Bennett (On the Line Book 2)

by Brenda Rothert

  “You’re much smarter than she is.”

  “I’m crazy about him, don’t get me wrong.”

  James arched his brows in agreement. “As well you should be. He’s like a mythical creature. Hot, sexy, and sweet. That’s a tough combo to achieve.”

  “Not hard for you,” Brian murmured. He leaned over and kissed James softly.

  “You two are adorable,” I said, smiling. “I guess what I’m saying is I don’t want to rush things. I love things between Bennett and me. We’re happy. We need to enjoy this.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “No. But I guess I need to.” I stood and started collecting dishes from the table.

  “You sit down,” Brian said. “We’ve got the cleanup. It’s the least we can do after you made us such a great dinner.”

  “She made apple pie, too,” James said.

  Brian smiled and finished off his wine. “You’re too much, Charlotte. I adore apple pie.”

  They loaded the dishwasher together, trading kisses every minute or two. A sudden pang of longing for Bennett made me pick up my phone and check the game score on his team’s page.

  They were down 3–2. I wished I was there watching. It felt awkward to fangirl over my own boyfriend, but I really, really wanted to. I typed out a message to Bennett.

  Me: I should be there watching you play right now. I miss you. Can’t wait to see you tonight. xoxo

  Brian slid a plate of apple pie in front of me.

  “Yikes, that’s a huge piece,” I said, taking the fork he handed me.

  “I can put some back if you want.”

  I looked up at him, my brows drawn together. “No, I was just saying that so I look less piggy. I’m eating it.”

  “You enjoy it, girl.”

  They both ate their slices of pie without much conversation, but I caught several looks and smiles between them.

  “So, I think we’re gonna head out now,” James said, adding their plates and forks to the dishwasher and starting it. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I stood and gave Brian a hug. “It was so nice to meet you.”

  “You, too. Maybe you and your boyfriend can come over to my place for dinner next time?”

  “Sure.”

  They headed for the door, and I peeked around the corner at them. James had his hand resting on Brian’s ass. They were going to Brian’s to get it on, and I was a little jealous. After yesterday, I doubted Bennett and I would be doing anything but talking tonight.

  I settled in on my couch with some peanut M&M’s and Law and Order. I was on my third episode when a knock at my door made me throw off my blanket and rush to the door.

  When I opened it, Bennett was standing there in a charcoal suit with a pale blue dress shirt and a red tie loosened at the neck. He raked his gaze down my body and stepped inside.

  “Got your message,” he said in a low tone, loosening the tie some more and then pulling it off and tossing it onto my couch. “I couldn’t wait to see you, either.”

  I swallowed and latched the dead bolt on the door, nervous anticipation making me warm all over. I could tell from his tone that he wanted more than conversation. I did, too. I wanted it badly.

  He took off his suit jacket and laid it over the back of the couch, still eye-fucking me. It was surreal to have this effect on a sexy, muscled athlete while wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

  “Are we okay?” I asked in a rush. “I mean, yesterday . . .”

  “We’re okay. Come here.”

  I approached him, expecting to sink into his big arms and get one of the hugs that whittled away all my stress and uncertainty. Instead, he reached out and ran the backs of his fingers over my cheek and down to my jawline. He grazed his thumb lightly across my lips. The look of intensity in his eyes was making my breath short and shallow.

  “Undress for me, Char,” he said in a low tone. “Go slow. Torture me.”

  He sat down on the arm of the couch, already wearing an expression that bordered on a smirk. There was no arguing with him right now. This was apparently his way of reminding me that I was not always in control when it came to us.

  And damned if I wasn’t already wet from the reminder.

  I moved a few feet from the couch and gripped the bottom of my T-shirt, slowly pulling it up past the black satin bra my breasts were spilling out of and then over my head. I felt a pang of self-consciousness over my elastic waistband maternity jeans, but then Bennett put a hand over the bulge in his pants and I flushed with arousal instead of embarrassment.

  It was my first time doing anything close to stripping for a man, and I didn’t have a clue what was sexy. I’d have to wing it. I trailed the backs of my fingers over my breasts the way he’d done to my face just a minute ago. Bennett sucked in a breath and gripped the erection pressing against his suit pants.

  I slid my thumbs beneath the waistband of my jeans and eased them down past my hips. Bennett’s gaze followed the path of my hands down to my thighs. He stood and offered me a hand so I could step out of the jeans on the floor, then sat back down.

  “I’ve been fantasizing about this,” he murmured. “The curvier you get, the hotter it makes me.”

  I licked my lips and turned my back to him, reaching to unclasp my bra. When I glanced over my shoulder, Bennett’s lips were slightly parted, his eyes wide with anticipation.

  Sliding the straps down my shoulders, I wiggled out of the bra and turned around. Just as Bennett’s eyes locked on to my bare breasts, I tossed my bra at his face. He grabbed it with a low note of laughter.

  “You’re in for it now, baby,” he said, stroking his shaft through his pants.

