Turkey was supposed to make people sleepy.
Jessica sighed, feeling somewhat betrayed by all the turkey-hype. She’d had two turkey sandwiches and still couldn’t sleep. The glass-topped coffee table also held half a cup of hot chocolate, an empty mug with a used teabag in it—decaf of course—three-fourths of a cup of now tepid milk and a glass with only a drop or two of wine left in the bottom.
So far, the wine was winning for taste but she was still wide awake. In fact, she was so wound up that she didn’t know if she’d ever sleep again. She was however, very full.
Hot sex, figuring out she’d fallen in love, getting arrested and pacing hospital hallways all without any food was a great way to work up an appetite if nothing else. But she should be exhausted too.
The knock on her door made her jump. It was a quarter to nine in the morning. She didn’t think the paper boy knocked or that any of her neighbors would be asking to borrow anything at this time of the day, but she was thrilled at the idea of having another human being to talk to and something to do other than try to convince herself to sleep.
When she opened the door, Ben was standing on the other side of her threshold, his hands braced on either side of the doorframe, his head hanging.
He looked as tired as she should have been.
He was dressed again in the T-shirt and jeans he’d worn on their night out.
“Hi,” she said, stepping back to let him in.
He didn’t move right away. Instead he just looked at her, his gaze roaming over her face. She got nervous.
“Ben, are you…”
“He’s okay.”
It took her a moment to understand what he’d said. “Mario?” she asked. He nodded. “I was asking about you.” She reached out and took his hand, pulling him into her apartment. “How are you?”
“He woke up with left-sided paralysis. They did a CT scan and found a subdural hematoma. Steve Borchers went in right away. He’s stable again.”
He headed toward her living room without her.
She followed him, trying to keep up with what he was saying. “Ben…”
Ben slumped onto her couch, tipped his head back and covered his face with his forearm.
Jess stood in front of him, her knees mere inches from his, hands on her hips. “And how are you?”
Of course, she cared about Mario and his status. But Ben had told her about that and it sounded good. And Ben was here. If things were too touchy he would have stayed. Besides, Sam was at the hospital and he would have called if anything terrible happened.
Ben leaned forward, grasped her hips and pulled her toward him until his forehead rested against her stomach.
Surprised, she slipped her fingers through his hair, her palms resting against the warmth of his skull, and waited for him to speak.
He drew in a deep breath. “He’s stable, but barely. To go back in so soon…and on his head…damn.”
Her chest throbbed. For Mario. For Ben. This was hurting Ben so much too.
“Do you see why I hate my job?” Ben asked, still not moving. “Why did you have to pull me into this?”
But he didn’t sound or act angry with her, and he continued to hold her as if he needed her comfort.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her throat tight. “But if you hadn’t already been with me, I would have called you. I would have needed you there.”
And having him here now made it painfully clear that it wasn’t because he was a doctor. She’d wanted him there because he could make her feel better just being in the room with her. Ben would do anything in his power to make things right in the world. He was a warrior, a hero, a fighter. That’s all she needed. Not the victory necessarily, but the man willing to do battle for the right reason.
Ben rubbed his forehead back and forth against her abdomen, his hands still splayed on her hips, the gentle but firm pressure keeping her against him. She became aware of how thin the cotton of her pajamas was. The heat from his hands spread and her stomach tightened as she felt the hem of her pajama top pull up as he rubbed, exposing a strip of skin about six inches wide.
“I don’t want to talk medicine right now,” he said hoarsely. “I want to forget all the bad stuff. Just for a while.”
She felt his breath on her skin a millisecond before she felt his lips. He kissed her three times along the waistband of the pajama pants and she reflexively tightened her fingers against his head. He must have understood the invitation to continue.
Her eyes slid shut as she felt a lick along the side of her belly button.
“You taste as good as you smell,” he murmured against her skin.
Her breasts tightened, the nipples prominent under that soft cotton. If Ben looked up he would see how much she wanted him. But he seemed content to trace the bottom edge of her ribcage with his tongue.
The power his mouth had on her was incredible.
She wanted to strip off every stitch of her clothing—then start on his.
“Ben, maybe we should talk about what happened and how you’re feeling.”
His lips hardly lifted from her skin. “You’re not a damn psychiatrist, Jess,” he growled. “I’m not here for psychoanalysis.”
“What are you here for?” She knew, even as she asked. He needed a distraction, an outlet. Could she sleep with him for those reasons?
Absolutely. If she could make him feel better, in any way, she’d do it. Not that there weren’t perks to being his therapy right then. His hands and lips were hot on her and she, too, wanted to do anything but talk.
“I want to feel good. I want to forget that there’s any pain or disease or sadness, even if it’s just for a while.” He looked up at her with a wanting she had never seen, even in her fantasies. Because what he needed from her was so much more than physical.
His grip on her hips tightened. “I did the hero thing and now I want to be the bad guy.” He ran his chin over her bared stomach now. The roughness of his stubble sent goosebumps skittering in every direction.
“You’re overdressed, Dr. Torres.”
