What Comes After Dessert

by Ren Benton

  She ran her fingers through his hair and gave a little tug at his crown that he felt all the way down in the base of his cock. “They zip in the back.”

  Clever. Lowering the zipper freed her heel but did nothing about the tight bands around her arch and toes.

  She pushed at his thigh with her perfect toes. “I could just leave them on.”

  He almost snarled his refusal at her. He’d waited too damn long to get her in a bed. Not cramped. Not rushed. Not furtive. He wanted every inch of her pressed against every inch of him. “One time, I don’t want anything coming between us.”

  She continued kneading his scalp. “Okay.”

  The shoe slid off as if sensing he was done taking crap, and the other followed suit.

  He wanted to be slow and thorough and tender. In equal part, he wanted to pin her down, possess her, leave his mark on her so everyone — especially Tally — knew she belonged with him.

  She watched him, brows slightly raised, but not gnawing her lip, not worried about the dark mood sinking its claws into him. “Something I said?”

  “No.” He surged up, arms bracketing her, jaw tight. He felt feral, liable to go at her with his teeth, and he hated it. It felt close to anger. Too many people had hurt her. He never wanted to be one of them. “I need a minute.”

  “Take all the minutes you need.”

  As if there was nothing scary about his wanting to consume her, she nuzzled his jaw and left a trail of kisses down the tight cord of his neck, drawing tension out of him like poison.

  His heavy head dropped to her shoulder. Her skin was creamy, warm, fragrant, like something decadent to taste. Not to be wolfed down but savored, celebrated, remembered as the standard to compare everything that came after.

  He touched one finger to the V of exposed flesh between her breasts, testing her skin, and applied just enough pressure to let her know where he wanted her to go.

  Testing her.

  She responded by flowing back onto the mattress, graceful and fluid even in falling. Her hands smoothed up and around his ribs, distributing heat, encouraging him to melt and flow over her. Commanding even as she submitted. Taking as she gave. Not one or the other. Everything.

  He could want and love her at the same time. Take what she offered and give her back all that he had. Be patient. Be greedy.

  With a lifetime ahead of them, they could have it all.

  Chapter 34

  When Ben’s control wore thin, Tally hoped he would finally be too horny to notice her so she could stop worrying about her hair and bra and toes and words and just enjoy what little time they had left.

  But he didn’t pounce. Any other man would have been done fucking her by now. What did he want from her? She wasn’t a mind reader.

  He rolled onto his side, propped his head on his hand, and watched her.

  Her heart accelerated to an alarming rate. “What?”

  “Go ahead and finish thinking about whatever made you seize up. I’ll be right here when I can have your undivided attention.”

  She jackknifed upright and pressed her knuckles over her scary heart. Leave it to him to notice she was blowing it again. “I was thinking about you.”

  “Obviously nothing good. Tell me so I can fix it.”

  She shot off the bed. When would he learn that ignoring her spazzing out was the key to a good time being had by all? “Why do you do this? Why do you always have to talk and... and be thoughtful?”

  And why couldn’t she be a normal woman who would love to have him be so aware and sensitive? Failing that, why couldn’t she be the kind of awful that took advantage of him without heart-rupturing terror he’d figure out she was a waste of his effort? The Wrecking Ball surely hadn’t lost any sleep over letting all her crazy show.

  “What are you afraid you’re going to give away if you talk to me?”

  All I can do is sex, and if I can’t distract you with that, you’re going to see what I really am — nothing.

  Tally Castle was an illusion crafted to please her mother, judges, audiences, men. Occasionally, for a few minutes at a time, she could pretend to be what they wanted, but it wasn’t real. She wasn’t truly what they wanted, and she was a liar for presenting herself as such.

  Ben had no clear expectations, no designated role for her to play. She never knew how to fill that space where her character should be, so he saw the vacancy where a person belonged. Unable to comprehend the void, his imagination filled in her blanks with a fantasy not even loosely grounded in the truth.

  She wanted to be that fantasy — smart, hardworking, generous, sexy, strong — but her acting ability wasn’t up to the challenge. She couldn’t emote with sincerity when the part was alien to her. She couldn’t even pretend to be the woman Ben wanted.

  Even if he left with his illusions about her intact, she had to live with herself, which was the real problem. She was afraid to give away how much she dreaded herself. “I’m becoming my mother.”

  He turned his face into the bedspread and laughed.

  She spun toward the door, the nearest escape route.

  He was there to stop her, massaging her stiff arms. “I’m sorry, so sorry, but that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You’re nothing like your mother.”

  Her fingers snapped out of her fist one by one. “Chronically dissatisfied, easily insulted, violent—”

  “Do you think she spent a lot of time worrying about how much she was hurting others?”

  That was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.

  His hands pressed warmth into her. “You’re having a hard time. You work an inhumane schedule to make sure people in this town are fed. You look out for your dad. Money’s tight. People are badmouthing you.”

  Her life sounded even worse coming out of his mouth. She hadn’t wanted him to know any of it.