  I smiled and wiggled my hips as I slid down the panties that wouldn’t stay over my belly anymore. As soon as I stepped out of them, Bennett stood and came to me.

  He put his hands on my hips and turned me around slowly, my back to his chest. Then he raised my arms up until they were beside my head, my fingers brushing against his stubbled jawline.

  “Just like that,” he said in my ear. “Leave your arms up.”

  He ran the backs of his hands down the sides of my bare body then, the sensation making me moan softly. My eyelids slid closed as his palms made slow, easy circles on my nipples until they were hard and desperate for more.

  Then he brushed my hair over one shoulder and lowered his face to the bare one, trailing kisses from my shoulder to my neck. He cupped my breasts and squeezed just enough to make me moan again.

  “Oh God, Bennett,” I whispered, letting my head fall back against his shoulder.

  His erection rested against the crack of my ass as his hands slowly explored every inch of my skin. The feel of his suit against my naked body was heaven. I pressed my hips back against him, needing more.

  I got it when he slipped a finger inside me and groaned his approval. He kissed my neck as he circled his wet finger over my swollen clit.

  “Enjoyed stripping for me, did you?” he said in my ear.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  He cradled the swell of my belly in his big palm and then stepped back.

  “Kitchen,” he said, taking my hand and leading me in.

  I gave him a puzzled look, wondering why he hadn’t said “bedroom.” I was wound tight with arousal, feeling warm and needy all over.

  “On the table,” he said, unbuttoning his dress shirt.

  Oh. On the table.

  I slid my bottom up onto the edge and wiggled back a little. Bennett unfastened the last button on his shirt and then undid his suit pants, pushing his boxer briefs down to the floor with them.

  His smooth, rock-hard erection made me instinctively spread my legs a little farther. A corner of his mouth tugged up as he stroked himself and then put his hands on my knees, holding them apart.

  I leaned back on my hands as he pushed into me.

  “Shit,” I moaned. “So good.”

  He put his hands on my hips, holding me in place as he rocked into me o
ver and over. When his lips found mine, I tugged his lower one between my teeth frantically.

  The building sensation inside me was powerful and deep. I let my head fall back, feeling both lost and found as every thrust of his hips brought me closer to the edge.

  When I looked up and saw Bennett’s expression of pleasure, his lips slightly parted and his forehead glistening with sweat, I fell into a spiral of deep, heady satisfaction. He groaned loudly and I cried out his name as we came together. For a few seconds, he stayed buried deep inside me as he kissed me soft and slow.

  I let out a breath as he pulled out of me, waves of bliss still rolling through me.

  “Incredible,” he said softly.

  “It was.”

  The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly. “That, too, but I was talking about you, baby.”

  “You’re pretty incredible yourself,” I said as he lifted me down from the table by the hips. “You put other men to shame.”

  I felt a stirring in my belly, followed by a couple steady thumps.

  “Oh!” I reached for Bennett’s hands and pressed them to my bump. “Just wait.”

  There were two more thumps, and his eyes widened as a grin spread across his face. “I felt it. That’s him kicking?”

  “Yes.”

  He closed his eyes and left his hands in place, feeling our son’s movements for a full five minutes until they stopped.

  “That was . . . wow,” he said, still smiling. “That’s our boy.”

  I cradled my belly for a few seconds, feeling perfectly happy. Bennett put his boxer briefs back on and looked around the kitchen.

  “Is that apple pie I smell?”

  “Yes, I made one. You want some?”

  “Hell yeah. I’m starving.”

  “You give me that shirt and I’ll give you the pie.”

  He slipped out of his unbuttoned dress shirt and passed it to me. I put it on, taking in the scent of his cologne as I buttoned it. By the time I was done, he was already at the kitchen counter with a fork in the pie.

  “So good,” he said around a mouthful. “I didn’t know you could bake.”

  I couldn’t help admiring the lines of his tall, muscular body that were on display as he ate the pie in his underwear. Stripping, kitchen-table sex, and post-orgasmic pie were all part of a new level of intimacy for me. And I liked it.

  With a yawn, I took a bottle of water from the fridge. “You ready for bed or do you want to stay up and watch SportsCenter?”

  “Watch it in bed?” he asked with another mouthful of pie.

  “Perfect.”

  “I’m about to eat this whole pie.”

  “Go right ahead.” I kissed his apple-flavored lips. “I’ll meet you in bed.”

  We were okay. He’d said the words earlier, but now I could feel it. And in this moment, it felt like all was right in my world.

  Bennett

  I pushed open the curtain to my stuffy bunk and looked out into the darkened interior of the bus.

  “How long does it take to change a tire?” I grumbled to no one in particular.

  “They couldn’t find the right size,” Liam said, not looking up from his phone.

  I exhaled heavily and flopped back down onto my sweaty bunk sheet. The flat tire on our team bus meant I’d be getting home at nine AM instead of six AM. I wouldn’t be able to see Charlotte before she left for work.

