Accidental Sex Goddess

by Lexi Ryan

  “Halie gave me a horrifying chunk of cash and explicit instructions on what to do with it. I’m supposed to wear sexy underwear at all times.” She sighed. “And it’s come to my attention that I’m not so good at identifying what’s sexy and what isn’t.”

  Or Madame Sex Goddess isn’t, Ben thought. Yeah, Halie was clueless. There was nothing wrong with panties that showcased a woman’s ass like those did. But apparently she wanted something different. Something more overtly sexy.

  He pulled onto the exit ramp and changed lanes, heading downtown. Swallowing hard, he asked, “Are you asking me to help you pick out underwear, Reese?”

  “No,” she said.

  Ben exhaled, his shoulders dropping. His threshold for that kind of torture wasn’t—

  “I’m asking you to help me pick out panties, bras, and nighties.”

  He groaned audibly and hit his turn signal. “In return, you’ll model them for me, right?”

  She smacked his arm. “No.”

  “That’s just not fair,” he said. “What’s in it for me?”

  “You’re the one who talked me into doing this, Benjamin Hawk.”

  “I told you to fake it,” he said.

  “Well, I’d rather not have to fake having enough panties to get through the week, so this is happening. Anyway, you told me you wanted to help me through the program.”

  “I was thinking less shopping buddy and more strip tease instructor.”

  ***

  Ben was taking this mission very seriously. She’d suggested the mall and he’d vetoed the idea and driven to Corrella’s Closet. The high-end boutique was known for its sexy designs and rich fabrics, and once they were in the store Ben surprised her by being perfectly comfortable surrounded by women’s lingerie. He flirted with the staff and handled the garments with confident care.

  “This stuff is so expensive,” she hissed. It wasn’t news to her. She’d contacted Corrella’s about being a sponsor for the ball precisely because of how expensive her wears were. Somehow the prices meant something different when she imagined spending it on herself.

  “Good thing you’re not paying, then.”

  She peeked at another price tag and gaped. “Wouldn’t it be better to use the money to—I don’t know—feed a small country?”

  “Black,” he said, handing her a black lace underwire bra.

  It was gorgeous. She imagined he was used to seeing beautiful bras like this on the women he dated. She frowned. “It’s not practical. I couldn’t wear it under most of my clothes.”

  He grunted. “It’s perfect.” He looked at her, and her face must have given her away because he sighed. “Come here,” he said softly, taking her by the wrist and directing her toward a full-length mirror in the back of the store.

  He stood behind her, both of them facing the mirror, and held the bra up in front of her. “Picture this,” he said softly, his breath brushing her ear, “with that dark hair of yours falling around your shoulders.”

  He trailed off. In the mirror, their gazes met. A rush of something unexpected shot through Reese and tension pulled between them. The decision to ask him had been impulsive and spurred more by guilt about her recent avoidance than by good sense, but here she was, bonding with her best friend over sexy lingerie.

  “Beautiful,” he said softly.

  “You two are just too cute!” The sales clerk screeched, breaking the tension. “Molly,” she said over her shoulder to the other clerk, “don’t you just love it when couples shop together. I love it. It’s so sweet. Don’t you love it? Have you found everything you’re looking for? Is this for an anniversary? A special night?”

  Reese, snapped from her daze, turned to the woman. “Oh, we’re not—”

  “Not celebrating anything in particular,” Ben said turning and putting his arm around Reese’s shoulders. He grinned. “I just wanted to do something special for my wife here.”

  Reese forced a smile but nudged Ben in the ribs. “My husband really enjoys this kind of thing,” she said. “You know, fashion, beauty tips, shoes. He’s one of those—” She wrinkled her nose as if trying to find the word. “—metrosexuals?”

  But that didn’t shake him. He just winked at her and…pinched her ass.

  “Ben!”

  He grinned. “What, sweetie?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You are bad.”

  His lip twitched. “Do you think my wife and I could get a dressing room?” he asked the sales clerk without taking his eyes off Reese’s face.

