I can’t help but sniff him: his neck is so close, and he smells so good, like a woody-citrusy fragrance, I have to kiss him. I start kissing him under his ear, going down on his neck. I kiss and suck softly on his Adam’s apple and a low grunt escapes his lips. I lean back and stare at him for a moment before leaning in and biting his bottom lip, then kissing him on the lips.
“Definitely not getting rid of you,” I say between kisses.
His eyes brighten up.
“Tonight,” I add, teasing him, and he smiles.
His hands keep roaming my body and settle on my ass.
“We’ll see about that,” he whispers against my lips. He attacks my mouth, and his tongue enters between my lips, teasing mine, wrapping around it. His kisses alone make me shiver; the feel of his skin has me turned on yet again. Apparently, I’m not the only one. I can feel his erection poking against me.
“Already?” I say, laughing.
He shrugs.
“What can I say? I’m inspired by a certain sexy brunette.”
I thrust my hips against him, wanting to play and tease him at the same time. I take off the oversized tee and throw it on the floor.
“Really?” I ask, smiling. I’m definitely intrigued. Tell me more, tell me more.
“Yeah,” he says, giving me a once-over. His eyes go down to my breasts and he caresses them before his fingers find my nipples, making me shiver again. He looks up to my eyes again.
“Yeah, I am,” he says, his breath more labored. He pushes his erection against me at the same time I rock against him.
“You see, this sexy brunette has milky skin,” he says, placing a kiss on my collarbone. “Beautiful brown eyes.” A kiss on my neck. “Long and silky brown hair.” A kiss under my ear. “And a mouth that I never want to stop kissing,” he adds, molding his lips to mine.
He runs a finger over my spine and I break the kiss, gasping for air. I reach between us for his cock and start stroking him. I kiss him again, and he grunts against my mouth. He never breaks the kiss while he lifts me slightly, pressing me to him. He stands up, lifting me with him, and then he puts me back on the bed.
“Wait here,” he says. He comes back with a condom.
“Let me,” I say. I make him sit on the bed, rip the foil packet, and start rolling it down on him. “Sit. Against the headboard.”
His eyes widen at my request and he does as I say.
If I had to guess I would say the look on his face is curious, and amused; he likes the change of pace. He likes me in charge. I feel so bold around him. I climb on top of him and position myself, lowering on his erection. His length fills me up, and I start moving up and down, slowly. I feel so much more of him this way, and the pleasure is almost veiled with pain when I go all the way.
He grabs my butt cheeks and spreads them slightly, moving me up and down on him. I am leaning on his shoulders and arching my back while we both move faster, my breasts bouncing against him. His length is rubbing my sweet spot over and and it’s driving me insane. My moans escalate quickly and I let myself go completely. I close my eyes and tilt my head closer to him. He reaches for my mouth and he kisses me, twisting his tongue around mine while we both move against each other. I feel him moaning inside my mouth and it’s the hottest thing. I cannot get enough of him as it is.
“I’m so close,” I say against his ear.
That seems to make him focus even more, so he starts moving inside of me faster, pressing his thumb on my clitoris. I sense the urgency of his movements, and I know he is about to come too. I squeeze my muscles around him as he thrusts faster and faster. A loud, final moan escapes my mouth, and he comes, with a couple of slower thrusts, shuddering inside of me, his head rolled back against the headboard. We breathe heavily for a minute, and I pull myself away to sit on the bed next to him, trying to catch my breath. He sneaks a kiss under my neck, then leaves for the bathroom. I’m still coming down from my high.
“Goodness gracious!” I mutter as I exhale, staring at the ceiling, my heart still beating fast. I can see him looking at me out of the corner of my eye as he lies next to me. He doesn't say anything, but he leans in and places a soft kiss on my cheek, tickling me with his beard. I grab his face and hold it by the jaw, running my fingers across it. His hair falls down to the side of his face. I lift myself up slightly and give him a kiss on his full, pink lips.
