Accidental Sex Goddess

by Lexi Ryan

  She thought she’d wised up since then, thought she’d accepted that she and Ben were a much better friend match than romantic one. And yet one kiss later and she was twenty-one again and hopelessly crushing on the sweet guy who said all the right things, touched her in all the right ways, and wanted nothing she had to offer.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The day Reese had met Ben, she hadn’t expected to see him again—ever. She’d done a fantastic job scaring off the sweet guy who’d shown a little interest in her. And yet he’d shown up at her door at ten o’clock at night, staring at her mouth like he’d like to lick it.

  “It’s late,” he’d said softly. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

  “Ben—right?” As if she could have forgotten.

  He nodded.

  Oh, hell, this guy was a master at sending mixed signals. His body language said he was ready to bolt but the way he was looking at her mouth was so darn hot. “Did you forget something?”

  “Yeah.”

  She waited several long heart beats then raised a brow. “What did you forget?”

  “This.” He slid his hands into her hair and lowered his mouth to hers.

  His lips were hot and soft and his thumbs stroked the edge of her jaw as she opened under him. Her hands found his chest and she curled her fingers into his shirt and tugged him closer.

  He drew back, and his eyes burned into hers. This was the way men were supposed to look at women. This was the way she always imagined feeling and never had.

  “We wouldn’t want you to forget that,” she murmured.

  “This is crazy.” He touched his forehead to hers.

  “Yeah,” she said, but she tugged his shirt again. “I’d invite you in, but that seems to scare you off.”

  He groaned and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I wanted to. I want to now.”

  His mouth was on hers as she walked backwards into her apartment. She heard the door slam, and slid her hands into his hair. She wasn’t the kind of girl to do this. She barely knew this man and she was ready to strip bare for him.

  He pushed her against the wall and found the hem of her shirt. She lifted her arms over her head and he pulled it off.

  She moaned against his mouth and tugged at his shirt, her hands sliding up and under the soft cotton and connecting with a solid wall of muscle and heat.

  He pulled back and let her remove his shirt.

  “Wow.” Her gaze was glued to his chest. Her jaw was on the floor. “You can’t be real.”

  His lips tilted up in a grin and his eyes swept over her. “Let me prove it.”

  Her stomach was doing some impressive acrobatics and everything south was nudging her to kiss him again. “I don’t even know you.”

  He rubbed a lock of her hair between his fingers. “True.”

  “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “Me either.”

  Maybe she wouldn’t have believed him. Maybe she shouldn’t have, but his eyes drifted back up to meet hers and what she saw there was more than sincerity. It was pain and desire and vulnerability all wrapped up together.

  Reese kissed him. She pushed herself up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.

  Half a heartbeat later, he had her against the wall. His hot hands tortured her breast through her bra, his mouth doing wicked things to hers.

  She wanted so much in that moment. She wanted this man, wanted his hands on her bare skin, wanted his weight on her.

  He slid his hand over her bare torso, his calloused hands rough against her bare flesh until he was cupping her through the thin cotton of her yoga pants.

  She moaned at the light friction he placed there—wanting this, wanting more.

  “You’re so damn gorgeous,” he whispered against her ear. “I’ve seen you at the bar before today and have always thought so.” He moved his mouth to her neck.

  “Why—” She gasped as he found her clit and pressed lightly. She arched to give him better access. God, this man was doing more for her through two layers of fabric than the last man she’d slept with had done skin to skin. “—why didn’t you introduce yourself?”

  “I was stupid,” he said. “But I’m trying to remedy that.”

  He dropped his head to her breast and sucked hard, drawing her nipple into his mouth through the thin satin of her bra.

  “My bedroom—” She was cut off by a ringing phone.

  “Sorry,” he grumbled. He dug his phone from his jeans and chucked it across the room. The phone silenced. “You were saying?”

