Megan turned to him then, eyes wide but not, he noticed, horrified. She covered her mouth, but no one would miss her laughter.
“It’s good thinking,” the woman said. “Newlyweds come in here all the time to get each other’s names tattooed on themselves, only to come back a few months later to get them covered over because the marriage didn’t last. This way, if you don’t make it, you won’t have to get them removed, because no one but an eighteenth-century linguist will know what they say!”
“You’re absolutely right,” Megan agreed, taking Ben’s hand and pulling him with her, out of the store, which was great, because he was stuck between pissed as hell that they’d gotten the wrong tattoos and terrified because he’d have Megan on his skin for the rest of his life. Even if she was pregnant and they stayed married for a while, he was always gone. She’d leave him eventually for someone more forthcoming and more present—but how was he going to get over her if he had a permanent reminder?
“Are you okay?” she asked, stopping in front of him, taking his other hand in hers and staring intently at his face.
“I don’t know. Are you?”
She laughed. “I am. What a great story to tell our grandkids someday. I mean, even if we don’t have the same grandkids, it’s going to be a funny story about how Grandpa was pretending to be married to this woman he met, and they accidentally got each other’s names tattooed on their backs.”
Ben couldn’t help but smile, even as he shook his head. She was taking this so casually. Just another stop on the road of life. He would do well to take a few lessons from her.
“Mrs. Rutledge, you amaze me,” he told her, pulling her close and leaning in for a kiss.
He meant for it to be a simple meeting of lips, but as soon as his skin touched hers, it became more.
Her arms came around his shoulders, and she pressed against him, her soft body urging his to meld with her. He breathed in her scent and was lost to the drugging effect of her taste, the texture of her tongue, as she devoured him right back.
“Get a room!” someone yelled from a passing car.
Megan laughed, slowly releasing him, backing up, taking his hand again, and leading him back to the car. He clicked the remote to get the air-conditioning cranking and to unlock the doors, but instead of going to either front-seat side, Megan went to the hatch in the back and lifted it.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She grinned and looked around the parking lot, which was vacant and surrounded by a high white fence everywhere except the entrance from the street. “We’re gonna make sure the back seat in this thing lies down like it’s supposed to.”
…
“Here?” Ben shook his head and held his hands up like she was asking him to bungee jump off of the Stratosphere or joust blindfolded. His body, however, told another story. His pupils were dilated, and his chest rose and fell with powerful breaths. And the front of his shorts were more than a little distended.
The combination of endorphins from being tattooed and lust from making out with her husband in broad daylight made her reckless. Something had shifted inside her in the past few days. It started with the first time she sent one of her family’s phone calls to voicemail. Now all of a sudden, she was signed up for that contest and had gotten a tattoo. It was like her wild side was peeling back her skin.
She looked around. “We’re not in public. There aren’t even any security cameras out here.” She moved closer to Ben again, almost, but not quite, touching his body with hers.
He groaned and pulled her tightly against him, his big hands on her ass, squeezing, then lifting her legs around his waist even as he set her in the back of the SUV, though there wasn’t much room in the cargo area. He leaned into her, his weight holding her in place.
He was hard between her legs, but not quite where she needed him, and she whimpered, trying to wiggle under him.
“Shhh…” he said, fumbling with something over her shoulder. “I think I’ve—yes.” The back of the second row of seats released with a click, and there was suddenly room for them to move, and they did.
Megan scooted in and Ben followed, tugging the hatch as far down as it would go without an outside hand to slam it.
The Nevada sun beat down outside, but the tinted windows and powerful air-conditioning made the inside bearable, though Megan was burning up.
Ben was so tall he was almost in the front seat, but managed to wedge himself in diagonally, and Megan moved to give him as much room as she could.
He ran a hand up the inside of her thigh, skirting her crotch, and up over her stomach, finally sliding under her top, cupping her breast. He teased her, stroking, but not quite firmly enough for her nipples, which felt like marbles to her under the fabric of her bra.
Finally, he tugged the cup down and gently pinched one nipple, sensation zinging to the other breast and to her clit, which pulsed with need.
“This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done, but I’ve got to have you,” Ben muttered, kissing her, trailing his lips over her jaw to her neck and down to her collarbone, pulling the thin straps of her top over her shoulder. “Is this okay? Does your tattoo hurt?”
She didn’t even realize she was lying on it. The plastic taped over the art would protect it, and she’d gladly get rug burn on the entire rest of her body if he would just keep doing that thing he was doing.
“Yes, it’s fine. I’m…” She didn’t know what she was—desperate seemed about right. She reached for the button on his shorts, fingers thick and clumsy. “I want you.”
“You’ve got me,” he said, “God, do you ever have me.”
If only that were really true, and she could know he wouldn’t be scared off by her life. But she had him now, and she was determined to appreciate every inch of him, a significant portion of which was throbbing in her hand right now.
He’d gotten her shorts off, and one hot hand slipped into the front of her panties, just barely grazing her center until she moaned and arched, begging him to touch her fully. He slid one finger deep into her body, the rest of his hand cupping her, pressing against her.
