What hurt so bad it’s turned you into the woman you are today?”
Melissa took a deep breath and forced back the words that popped into her mouth. The truth. Some things were just too hard to talk about, and she’d already divulged way too much information.
He gave her a sheepish grin. “Okay. That was a tough question. Too tough. Let’s start with an easier one. You said you’ve failed a few times. What’s the least important failure? The one that hasn’t changed your life, but you’re still keenly aware of?”
Melissa took her time, studying her hands as she helped herself to a few more spoons of yogurt.
Ah. Right there. A perfect example for Ben.
She held up a hand to him. “There you go.”
Ben stared at her, perplexed. “Your hand?”
“No, my fingernails. Look at them.”
Ben looked and still remained perplexed.
“I’m a nail-biter. Have been since I was three years old.”
“Uh. Okay.” He sounded uncertain. “So what?”
“My mother did everything in h
er power to stop me from biting them. Everything. Sent me to school with Band-Aids on every finger, put some foul-tasting polish on my nails, punished me every time she found a finger in my mouth. Even tried a star chart system, rewarding me if I went a week without biting.” She stared at her fingers. “I never did get a single reward out of that chart.”
“So you’re unsuccessful because you bite your nails?” He looked at her as if she were crazy.
“My mother would say so.”
“Would you?”
“I’d like longer nails. Prettier nails.” But on the scale of all she wished she could achieve, beautiful nails were not high up there. She chuckled at his baffled face. “You asked for my least-important failure. I’m showing you.”
“And I appreciate that confidence. Thank you.”
“You think I’m mad.”
“Nope. Not at all. We all have things we wish we could change about ourselves but never get around to doing.”
Melissa sighed. “I had a ton of things like that growing up.”
“Like what?”
She looked at him warily.
“The unimportant ones, Mel. The ones you don’t mind talking about.”
She thought about it for a while. “Well, I was a terrible netball player. Always wished I was better, but I just never quite made the team, no matter how many times I tried.”
“So you tried, knowing you were no good?”
She nodded.
“That must have taken a lot of courage.”
“Some, I guess. Or just sheer stupidity. But after being knocked back continually, I stopped trying.”
“We all would,” Ben said.
“I guess.” She breathed deeply. “I was a God-awful dancer too. Never could make it up on my toes, much to the despair of my ballet teacher.”
“Did you enjoy ballet?”
“Hated it, with a passion. But my mother was a dancer, and all three of my sisters too, and I didn’t want to disappoint them.” With that disclosure, Ben knew more about her family and her past than anyone else at work did. How on earth had she admitted so much about herself to him?