He paused, as if surprised by how easily she’d agreed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever taken my clothes off for anyone who addresses me as Doctor.”
“Then maybe there will be a few firsts for you too,” she replied. She really, really wanted that to be true. It was silly, and probably impossible, to think that she might be Ben’s first anything, but she was sure she would do anything he wanted her to if he told her she was the first to ever do it.
His eyes darkened. “I have a feeling everything about being with you will be a first for me.”
She so wanted that to be true. She loved this man and she wanted all of this to be as special and wonderful and earth-tipping for him as it was for her.
Ben grasped the front of her pajama pants and tugged, pulling her forward and onto his lap. Then he slid his hands under her pajama shirt and swept it up and over her head. His hands cupped her breasts and he kissed her deeply, his mouth and fingers both moving slowly and sensually on her.
Eventually, he tipped her over and then rolled her beneath him, his body fitting against hers perfectly. As he pressed into her, Jessica arched up.
“I…” She caught her breath as he moved against her. “I…”
He slipped his hands under her buttocks and lifted her more firmly against him.
“Ben, I love you,” she gasped, pulling away from his mouth.
Ben froze, his heart pounding so hard he could barely hear over it.
“What did you say?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
She kissed him. “I love you. And though the circumstances seem to prove otherwise, it’s not just about the sex.”
She loved him. His heart stopped pounding. In fact, it seemed to stop all together.
Then a rush of heat that was passion and relief and joy and amazement and probably a tiny bit of fear streaked through his body. Just when he thought Jessica couldn’t do anything else to make him want her more…she went and f
ell in love with him.
“Say it again,” he told her gruffly.
“Um…” She paused, her lips hovering over his left shoulder.
He bent his head and kissed her neck. “Say it again, Jessica,” he whispered against her ear.
“I love you, Ben.”
He shuddered and closed his eyes, replaying the words in his mind twice. “Okay, darlin’,” he said, pushing himself up and off of her and then pulling her to her feet. “Let’s see if we can make it to a bed this time.”
Jessica led him down a short hallway to her bedroom and he nudged her to the edge of the bed. Once she sat he swept her pants from her, then shucked out of his jeans, and rolled a condom into place. He gently pushed her to her back and knelt on the bed between her knees but looked into her eyes.
“Say it again, Jessica Leigh.”
He slipped her panties off. She rolled her head back and forth on the comforter. “Ben, this isn’t fair.”
“But it’s very, very fun.”
“Ben, please…”
“Just say it. Three little words. And I’ll be sure that you’re happy you did.”
He stroked a finger over her clitoris, relishing the bucking of her hips.
“I love you, Ben.” Her voice was softer now. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
Ben pressed forward as she was still telling him the sweetest words he’d ever heard.
A few minutes later, they both came with fast, furious climaxes, calling each other’s names.
“Tell me again,” he said before even catching his breath.
“I love you,” Jessica said, snuggling close. “I love you.”
After three days of waking up in Jessica’s bed, Ben was completely addicted. But waking up from a sound sleep at four-thirty a.m. to hear Jessica talking to another man in the next room was not something he wanted to become a habit.
On his way out of bed to see what the hell was going on, Ben rolled over and inhaled deeply of Jessica’s scent on the pillow next to him. He’d never been with a woman who smelled so good all the time. Then again, there were a lot of things about Jessica that were a first for him.
For instance, this whole waking up thing was different with Jessica. He hadn’t truly slept deeply in years. His study and test schedule in medical school had made for screwy sleeping habits and in Africa things like strange nocturnal animals, the occasional detonation of rebel explosives and middle-of-the-night medical emergencies kept him from sleeping deeply. Then, of course, the crazy hours of being an ER doctor kept his system perpetually out of balance.
But with Jessica he’d slept. For the third night in a row.
Ben sat up on the side of the bed, amazed at how good he felt. Oh, the sex was unquestionably a part of it, but this had been a deep, restorative, dreamless sleep that he suspected had even more to do with the woman who had lain beside him.
And who was no longer lying beside him.
He heard male laughter from the other room and scowled. A woman having another man over just after making love to Ben was a definite first. While Ben was still naked in bed in the next room.
Ben was still zipping his pants as he stepped into the living room.
The first person he saw was Jessica.
Of course.
They could be on opposite ends of Times Square in New York City on New Year’s Eve and he knew he’d still find her, even if he didn’t mean to.
It was like he had radar for her.
She was sitting in her wide, overstuffed chair, in a silky, peach-colored short robe, her feet tucked underneath her, looking tousled and sleepy, but smiling…like she’d spent the better portion of her normal sleeping time having amazing sex instead and she was simply too relaxed and contented to do anything more than sit and smile.
Something very male and primitive inside of Ben reared its head at the sight.
That contented, exhausted-but-happy look was because of him.
He wanted that to be her everyday look from now on.
And it could be.
She loved him.
Her words replayed in his head and it was all he could do not to walk over to her, pick her up in his arms and take her straight back to bed.
Or drop his pants, pick her up, pull her robe to one side and sit her right on his lap—and newly invigorated erection—in that chair.
Guest or not.
Who happened to walk in just then.