His cock was hard and a little slick, and she suddenly had to taste him, so she sat up, dislodging his hand while she tried to bend to him, but the angle was wrong.
Finally, she turned her entire body so she could take him in her mouth.
“Jesus,” Ben cursed, his hands tight on her thighs.
She held him there, stroking him slowly, breathing him in, then swiping her tongue over him, down, up, around, and finally taking him in as far as she could while he groaned and tightened his grip on her legs.
“Fuck,” he said, then his mouth was on her, licking, sucking, biting so she could barely pay attention to what she was trying to do to him.
Damn, but he had some focus, because in moments she was tensing, feeling the gathering heat, her leg muscles cramping from her curled toes. She shook as the orgasm hit, waves of pleasure gathering and exploding through her veins, taking her whole body up and over the peak while she sucked at him as though her life depended on it.
He didn’t stop working her, and the waves began to build again, pulling her further this time, higher, tighter. She heard herself cry out at the same time he groaned and began to come, pulsing into her mouth. She took his release, held on to his thighs as he held hers, until they were both still, breathing slowly returning to normal, muscles twitching with exhaustion.
“Oh my,” she said after a few long seconds. “I think I lost consciousness there for a minute.”
He huffed a laugh, and the breath hit her tender parts, making her body clench in an aftershock.
“Quit that,” she scolded, though she didn’t really mean it.
“Did we just have sex in the middle of a parking lot in the middle of the afternoon?” he asked.
“In the middle of Las Vegas,” she confirmed, managing to force herself to sit up, gathering her clothes.
“I’m going to hell,” he said.
>
“Is that a bad thing?”
His chuckle said he didn’t think so.
Megan was about to say something else when a movement from the street caught her eye. Or rather, a non-movement. “Crap. That car’s pulling in here!”
A small white sedan had slowed and was turning in.
“Okay. Lie down and hang on.” Before she could find her panties, Ben—completely naked—was in the driver’s seat, putting the SUV into gear and moving toward the exit.
He nonchalantly raised his fingers from the steering wheel to acknowledge the other driver and turned out onto the street while Megan struggled into her clothes.
“Oh my God,” Megan said, raising her head to peer out of the back window. “Was that a cop?”
“My guess is security guard,” Ben said, cool as a cucumber.
Just then, he hit a pothole and the back hatch swung up. “Oh shit!” Megan cried. “The back end is still open!”
“Get my pants,” he demanded, pulling the car to a stop in front of Madame Diva’s.
Megan shoved his clothes between the seats and, buttoning her own shorts, scrambled out of the back end, shut the hatch, and dived into the passenger seat before the white car came back out of the parking lot and turned their direction.
The white car stopped next to their Chevy, and the driver, a middle-aged man wearing an official-looking hat, looked over. Ben, who had his shirt on, but only one leg in his shorts, nodded.
Megan’s heart stopped, sure they were about to be arrested for public indecency, but the light changed, and the white car disappeared around the corner.
“Sure couldn’t do that in a Maserati or a muscle car,” he said, reminding her of their conversation a few days ago about his choice of rides.
“Oh. My. God,” she said when they were both fully dressed, seat-belted, and on their way home. “This wedding chapel search is coming up with some interesting results.”
“One of these days we’ll have to actually go into a chapel.”
Chapter Sixteen
With one entire week of his vacation—and marriage—behind him, Ben admitted he was going to have to start visiting wedding chapels while Megan was at work. Every time they planned to go together, they got distracted—by each other, or some sort of Shuttlekrump disaster. If she was going to do any work on the contest project, he had to make sure that her free time was truly free, and not have their almost-possibly-maybe marriage hanging over her head.
Even so, it took him a few nights to get started.
The first night, the city was hit with a rare thunderstorm, and it was suggested anyone who didn’t need to be on the road should stay home. Apparently, half an inch of rain in Vegas was like two feet of snow in Memphis. The night after that, he got caught up in a ball game on TV. The night after that…well, he just didn’t feel like going out. He was a newlywed, for crying out loud. His bride was wearing him out regularly, and he needed to stay in and regain his strength.
By the time Sunday rolled around, he’d run out of excuses and had to go. He’d procrastinated some, sure. Called his mom, tagged her in a Facebook meme about nurses, then gone for a run, showered, folded another load of Megan’s laundry—he could have sworn it was the same stuff he’d folded the other day, but there it was, in the washer/dryer again. Then he’d vacuumed her apartment, making sure the nap in the groovy shag carpet was all heading the same direction.
He’d thought about texting Megan and asking if he could come sit backstage at the show. He wanted to see how it all worked and to soak up the energy her family emitted, but she’d said the last thing she needed was a guy hanging around making her feel bad about doing her job, and he didn’t want her to think he needed to be entertained.
Out of nowhere, a memory rushed him. He was standing on the porch, when they’d lived in Lexington, and his parents were fighting. Again. His dad had left and come back time and time again, but each time he left, there was a huge fight.
“I have to study if I’m going to get this nursing certificate,” his mother had said.
“You complain that I don’t do nothing, and now you won’t go?” There was a crash from inside and then, “Goddammit.”