  “Ben, they don’t allow people to be in their dressing rooms together—”

  “It’s okay,” the clerk said, chuckling. “Our rooms are private.” She summoned them with a wave of her hand before disappearing into a small doorway at the back of the store.

  “Come on, baby,” he said.

  Reese’s cheeks burned as she followed Ben to the dressing rooms.

  “Here you go,” the clerk said, opening a door. “Anything else I can get you?”

  Ben nodded and passed the lace bra he’d been holding to the sales woman. “I’d like one of these in red and pink and the matching panties.”

  “Thong or bikini cut?” the clerk asked him.

  Reese propped her hands on her hips. She was right here.

  “Oh, she definitely needs both.”

  “Wise man.”

  “We’ll also want to try those sheer white nighties and the black and pink lacey corset thing on display at the front.”

  Reese’s eyes widened. “Ben,” she hissed.

  “The merry widow?” the peppy attendant said. “Absolutely.”

  Reese closed her eyes and groaned. When she opened them, Ben had settled into a chair in the dressing room, leafing through a magazine like it was his flipping home away from home. “What are you doing?”

  “Helping,” he said without looking up at her.

  “Ben,” she hissed.

  His lip twitched but he didn’t look up at her.

  “You’re punishing me for making you do this, aren’t you?”

  “Why don’t you tell me your little secret and I’ll go easy on you.”

  Reese stilled, swallowed. “What secret?”

  “The reason Halie thinks you need her program?”

  Her shoulders relaxed and she let out her breath. “Not gonna happen.”

  Miss Peppy returned with an armful of lace, satin, and chiffon, saving her from further interrogation.

  “I grabbed a couple other items I thought you might like too,” Miss Peppy said.

  “Put them over there,” Reese said, pointing to the changing room across the narrow hallway. “You know, so the reveal is more dramatic,” she lied.

  “Killjoy,” Ben called after her as she pulled the door closed.

  In the dressing room, Reese froze. That was one big pile of sexy, and she felt like it was sizing her up. She narrowed in on the merry widow. Might as well put that one in the discard pile from the start. She couldn’t imagine she’d ever wear—

  “Start with the merry widow,” Ben called.

  The way he said it made her pulse kick up. Okay, so it was sexy. Ridiculously sexy. Meet your man at the door and never make it past the foyer sexy. And she was a little curious—

  “If you plan on making your way to the essentials, you better get moving because panties will be the last items we pick out.”

  She bit her lip and pulled off her clothes, shimmying into the merry widow. Her eyes widened when she turned to the mirror. Okay, so…yeah. Definitely hot.

  The piece accentuated her narrow waist, and it must have had magical powers because it lifted her small breasts in a way that created cleavage, and made her too-wide hips look like something that belonged in a centerfold, not on a treadmill.

  Suddenly, she was struck with the ridiculous desire to open the door and show herself to Ben. To let him see the piece he picked out. On her.

  Her mouth went dry as she imagined his response, his eyes running over her.

>   Seek opportunities to give and receive pleasure.

  Well, why the heck not? He’d seen her in less.

  She opened the big wooden door.

  “So?” she asked.

  Ben’s head snapped up from the magazine and his eyes went wide before he moved them down the length of her body and slowly back up. “That one,” he said softly. “I don’t give a damn what else you get, but you’re getting that one.”

  A smile tugged a Reese’s lips, a rush of pride and pleasure—and something else she’d rather not examine—rushing through her.

  She slipped back into the dressing room, pulling the door shut behind her.

  She leaned her head against the wall and took in a shaky breath.

  “Hey, Reese,” Ben called through the door.

  She peeked her head out. “Yeah?”

  “Either your phone is trying to let you know you have a message or you left your vibrator in your purse again.”

  She coughed. “It’s probably just Halie. I sent her a text earlier to tell her step three was in progress.”

  Ben frowned. “What was step three?”

  “Underwear shopping,” she mumbled.