  “You’re crazy.” She wasn’t complaining. “The bedroom—”

  Across the room, the phone clattered against the hardwood floor as it vibrated.

  “Voicemail,” he explained.

  “That’s not an angry girlfriend, is it?” She was joking, but he didn’t meet her eyes. She shoved him away. “You have a girlfriend?”

  He stepped back and dragged his hand over his face. “Not exactly.”

  She thumped his bare chest with the back of her hand. “This isn’t a gray area. You either do or you don’t.” She side stepped him and wrapped her arms around herself. “That’s why you wouldn’t come up earlier. That’s what your friend was trying to warn me about at the bar.”

  “Can I explain?”

  She snatched his shirt off the floor and shoved it at him. “Go.”

  Across the room, the phone beeped.

  Ben winced. “She cheated on me—”

  “So you thought you’d return the favor? Well, I’m flattered but no thanks.”

  “It’s over between us.”

  Reese found the couch and propped herself against the backside. “It’s over?”

  “Yes.”

  Silenced stretched between them until she said, “Look, there was a reason you walked away when I invited you up earlier. They say the first instinct is the best—”

  “Walking away wasn’t my first instinct,” he growled. “But it’s fresh, and I didn’t want you to be some…rebound thing.”

  She lifted her head to look at him—dark eyes, bare chest, his shirt balled up in a fist at his side. He was too perfect—the kind of guy she admired from afar. “I don’t want to be something you’ll regret.”

  “The only thing I would regret,” he said, crossing to her in two long strides, “is leaving here without kissing you again.”

  “Ben—”

  His mouth took hers and she didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to. She wanted those rough hands on her body, that hot mouth kissing her.

  They fumbled their way toward the couch, hands pushing away clothing, mouths seeking out exposed skin.

  Reese’s leg slammed into something. “Ouch.”

  “Are you okay?” He dropped to his haunches before her and ran his hands over the backs of her thighs.

  “I think the end table attacked me,” she whispered.

  “I better take a closer look.” He stared up at her, eyes hot as he found the waistband of her yoga pants and peeled them from her hips.

  Her heart tripped at the sight of him, at the feel of his hands, at the way he watched the path of the dark cotton as he slowly lowered it to the floor.

  She stepped out of her pants and stood before him in her blue satin bra and white cotton panties. These weren’t undergarments made to seduce a man, but judging by Ben’s eyes alone, she might as well have been in black lace.

  His hands returned to the back of her thighs. “Let me look,” he said, nudging her to turn around.

  She turned and closed her eyes against the sensation of his fingers trailing over the angry spot.

  “That’s going to bruise,” he said softly.

  She cast a glance over her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

  “It’s a shame to damage such beautiful skin.” He put his mouth against her skin, pressing soft kisses and making her forget the pain entirely.

  When he opened his mouth and ran tongue and lips up her thigh, she gasped. His
fingers traced the edge of her panties along her ass and under to the inside of her thighs and her fingers curled into the back of the couch.

  Her panties were damp where his fingers skimmed across them, her legs growing unsteady beneath her.

  “Turn around.” His voice was deeper, rougher than before.

  She turned to face him, looked down to him as he worshipped her body with his eyes.

  “You’re sure about this?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I’m sure.”

  He positioned her hands behind her back and held both wrists in one hand. He pressed his open mouth between her legs and found her clit through her panties. She whimpered and tried to move, but he tightened his hold on her wrists and moved his mouth against her.

  When he pulled away, his chest rose and fell with his breath. He released her wrists but kept one hand in his and led her around to sit on the couch.

  She lay down and expected him to follow. Wanted him to follow. She wanted his weight on her, his body closer to hers.

  He didn’t. Instead, he shucked her panties from her hips and sat, one of her legs behind him, one on his lap. His eyes flicked to hers—intense, hot, hungry—before returning to that private space between her legs.

  He parted her with his thumb and her back arched as the volatile cocktail of pleasure and anticipation whipped through her.