Of course, it was Sam.
Ben leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, nearly knocked over by the fact that hearing Jessica say she loved him, even in his memory, was as much an aphrodisiac as the hooker boots. Even now, three days after she’d first said it—and he’d made her say it repeatedly since then—it still almost knocked him on his ass.
He slid his hands into the front pockets of his pants, pulling the fabric away from the evidence of how affected he was physically. When Jess and Sam looked over they’d be able to tell right away that he was ready to go. At least they wouldn’t be able to see how affected he was emotionally.
“You know, your sister might have had sex on that couch.”
Ben was very entertained watching Sam catch himself halfway into sitting on the couch. He balanced the plate in one hand, somehow keeping the bacon, eggs and pancakes centered, and his coffee cup in the other, only a few drops slipping over the edge as he quickly straightened, almost losing his balance backward.
He moved to set his plate and cup on the coffee table and Ben said, “She might have had sex on that too.”
Sam froze with his plate only inches from the table surface. He glared at Ben, then glanced at the breakfast bar between the living room and kitchen.
“Is there any place in here that’s safe?”
Ben shrugged. “I can’t kiss and tell.”
The throw pillow that Jessica had been leaning against hit Ben directly in the stomach. “Ben!”
He grinned. “What? It’s Sam. You can’t be embarrassed about sex in front of Sam. He’s done everything embarrassing and degrading that you can think of.”
“See, now this is the disadvantage to spending time with my brother’s friends,” she muttered. “Way too much information.”
“You’re embarrassed?” Sam asked.
Jessica scoffed. “No.”
“Then why’d you hit me with the pillow?” Ben asked.
“Because I would never have sex on that coffee table.”
“Too risqué?” Sam teased.
“Too rickety. That table would never hold up under the sex Ben and I have. We need big, sturdy surfaces.”
Both men stared at her for several seconds, mouths hanging open. Then Sam started laughing.
She frowned at him. “What? We could have gotten hurt on that table.”
Ben was positive then and there that he had never liked another woman as much as he liked Jessica. He laughed too, a true, from-the-gut laugh, using abdominal muscles he hadn’t used in far too long.
“And by the way, all of the aforementioned surfaces are fine for eating,” Jessica informed her brother.
Sam raised a suspicious eyebrow at Ben but set his plate down on the coffee table.
Ben laughed and pushed away from the doorway. “I said she might have had sex there.”
Sam looked from his sister to Ben and then to the hallway behind Ben. “Thank goodness she’s having it somewhere.”
More of his coffee sloshed out of his cup as she hit him in the stomach with another throw pillow.
“Hey!”
“Sit down and eat,” she ordered, but she was smiling.
“Or better yet, take it with you and eat it in the car,” Ben suggested as he moved toward the kitchen, fully intending to help himself to pancakes.
Sam settled himself on the couch, retrieved his plate, crossed his ankle over his opposite knee, and stuck his fork in his pancakes.
“Oh, I’ll have this gone by the time I leave.”
“Which will be when?” Ben raised his vo
ice to ask from the kitchen.
“After I eat,” Sam called back.
Ben rolled his eyes as he put four pancakes onto a plate and slathered butter and syrup on them.
He poured coffee and went back into the living room.
“What did you say you were doing here?” Ben asked.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Sam. Sam just wasn’t Ben’s favorite Bradford. He especially wasn’t Ben’s favorite naked Bradford. And Ben had a strangely strong urge to spend a lot of time naked.
“Eating breakfast,” Sam said around a mouthful of eggs.
“You have an apartment,” Ben said, sitting on the arm of Jessica’s chair. She shifted so that her shoulder was against his thigh and he smiled at the casual yet obvious contact. She wanted to touch him as much as he did her and strange as it seemed, this touching was enough. It didn’t have to be sexual to be pleasurable. Interesting.
“My apartment doesn’t have eggs.” Sam said. He chewed said eggs, then added, “Or pancake mix.”
“Or bacon?” Ben asked, amused.
“I have bacon. But I’m out of coffee.”
Ben laughed and handed Jessica his coffee cup so he could cut his pancakes. She sipped from the cup before cradling it in her hands and Ben felt warmth spread through him at the intimacy he felt at the action. It was just coffee. Her mouth hadn’t even touched the same part of the cup’s rim. But he felt stupidly pleased by this strange, almost tangible feeling of contentment and happiness, sitting in Jessica’s living room, with her and her brother, his best friend, sharing breakfast and giving Sam a hard time that Ben knew Sam would take in the affectionate, if slightly put-out, way Ben meant it. Put-out only because he was less than fifty feet from a bed that was still rumpled from his making love to Jessica and he could easily put a few more creases in the sheets before the sun came up.
But he was content to sit here too, and have coffee and talk and just be. It was as new to him as waking from a real sleep, but Ben knew he could easily come to crave this. Even after the last few days at the hospital with Mario, he still felt good. He could deal with Mario’s condition if he knew that he could come here and relax—another relatively new concept to him—even laugh and later hold Jessica.
Just Right: The Bradfords, Book 1 Page 26