  Ben grunted. “I see. You really are just using me to get through your program.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Hell, no.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Halie had told Reese to bring a friend. She’d said she’d send a driver. She hadn’t said the driver would be in a limousine or that they would spend their day being served and pampered like royalty.

  “Thanks for coming with me,” Reese said when they were settled into chairs for hair and makeup. They’d already had massages, facials and pedicures, and after hair and makeup, they’d move on to shopping.

  “Are you kidding me?” Masey said. “I should be thanking you. This is amazing.”

  Resisting the urge to squeal, Reese grinned. “I know, right?”

  “Tell me how the program’s been so far.” Masey sipped at her glass of champagne as someone worked on her highlights.

  Reese frowned at her reflection. The stylist was combing some color into her hair—“for dimension”—and wrapping it in foils. Reese looked like she was trying to protect her brain in case of alien invasion. “There hasn’t been much to it,” she admitted. “Actually, I’m really surprised how easy it’s been.”

  Masey grinned and leaned back in her chair. “Well maybe you’re a natural.”

  Reese snorted. “Hardly. I have a feeling we’re just warming up.” She dropped her gaze to her champagne flute and the bubbles gathered against the curve of the glass.

  “Okay, if things are going so well, why do you look so glum?”

  “I told Ben we needed space, that I thought we spent too much time together, that we’re too familiar for friends.” She frowned. It sounded ridiculous, even more so when Masey remained silent. “Physically, you know? I’m going to start dating, and we have to think about the impression we give people.”

  “People, like Mark?”

  Reese shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Masey swallowed audibly. “What did Ben say?”

  “He said I was dumping him and he wouldn’t let me. He said he’d help me get through SG 101 and prove we could be friends and date other people.”

  “He wouldn’t let you?”

  Reese nodded. “Then yesterday I went lingerie shopping with him. At Corrella’s.”

  Masey raised a brow.

  Reese looked at her hands. “And I might have modeled a particularly sexy merry widow for him.”

  “But it was completely platonic, right?”

  Reese lifted her head to see Masey’s skepticism written all over her face. “I know. It’s ridiculous, but I think he might be the best person to help me through the program.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m comfortable with Ben.” She bit her lip. “It’s not like we’re making out or anything.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “As long as we’re honest about what we want and don’t want, who are we hurting, right?”

  Masey nodded slowly, her expression blank. “Have you convinced yourself yet?”

  ***

  When Reese walked into the PitStop Sunday night, she didn’t just turn heads, she broke necks, and Ben wanted to break something on every man looking in her direction.

  Unfortunately, his brother and Luke would have to be first in line.

  She was hardly in the door before Mark sauntered toward her, taking her hand and running his gaze over her like he was inspecting a new car. “Christ almighty, look at you.”

  “Reese, is that you?” Behind the bar, Luke let out a low, smooth whistle.

  Ben’s gut knotted. She looked gorgeous and put-together and sexy. Her chin was up and her eyes were bright. Her hair floated in soft waves around her face, drawing attention to her full lips and big brown eyes. And her outfit? Just unfair. A fitted skirt hugged her excellent ass and was topped with a shirt she’d left unbuttoned past her collarbone. Ben’s fingers itched to finish the job.

  He wanted to tell her to go back to how she’d been before. And at the same time, he wanted to press her up against the nearest wall and show her just how inappropriate he could be.

  Reese’s cheeks blazed, but she looked Mark in the eye as she said, “I clean up pretty decent, huh?”

  She only revealed her discomfort in the way she cut her eyes to Ben, and he doubted anyone else noticed. He was the safe one, he realized. She was uncomfortable with the attention and she knew Ben was safe. Did she know he had a dick?

  Mark looked her over—head to toes and back. “That Sex Goddess woman works wonders.”

  Wrapping an arm around Reese, Ben pressed a kiss to the top of her head. At Luke’s cough and the quirk of Mark’s lips, Ben realized he’d unconsciously delivered a message to every man in the bar: Mine.