  “Come here,” she whispered reaching out for him.

  Eyes flashing to hers, he gave her a lopsided grin. “Not yet.” His fingers traced her slick folds and his gaze returned.

  He slid a finger into her—out again—slid in a second. She gasped—at his fingers moving inside her, at the look on his face as he watched.

  She was no virgin. She’d been with a couple guys, made out with more than that still. Yet, somehow, the way this man watched as he moved his fingers inside her was the most erotic experience she’d ever had.

  She felt herself edging closer to that elusive summit. Her sex squeezed his fingers, her hips moved—wanting more, more, more.

  And when he lowered her head and put his mouth against her clit, she thought she might actually—finally—come.

  Her hips lifted off the couch, allowing his fingers to slide deeper. Her breath caught and she grabbed the couch pillow in her fist. Higher and higher, he pulled her.

  “Oh, God.” Finally. God, she wanted this and she was—

  Across the room his phone buzzed and clattered against the hardwood floor, whipping her out of the moment.

  Her hips settled back into the couch, and Ben lifted his head, hot eyes finding hers. “Stay with me.”

  She swallowed hard, and squeezed her eyes shut. His fingers pumped in and out of her, and it felt good but the other—that height, that precipice—was gone from her reach.

  She couldn’t have this man, this sexy man who looked and touched her like she was a sexual goddess, she couldn’t have him knowing she was cold, that she froze up with men, that she couldn’t experience an orgasm like a normal woman.

  He lowered his mouth and took her clit again, and the pleasure was real. It was that reach beyond pleasure that was lost to her. His movements increased in speed and she knew what he wanted, what he expected.

  She squeezed the muscles of her sex around his fingers and moved her hips. The phone buzzed and clattered again and she pretended she didn’t hear it. She made all the right noises and moved her body in all the right ways. She couldn’t let this man know that she wasn’t the sexual creature he assumed her to be—so she faked it. And after, when he cupped her gently and lowered himself over her, he was smiling, as if her orgasm had been a gift.

  His phone buzzed again.

  “Someone’s really trying to get a hold of you,” Reese said softly.

  Ben groaned and pushed himself up. “I’ll go turn it off.”

  He crossed the room and snatched the phone off the floor, but as his fingers moved across the screen, he froze.

  Reese sat up. “What’s wrong?”

  “My ex,” Ben said, tucking the phone into his pocket. “I’m sorry about that.”

  Reese crossed her arms over her chest, feeling exposed. “She’s really determined to get a hold of you. Do…do you need to call her?” She’d asked because she hadn’t known what else to say.

  Ben shoved his hands in his hair and let out a long breath. “No. I’ve said everything I have to say to her. I don’t want her to ruin this.”

  “How long were you with her?”

  His jaw tensed. “Three years.”

  His phone buzzed again. “I’ll turn it off.”

  She held out her hand. “Give it to me.”

  Ben handed it over, and she opened the history of texts from “Lisa.”

  When she read what was there, her heart froze solid in her chest. She forced herself to inhale, and the air burned as she forced it into her lungs. “I’m so sorry.” She handed the phone back to him and watched his face go pale as he read the message that had been sent to his phone five times tonight.

  This is Lisa’s mom. Lisa’s been in a terrible car accident and is in ICU at Chicago Methodist. Please come.

  She heard his sharp intake of breath and her heart broke for him—this man she’d just met, this stranger who’d been touching her, kissing her, in the most intimate way only moments ago. He sunk down into her couch and she knew he’d read the last message.

  She’s gone.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ben parked his truck in front of Reese’s building and turned off the ignition. She hadn’t said a word the whole way home, and it wasn’t the good, sexy silence he’d prefer from a woman he’d been feeling up minutes ago. “I’m not sorry I kissed you.”

  Her knuckles were white where she gripped her purse in her lap. “We’re friends.”