There was more arguing. Most of it was over his head, but he thought it was about money and him. What he remembered was his mom telling his dad that she was happier without him, and that Ben didn’t need him anyway.
His dad had slammed out of the house, looked at Ben, and said, “If you want to come, you better come on.”
“I have to tell Mom bye,” he said, and ran back into the house where his mother sat crying on the couch.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. He’d never seen her cry, and it scared him.
She grabbed Ben, saying, “You’ll never leave me, will you?”
“No, I won’t. I promise,” he told her, terrified because his strong, capable mother was sobbing.
“You comin’?” his dad hollered from the front step.
Ben panicked. He’d been a shy kid to begin with, and stress made it worse. He’d been walking on eggshells most of his life, trying to make as little impact as he could to the point that he couldn’t tell anyone what he wanted. He wanted to go to that ball game in Cincinnati with his dad more than anything. They’d been planning it for weeks, and he had a brand new Reds ball cap and his glove and everything.
But Mom was crying, asking him not to leave her, and he’d promised.
Ben didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t break a promise to his mother.
“Come on.” Dad was standing on the other side of the screen door.
Ben shook his head no. He couldn’t say he wanted to go to the ball game more than anything, because he was afraid to speak. And whenever his parents had a big fight, Dad left for weeks. If he went with Dad now, he might not get to come home for a long time.
“You gotta be shittin’ me. You’re always underfoot, bugging the shit out of me, and now I’ve got time to take you somewhere you’re staying with her?” Dad turned his head and spat off the porch. “It’s just as well. You’d be a pain in my ass the whole time, anyway. I don’t know why I even try. She’s right. You don’t want me around here, either.”
No, Ben wanted to protest. Wanted to tell his dad that he did want him around, that he needed him, but he was gone.
He didn’t remember his dad being around after that, though surely that wasn’t the last time he’d seen him. But once he left, that last time, he never came around again. They moved to Memphis a few months later.
And Ben barely spoke to anyone for the next ten years.
As an adult, he understood his parents had been dealing with issues that had nothing to do with him. His father hadn’t left because of him, and he hadn’t stayed away because of anything Ben had done or failed to do. His dad had been the wrong one, not Ben. He understood intellectually, but sometimes he still froze and couldn’t say what he wanted.
Like to go to the Masquerade and watch Megan and her family at work. Especially if she might find his presence a distraction.
That was okay. He had wedding chapels to hunt down.
Finally, he couldn’t put it off any longer. He checked his list and found his car keys. He’d just gotten behind the wheel when his phone buzzed.
“Hello.”
“Hey, big guy. Whatcha doin’?” Megan.
“I’m getting ready to go check wedding places,” he said.
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. Probably that he hadn’t found it yet.
“What’s up?”
“There’s an electrical problem at the Masquerade, and we had to cancel tonight’s show, so I thought maybe…well, do you want to take a night off from more wedding chapel chasing and do something else?”
He hesitated. He wouldn’t lie to her, but the “more” part of his quest was beyond hyperbole, considering he’d yet to check any wedding places. But he would, so he finally said, “Sure.”
“Just you and me,” she said quickly. “I’ve got passes t
o the Blue Man Group, if you want to check that out.”
“The what?”
She laughed. “You’ll just have to see it to understand. Sort of.”
He should encourage her to come home and relax, to work on her projects, but the impulse to spend a date night out with her was irresistible. “Want me to meet you there?”
“Yes. I’m going to be cutting it close,” she said. “But do me a favor? Bring me a clean top? Beth’s little one horked up all over the one I’m wearing.”
He turned off the key and got out of the car. “No problem. Anything special?”
“Whatever turns you on.” Her laugh was husky and hinted of things he’d better not be thinking about while standing in a public parking lot.
He swallowed. “I’ll see what I can do. Is the baby okay?”
“He’s pretty miserable,” she said with a sad chuckle. “He’s got the flu or a bad cold or something. It’s bad enough people keep chasing him around with tissues to wipe his poor little red nose, but his tummy’s upset, too.”
Ben gave a grateful moment of thanks to Uncle Sam, and the Navy’s insistence he have his flu shots early and often each year.
They hung up, and he went back into her apartment to find her a shirt. She usually wore cute little tanks or T-shirts, and there was one in the laundry he’d folded the other day. He was kind of proud of himself for not going nuts she hadn’t put it away in her dresser and glad he knew where to look. He grabbed a pink top from the pile and carried it back out with him, tucking it under his chin while he used both hands to lock the door. The top carried Megan’s scent, even after a trip through the laundry—she smelled like cookies and sweet iced tea.
He got back in the car and put the shirt on the passenger seat. He relegated the wedding chapel list into the glove box. He’d start looking tomorrow. He really meant it this time.
…
“What did you think?” Megan asked a few hours later as they exited the theater with an enthusiastic crowd. She hoped he’d liked it. He’d seemed hesitant to come, but once she assured him that her family wasn’t going to be anywhere nearby, he had agreed readily enough.
Accidentally in Love with the Pilot Page 11