  Reese sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. “You like it?”

  Ben’s heart pumped harder, faster at the way she looked at him—as if his answer was the only one that counted. Oh, yeah, she was perfectly aware he was a man.

  Her big brown eyes were lined, making them look bigger than ever. Her lips looked plumper than usual, covered with some sort of shiny stuff he wanted to lick off. “Yeah.” The word came out gruffer than he’d intended.

  She smiled—really smiled—for the first time since she’d walked through the door. “Really? You don’t think I look like a fraud? Or like I’m trying too hard?”

  He stepped back so he could see her. Now it was his turn to run his eyes over her, to take her in one delicious curve at a time. With a resigned sigh, he shook his head. “Sorry.”

  She frowned. “Sorry?” She propped her hands on her hips. “It can’t be that bad.”

  He held up his palms. “Sorry. I’d tell you what I think but you’d find it inappropriate and tell me you can’t be my friend anymore.”

  She smacked him in the stomach with the back of her hand.

  Side stepping another swat, Ben shrugged. “I’m trying to save our friendship.”

  “You’re so bad.”

  If being bad made her smile like that, he didn’t intend to be good anytime soon.

  Luke passed a beer to her over the bar, and she said, “Tell me what you think. Seriously.”

  Ben let his gaze drop to her mouth and waited a heartbeat. “I’ll do you one better,” he said softly so no one else would hear. “Meet me in Luke’s stockroom and I’ll show you.”

  “Okay,” she said, looking at her beer. “Point taken.”

  ***

  “Look at you!” Halie crooned when Reese walked into the office on Monday morning. She clapped her hands. “You’re gorgeous!”

  Reese looked down at her fitted skirt and heels and couldn’t help but agree. Her makeover had been an amazing experience. She’d expected it to leave her feeling inadequate, but instead she finally felt good in her own skin—perhaps because her skin had been massaged, exfoliated, emulsified, and moist
urized.

  After they left the spa, they’d gone shopping. Halie’s “style expert” had given her a chance to pick out her own clothes, but it became quickly evident that Reese was a lost cause. She always avoided fitted clothes because she thought they were only for svelte women, but Halie’s stylist had shown her how much better the right fit flattered her curves.

  “Thank you,” Reese said. She knew she was standing taller this morning—and it wasn’t just the heels. “I know you’ve spent a lot of money on me and I’d like to pay you back. I don’t have it all now, but—”

  “Stop right there,” Halie said, holding up a hand. “First, I won’t hear of it. I lost the two most important men in my life, and it sucked, but now I have more money than God. I console myself by using that money in ways that make me happy—that means treating women like you. Second, the fact that you want to pay me back shows you’re coming around.” She shrugged as if she was picking up the tab for drinks and not a whole new top-of-the-line wardrobe. “That’s payment enough.”

  The phone on Reese’s desk buzzed. She flashed Halie an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. We should talk more later, but I need to get that. I have half a dozen phone calls I’m expecting this morning.”

  As she backed out of the room, Halie called, “Don’t apologize. That’s why I hired you.”

  Reese snatched up the phone. “Reese Regan, SGI.”

  “SGI? Is that what you’re calling yourselves now?” The crackly voice bespoke a woman with a 60-year-old pack-a-day habit. “What? Ashamed to use the real name?”

  “Mrs. Wisenowitz,” Reese said into her receiver, “so good to hear from you.” Mrs. Wisenowitz was the director of a senior center near Ben’s parents. The woman had no filter and an opinion about everything.

  “You always say that, but if you miss me so damn much, you should come visit. You know where I work.”

  “You’re right, Mrs. W. I should visit more often, but I’m not calling about me. I’m calling because my boss wants to start a Sex Goddess for Seniors class and I wanted your thoughts on it.”

  “I’m not so old that I don’t have any tricks up my sleeve, Miss Regan. Sex Goddess classes for seniors,” she huffed. “Like we don’t know how to shake it.”