  “Your mother’s only job was trying to make you famous, and if she failed, she could conveniently blame you. She never looked out for anyone but herself. Your dad and your dancing paid her way. Nobody ever talked shit about her, either because they liked Wayne or they bought her devoted mother act or they were scared of her. The only thing she had to be chronically dissatisfied about was herself, and there’s never any excuse for violence toward a child. You’re nothing like her.”

  “I can feel my face turning into hers.” It felt like a Halloween mask, all exaggerated gravity and deep crevasses.

  “That face must not like my company. I haven’t seen it.” He applied gentle pressure under her jaw with his thumb, tilting her hag’s mug up for a closer look. She felt the checkmark next to every flaw his gaze landed upon. “Nope. Still don’t. Stick with me, and it won’t bother you anymore.”

  She ducked her chin so he wouldn’t see the sudden mist in her eyes. He would only be around to save her from herself for a few days, and then her evolution would pick up where it had left off, racing to make up for lost time.

  Of course he could point out superficial differences between her and her mother. Tally wasn’t five-two, blonde, and pear-shaped, either. The areas of similarity were of the frightening variety. “The nicer people are to me, the worse I treat them.”

  “Your mother trained you to believe niceness is step one in screwing you over, so you’re always looking for the catch. A steady supply of niceness that only leads to more niceness will recondition you.”

  She couldn’t divert the accusing look her eyes fired at him. How dare he dangle a future of niceness in front of her nose? “That would take longer than between now and whenever you pack up your mom and leave forever.”

  “You could come, too.”

  For one second, she felt like Cinderella must have when Prince Charming showed up with the shoe only her foot could fill — one sparkling second of elation, followed by the crushing realization that a grubby chimneysweep had nothing to offer a prince who’d been tricked into believing she was something else.

  Unless the shoe was made of Lucite and he wanted a lap d
ance. “You know that won’t work.”

  His lips thinned. “I don’t know that at all. Enlighten me.”

  She’d been trying — chronically dissatisfied, easily insulted, violent — but he refused to listen. She picked another branch of the we-can’t-be-together tree to hit him with. Maybe he’d like that one better. “Dad needs me. Stella needs me. I have responsibilities.”

  “You have obligations.”

  She was an obligation. Her dad would get along better if he didn’t have to share a vehicle and pay a porch light tax. She was running Stella’s business into the ground. It didn’t take a genius to follow a recipe, so anybody could provide bread for the school and church and do it without alienating customers and losing money. The only reason she was allowed to continue screwing up was because her dad and Stella felt an obligation to make sure she had somewhere to go.

  Calling her out for overstating her usefulness hardly made a case for their future together, though. “What’s your point?”

  “The people in my life, my friends, my job, make it worth my while to put in the work. The work you do is completely disproportionate to what you get in return, and you’re miserable. Contrary to what your mother taught you, you don’t owe anyone your suffering. Get out of here and let them find another whipping girl.”

  She did the amount of work she did to compensate for her lack of value to anyone. “And instead of mooching off my dad, I can mooch off you? And then when you’re bored with the sex and nostalgia you brought back from vacation like a souvenir and kick me out, I’m right back here because there’s nowhere else for me to go. Except the only job I could get will no longer be available, so I won’t even be able to help with bills and Dad can pay my way.”

  Just like he had for her mother.

  He paced the narrow strip of floor between the window and bed. “Do you ever have a thought that doesn’t end in doom? A couple minutes ago, I was thinking we’d be together until we were ninety, at least.”

  He thought he’d grow old with his fantasy. “Haven’t you thought that about every woman you’ve ever been with? Surely at least your wife.”

  He froze as if he’d been physically struck when he wasn’t expecting it, hurt, confused, on the edge of apologizing because whatever he’d done to provoke it, he hadn’t meant it.

  I’m so much like my mother, I’m turning him into me. Maybe, finally, he would understand she was no good for him. “The difference between my way of thinking and yours is that mine actually comes true.”

  “No matter how much of a nudge you have to give it.”

  That was rich, coming from the pushiest damn man who’d ever lived. If he’d fucked her instead of being considerate of her stupid feelings, they wouldn’t be clawing at each other now. “You asked me to run away with you your first night back in town because of a cookie. That’s not the foundation for a relationship that lasts longer than a week.”

  “If we didn’t last, you’d do just fine. You managed last time you left me.”

  “I did not manage. If you think my life now is pathetic, you’re going to need a new word for what those ten years were like because my livelihood depending on my tits was not an improvement. I can’t function out there, either.”

  “‘Out there’ isn’t another world, Tally. The girl who takes my order at the drive-through didn’t graduate from Harvard. The guy who rotates my tires didn’t achieve his childhood dream of becoming an astronaut. Somehow, they manage to get over not being among the super-elite and live their lives, in which they make room for other people. You are no less capable of living than anyone else.”

  He was a million rungs above her on the super-elite ladder. “I suppose you’d be proud to introduce your friends and business associates to your girlfriend, a former stripper whose current career is asking, ‘Would you like fries with that?’”

  His outside voice made an appearance. “I would be proud to introduce you and watch them fall in love with you like I did no matter what your fucking job is.”