“You are even more beautiful than I remembered,” he says while stroking my cheek with his thumb. I eye him, a little skeptical.
“Don’t get me wrong, you were beautiful that night after the book signing, but, my God, I look at you now and I can see a certain fire in your eyes, a glow on your face.”
He runs his fingers along my shoulder, my arm, my chest, until his hand settles around my waist.
“I think you found yourself again,” he says. “The Prudence I met a few weeks ago looked a little . . . defeated. It's like you turned a new leaf . . . it must have something to do with what you’ve been writing, right? I can’t wait to read it.”
I look at him, quiet and pretty much speechless. I do feel different, he’s right, and it is because I feel more satisfied with myself, with what I believe I have accomplished in the last few days, but he is partly responsible for the change. I’m not completely sure I would have been able to turn a new leaf all on my own. I feel like he is just as much a part of it.
“You have been fueling the change too,” I say in an almost whisper, running my fingers through his hair. He looks at me for a long moment, taking in what I said. I’m afraid I said too much.
Minimize the damage, Prudence.
“But I think it's the dopamine too.”
“The what?” he asks, chuckling.
So much for minimizing the damage, Prudence.
“Dopamine. When you write or read romance novels, you are so invested in the love story, your brain releases dopamine. And while dopamine mainly works as a neurotransmitter and helps with the brain activity, it also has a series of benefits on other parts of your body. That's why you probably see the difference.”
He smiles, and he doesn’t look completely convinced by my words, but he keeps listening.
I lift myself up on my elbows.
“It’s almost like I get starry eyed, even when I’m the one writing. It's like falling in love. With fictional characters, of course. That's why people can't stop writing romantic songs or romance novels. It took me a while to figure it out, but you do get a certain rush. I don’t know if there are any accurate studies about it, but I heard several writers talk about the same thing. Apparently, it can be addictive too.”
I laugh. He looks at me like I just did some magic trick in front of him.
“At the same time, when I write the sad parts, I feel equally depressed. Sometimes I have to take breaks and just go take a walk because I feel so bad emotionally. In a way, it’s almost like your body assimilates the pain of what you are writing.”
I raise my hand to touch his face and say, “These last seven days have been pretty intense, and there were moments where I really needed to take a chapter break. I needed to stop and just walk away from it for a bit, but I was so fired up, and I didn't. In the end, it balances out. It’s definitely easier when you write stories that have a happy ending. I don't know how I would deal if I were writing dramatic stories. That would definitely take a toll on me.”
He stares at me for a few more seconds. I hope I didn’t make a complete fool of myself.
Please say something.
“How did you get so smart?” he asks jokingly.
“I try really hard,” I say, exhaling and rolling my eyes.
He is quiet for a few moments, his eyes roaming my body, and he starts running his hand over my belly, before starting to place kisses there, and at the same exact time, my stomach decides to growl. We both start laughing and I cover my face with my arm, shaking with laughter underneath him.
“Okay, time to eat,” he says, chuckling.
“Are we g
oing out or staying in?” I say, my arm still covering my face
“In. I’m not nearly done with you,” he says, smiling in such a sexy way that leaves me breathless, and the implication of his words make me lightheaded. I bite my bottom lip.
“Pizza?” he asks.
“Sure,” I respond, still in a daze. He walks off to the living room, naked, and I am left staring at his butt.
We eat pizza on the couch and watch a movie, or better yet, pretend to watch a movie and see how long we can keep teasing each other with our hands before doing it again. He is sitting in his underwear, and I have my oversized tee on, with no underwear whatsoever. I’m not even listening to any of the dialogue, because Ben’s hand is on the inside of my thigh, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my skin, slowly going up.
One hour into the movie, we are at it again on the couch. Afterwards, we spend the longest time kissing and holding each other. He doesn’t seem in any hurry to leave, so before he falls asleep, I pull him up and drag him to the bedroom. We fall asleep so fast, his arm cradling my head, my face against his chest. I can’t remember the last time I felt so at ease and so content.