  The words were a punch in the gut. “That hasn’t changed,” he said softly. “I don’t take you for granted.”

  “We’re friends,” she repeated.

  “Yeah,” he growled, “friends who have done a hell of a lot more than kiss.”

  She froze at that. They didn’t talk about that night. Ever. First, because he hated himself too much when he thought about what he’d been doing while Lisa was dying in a hospital room. Later, they were friends and it was easier to pretend that night hadn’t happened.

  Slowly, she turned to look at him. “We agreed we wouldn’t ask each other for more.”

  Another blow. She was going to hold him to that old promise. He didn’t ask why. Not only would his pride not allow it, he knew. He’d fucked up once, and Reese wouldn’t give him a chance to hurt her again. He exhaled slowly. “No problem.” Hell, he couldn’t blame her.

  ***

  “Dad asked me to take some time off work to help with the Granger job.”

  Ben set his jaw and turned slowly to his brother. Luke’s bar was crawling with college kids tonight, making the bar louder and less relaxing than how Ben preferred it. “I’ve got it under control.”

  Mark lifted a shoulder. “I have the time coming anyway, and I miss working with my hands. It’s no big.”

  No big. That’s how his brother described barging into Ben’s worksite and playing boss for a week. No big. He gritted his teeth. “It’s your company too. Do what you want.”

  Mark’s eyes turned hard and he stared at Ben. “I will.”

  Luke approached them with a pitcher of beer and a try of empty pint glasses. “My dish boy wanted to thank you and Reese for the show you put on behind my bar last night.”

  Ben slid quarters into the pool table and began wracking the balls. “There was no show.”

  “You and Reese?” Mark studied the pool cues on the wall. “What’s going on there?”

  “Nothing,” Ben said. He’d be damned if he was going to talk to Mark about it. Hell, he didn’t want to talk to anyone about it.

  He’d been ready see if he and Reese could make something more of the chemistry between them. He was sick of sitting on his hands, sick of pretending that their ti
me together wasn’t locked and loaded with sexual tension. He’d been ready to try and she’d been itching to end things before they began. Was she still hung up on Mark?

  He scowled at his brother. “She said you asked her out.”

  Luke thumped Mark’s chest. “She looks hot now, doesn’t she?”

  Ben growled and Luke smirked.

  Mark lifted a shoulder. “I miss having her at the station.”

  Bullshit. “Do you even know what she did when she worked there?”

  Mark leaned over the table and took the first shot, scattering the balls across the green felt. “I’m not as oblivious as you think.”

  Ben shrugged. “You just suddenly seem a hell of a lot more interested in Reese than you ever were before.”

  “Do you have a problem with that?”

  Fuck yes. “A problem with some asshole who only wants her because she got a makeover? Yeah, I do.”

  Mark released his cue and it fell on the table with a thunk. “Is that what you think of me?”

  Ben didn’t realize he was closing in on Mark until Luke pushed between them, a palm on each brother’s chest.

  “Not here,” Luke warned, looking to Ben then Mark.

  Ben’s heart hammered in his ears, and his fists clenched at his sides.

  Mark shook off Luke’s hand and backed away. “You think you know me, but you’re as bad as the assholes who listen to my show.”

  Ben clenched and unclenched his fists, as if the movement could release his urge to throw punches.

  “Who are you mad at here, man?” Luke asked Ben, squeezing his shoulder. “Him or yourself?”

  Ben shrugged off his hand. “He’s an asshole.”

  The bell at the front rang and three sets of eyes landed on Reese as she ambled through the door.

  The sight of her made all the anger drain out of him. He felt his shoulders relax and watched Mark’s do the same.

  Jesus. Mark cared about Reese. When had that happened? And how had Ben missed it?

  Mark pulled his gaze away from Reese and settled it on the pool table.

  Ben pressed his cue to Luke’s chest. “I’m not up for this tonight.” He didn’t wait for him to respond before he strode toward Reese.