  Whenever he wasn’t getting his way, he threw around the L-word, the most manipulative word in the English language. It didn’t mean anything other than behave the way I want you to. Her father, the only person she knew truly loved her, never said it, never rubbed it in that she was a screwup and a disappointment and a burden, as if she was too stupid to know without periodic reminders she wasn’t earning his love.

  If she had to put her fate in the hands of love, she couldn’t do anything but choose the kind she’d always been able to rely on. “I have to be here for my dad.”

  “If you’re scared or if you don’t want me, fine, but do not use your old man as an excuse. He’s the one who lost a leg, and he doesn’t use it as an excuse. He doesn’t need you to babysit him.”

  She wanted to scream, I know that! I need him!

  “You already said Stella would replace you in the time it took to make a round trip to Seattle. This town doesn’t need you. This town doesn’t want you. So tell the truth about why you won’t leave it with the man who does.”

  I can’t make you happy. I can’t even make myself happy. I have a gift for making people miserable, though.

  He would argue, tell her that was her mother talking. But her mother was gone, and Tally hadn’t gotten better. She kept sinking lower and lower, and she couldn’t blame anyone but herself. She lacked the talent to live like other people.

  If he thought different scenery would change her, he would be disappointed. She would fail, and he would realize he’d wasted his time with her — time he could have spent finding someone worthy of him.

  “Say it, dammit.”

  He would be fine. He’d find someone else by the end of recess. He always had. “I wasn’t looking for anything permanent.”

  That beautiful mouth twisted. “So this was just a fling?”

  “What else?” Her voice betrayed her by turning hoarse. “You’re on vacation. The whole thing was based on the understanding you’d be gone in a few days.”

  “Liar.” He put his face two inches from hers. “I’m always too busy trying to keep my guts from spilling on the floor to tell you I know you’re a liar, but that’s the idea, isn’t it? You know the best way to make it hurt because you feel the same as I do and say whatever would make you run and hide.”

  She shook all over. Why could he see everything except what mattered?

  “You will fight with me over nothing, but you won’t fight for us. Whatever you’re protecting must be really precious. It’s sure as hell more important to you than I’ve ever been.”

  He didn’t slam the door on his way out or peel out of the driveway like he couldn’t get away fast enough. His departure would have been easier if he took his anger with him like that. Instead, he left it in the room with her, where it continued to use her heart as a punching bag.

  She slid down the wall to sit on the floor. She was going to lose him anyway. She had just saved time getting to the inevitable. Life could get back to normal now.

  She sat there, motionless, cold, numb, telling herself to breathe in and out until the truck chugged into the driveway. Then, she stretched out an arm to close the bedroom door and turn off the light to fool her dad into thinking she would be able to sleep.

  She was still sitting there when the alarm went off.

  Chapter 35

  When Ben’s mother came into the kitchen to make her Friday morning coffee, he was hunched over the kitchen table, head cradled in his arms. He collapsed there when he came in the house and hadn’t budged since.

  “Too drunk to entertain your girlfriend last night?”

  He wished he could blame it on alcohol. At least there was a program for that. “No.”

  She filled the pot at the sink. “What are you doing with yourself today?”

  “I’m going home.”

  She slopped water over the lip of the pot and swatted the faucet off. “I thought you were staying at least until tomorrow.”

  What would be the point
? He had nothing to offer either of the women he loved that would entice them away from this ghost town. He had never been a quitter, but sometimes the clock ran out and he lost. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  She set the pot on the counter. “What did you do, Ben?”

  She sounded like she expected the answer to involve a body stinking up the trunk of the rental car, which wrung a weak smile from the numb lump where his face used to be.

  For giving him hope this rotten feeling wouldn’t last forever, he moved his leaden limbs over to her, put his arms around her, and kissed the top of her head. “I love you. If you’re happy here, that’s good enough for me.”

  She tipped her head back to examine his face and didn’t like whatever she saw. “Sit down.”

  He did as he was told, which was easy when what he wanted was no longer an option.

  She pulled another chair close beside him. “I want you to live your life.”

  “You’re a big part of my life, like it or not. I hate it that all we ever do now is fight.”

  She rested her elbow on the edge of the table and rubbed her morning-bleary eyes. “We fight because we worry about each other, and it comes out like we don’t trust each other to do what’s best for ourselves.”

  “I only want you to be happy.”

  “If force of will could create happiness, we’d both be ecstatic.” She dropped her hand to cover his. “But we all have to make choices, and a lot of those choices aren’t the happiest ones, just what we think is right to do at the time.”

  It seemed like a good idea at the time was his theme song. Every broken bone. Every afternoon in detention. Every bad relationship. Every time he asked for a place in Tally’s future.

  It seemed like a good idea at the time.

  His mother squeezed his fingers. “I would love to live close enough to you to see you more than once a year. But you have your job and your friends and your women, so it’s not like I’d be spending every day with you. Finding new things to fill the rest of my days is work I don’t want to do right now since I already have a full life here. I have my own friends and my own job, and those are my kids to feed.”