Chapter 12
MY PHONE is buzzing somewhere in my room. I cannot open my eyes for the life of me. It will not stop buzzing, and then it starts ringing. An alarm. Even more annoying. Did I set an alarm? Why? What day is it? Saturday. Why would I have an alarm on Saturday?
At the same time, a raspy, sleepy voice behind me says, “Why do you have an alarm on Saturday?”
Jesus. I am just now realizing the voice comes from the man behind me, who has an arm wrapped around my waist.
“Sorry,” I mutter. I remove his hand from my waist, kiss it, and I groggily get up to find my phone. Okay, good, it’s on the dresser. My eyes are still so sleepy I can barely register anything else, but I manage to turn it off. When I turn around, I’m struck by the vision in my bed.
A beautiful, sleepy man who resembles a Greek god. Or maybe, in his case, a Viking god? He is too much. I let out a sigh. His eyes flicker open and he smiles sleepily at me.
“Come here,” he says, patting the mattress. I climb back into bed and snuggle next to him.
“Good morning. Sorry about the alarm,” I say and start kissing him on his neck and his chest.
“Yeah, what was the alarm for?” he asks, his arm pulling me closer to him.
“I don’t know. I forgot why I set it. Let me check.”
I scroll down to my alert and see “PICK UP MOM FROM THE AIRPORT” in all caps.
When I look at what time it is, I start freaking out.
“Oh my God!” My mother. I forgot about my mother visiting. I’m the worst daughter ever.
“My mother! I forgot I have to pick up my mother at the airport!”
I don't even have time to think about the fact that I’m butt naked in front of him in broad daylight. Body issues will have to wait. I have to get dressed, fast. I put on black panties and a black demi bra. Out of the corner of my eye I see him looking at me; he is sitting up in bed, his beautiful tanned chest on display, a puzzled expression on his face. I can't even look back at him. Last night was almost like a dream . . . I have no idea what’s next, and I don’t know how I should act around him.
Probably not like the nervous freak I’m being right now.
“I’m going to check on her flight. I will probably have to leave soon. I’m so sorry,” I say distractedly, leaving the room with my phone in hand to check the flight status on my laptop.
The flight is scheduled to arrive on time. I have an hour and a half before she gets here. It will take me at least forty-five minutes to get to the airport though. I need to hurry. I’m sitting at my desk in my bra and underwear when he appears behind me. He is so handsome in just his underwear. He seems to be so calm, even though if I’m half losing my mind here. I turn to look up at him. “What time do you have to be there?” he asks me.
“I have less than an hour and a half.” I need to get up. I can't think with his abs and that happy trail right at my eye level.
“You can stay here, take your time. Just lock the bottom lock when you leave.” I get up on my toes and kiss him on the cheek.
“It will be so much easier if you let me take you to the airport.”
“No, I can just hail a cab. You'd have to get your car from whatever parking lot you have it at.”
“No, I don't. I parked downstairs when I came back from the airport yesterday.”
“How did you even find a parking space downstairs?”
“I got lucky.” He smiles, implying more than one thing.
“Yeah, you did,” I say, smiling back.
God, I want to put my hands on him, again. Kiss him, and then crawl back in bed. I'll just call my mom and tell her to get a cab. He leans in and nuzzles me on the neck.
“You are so beautiful sitting at your desk in just your underwear. I will always picture you like that from now on.”
“Always so smooth,” I tell him with a smile. He can read my mind or my body, because he is on me as soon as I’m thinking I want him again.
“We don't have time,” I tell him in between kisses, my arms around his neck like my life depends on it.
“We do,” he quickly fires back, flashing his best panty-dropping smile.
He keeps glancing at me while I apply my mascara, but he groans when I put my lipstick on. I close the vanity mirror and the sun visor. I frown, looking at the road ahead to see what it is.
“What's wrong?” I ask him.
“Did you have to put lipstick on? That means I won't be able to kiss you before we pick up your mother.”
I chuckle and use the same words he used with me yesterday.
“Patience, Benjamin, patience.”
I don't tell him the lipstick is smudge proof. Let him suffer a little. After a heated and quick morning session on the bathroom counter, and an equally fast shower, I got dressed as fast as humanly possible and went through the apartment trying to eliminate any possible trace of last night’s shenanigans. I threw on a black jumper, packed the make-up that would fit in my clutch, and we came out of the building running, my heels in my hand.
Ben wasn't lying, the car really was downstairs. We are close now, and I think we are going to make it right on time. I text my mom and tell her I'm almost there, so she'll get it when she lands, if not sooner.
“You really didn't have to drive me, but thank you. I do appreciate the gesture,” I say, smiling. “You can just leave me at arrivals.”
“Absolutely not. I’m already here, why wouldn't I give you a ride back in town?”
Oh God. What am I going to tell my mom? I’m not ready for the third degree, and I am horrified at the thought.
“Just tell your mom you met me while you were trying to get a cab and I offered to give you a ride,” he says, reading my face like an open book. “Or you can tell her I'm your boyfriend. Whatever you want.”
Boyfriend, huh? Thanks for getting me out of the grey zone, Ben. If you say you want to be my boyfriend, then that's what you will be. I glance outside my window, and I cannot wipe the silly smirk off my face. I am sure that pretty soon my cheeks will hurt from smiling. My heart needs to take it down a notch too, it’s beating out of control. Calm down, Prudence.
“I just talked to her the other day and I told her there was no one in my life, so it might be a little premature. But I will ease her into that notion . . . boyfriend,” I say, grinning like a fool.
By some miracle, we even have time to park, and he comes with me. I’m a little overdressed next to him, but I know how my mom is about this kind of stuff. Plus, the fact that he is dressing super casual only reinforces the story that I met him down the street, right?
That's what I tell myself before we get in.
I stop walking and say, “Ben, wait!” He turns around and I pull him in for a kiss. He responds to it, but he is not completely convinced it's a good idea.
“It's smudge proof,” I whisp
er against his lips.
He cradles my head and kisses me again.
When my mother comes out, she spots me right away. I don't think she registers that Ben is standing right next to me. It takes her a few more seconds to realize he is not just another person waiting for someone coming out of arrivals. She looks momentarily confused.
“Mom!” I walk towards her and hug her. It's been a while, and it feels really good to see her.
“Oh, Prudence, my darling! You look well!” she tells me as she studies my appearance. She gives me another hug. I’m pretty sure I’m blushing fifty different shades of pink.
“Mom,” I say disentangling myself, “this is Benjamin Hallstrom, my friend and book agent. He gave me a ride to the airport.”
“Mrs. Clearwater, it's a pleasure to meet you,” Ben says, shaking her hand and taking her carry-on.
“Well, thank you, Ben! Aren't you a darling? So well mannered.”
“Shall we go?” he says.
As soon as his back is to us, my mother gives me a smug look.
“Let's go, mom,” I say, rolling my eyes.
We stop at baggage claim first and make small talk, and when we have her suitcase, we start walking to the parking lot.
My mother pushes me to sit in the front when we get to the Jeep, although I try to give her the best seat. We make conversation in the car, and she asks both of us a lot of questions, but seems to believe the “I just ran into him” excuse.
He asks her what we are planning to do while she is in town; she asks him about his job, my job, my next book. I gloss over the Biblio thing, just saying that Ben will help me get a better deal with another company.
Ben offers to take us out to dinner while my mother is here, and I say, “That’s very nice of you, but really, it’s not necessary.”
“Prudence!” my mom yells at me from the back seat.
“What?” I turn to him and I say, pleading, “I don’t mean to offend you, Ben, but really, it’s not necessary.”
What I really want to tell him is, can we try not to make it so obvious, please? Have dinner with my mother? Really? We just had sex last night for the first time. I have no idea what this is, and now I’m supposed to dive into it, head on?
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