  It was midnight now, so I texted to let her know.

  Me: Bus had a flat. Took three hours to change. Won’t be home til 9 now.

  Charlotte: Damn.

  Me: I know. Miss you.

  Charlotte: Miss you too. Great game tonight.

  Me: Thanks.

  Charlotte: How are you?

  Me: Okay, I guess. Tired.

  Charlotte: Try to get some sleep.

  Me: I can’t. The air’s off on the bus and it’s about 90 degrees in here. Smells like sweaty balls and armpits and Killian’s snoring in the bunk under mine.

  Charlotte: Gross.

  Me: Yeah. These long bus trips are getting old.

  Charlotte: They’re all pretty long.

  Me: Exactly.

  Charlotte: You’ll be able to sleep when the bus is rolling again.

  Me: I can’t stop thinking maybe it’s time to move on.

  Charlotte: Move on from me???

  Me: Never. I mean from hockey.

  Charlotte: WHAT?!

  Me: It’s a grind. I’m sore and tired all the time and lately I’m gone more nights than I’m home.

  Charlotte: You’re working toward something bigger. You’ll travel by plane when you move up.

  Me: That may never happen.

  Charlotte: Don’t say that.

  Me: It’s true. I’m like a kid chasing a stupid dream. I’ve got a business degree. Maybe it’s time to get a normal job and keep normal hours.

  Charlotte: Normal is overrated. I love that you’re chasing your dream. I want our son to chase his own someday.

  Me: I wish I was there with you.

  Charlotte: Me too. But you will be. You’re tired and down, which happens to all of us. But no more crazy talk, okay? You can’t quit hockey. You love it too much and you’ve worked too hard.

  Me: All right, boss.

  Charlotte: Are you calling me bossy?

  Me: Haha, I typed that with a smile. I needed the pep talk. Thanks.

  Charlotte: I’m falling asleep. I’m surrounded by pillows and it’s just too comfortable.

  Me: Goodnight. See you soon, gorgeous.

  Charlotte: Can’t wait.

  As soon as I put my phone down, the engine of the bus roared to life and cool air flowed out of the vent by my bunk. At least we were finally about to start moving again.

  The Suicide Prevention Center was housed in a small, run-down building in downtown Fenway. I’d caught a few hours of sleep when I got home from the road trip, then showered, and now I was about to start my community service hours.

  “Can I help you?” a blond, college-aged woman asked.

  “I’m here for community service. Name’s Bennett Morse.”

  She smiled. “You’re the hockey player?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hi, I’m Gretchen.” She held her hand out for a handshake. “I’ll show you what to do.”

  “Great.”

  She led me around several desks in the open main room and through the door of a small conference room.

  “We have a ton of envelopes that need to be stuffed and run through the postage machine.” She sat down in front of a giant pile of letters and envelopes. “I’ll help since it’s slow in here.”

  I grabbed a pile of letters and started folding and stuffing.

  “So how’d you end up with community service?” Gretchen asked. “You don’t look like the bad-boy type.”

  “Uh . . . it was a fight.”

  “You hockey players love to fight, don’t you?”

  “I don’t love it, it’s just part of the game.”

  “I bet you’re really strong.” She bit her lip and looked at me.

  I focused on the stack of letters, knowing what that look meant.

  “So why the Suicide Prevention Center?” she asked.

  An image of Kelly smiling flashed before my eyes, followed immediately by an image of her crying, her face thinner and her expression drawn.

  “Someone I was close to took her own life a few years ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Gretchen said. “My best friend in high school made an attempt but fortunately survived. I get credit hours toward my psych degree for volunteering here, and it’s a good place.”

  “Good.”

  “You can get training to handle calls to the hotline if you want to.”

  I bristled. I hadn’t known what to say to Kelly when she was hurting. I’d just listened. If I’d known the right words to say, things might have ended up differently. I didn’t want to fail anyone else.

  “Maybe,” I said.

&
nbsp; “So what’s your deal? Are you married, single?”

  “I’ve got a girlfriend. Her name’s Charlotte. We’re having a baby in June.”

  Gretchen’s eyes widened with surprise. “Oh, wow.”

  We stuffed in silence for another half hour and then Gretchen showed me how to use the postage machine and disappeared into the break room. I posted all the envelopes and then had to watch a volunteer orientation video.

  “I’m heading out,” I said to Gretchen when the video ended. “I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.”

  “See you then.”

  I glanced at my watch on the way out the door. It was 4:50. I could stop by the store and get stuff to make dinner at Charlotte’s. While weighing my options for the menu, I came face-to-face with a gangly teenage kid whose shaggy hair hung down to his eyelashes.

  His expression registered panic. He glanced from side to side and turned to run away.

  “Hey, man,” I said. “How’s it going?”

  “Um . . . fine.” His voice cracked nervously.

  He’d been heading for the door of the Suicide Prevention Center, but I didn’t want to mention it and scare him away. Blood rushed to my head as I tried to figure out what I should do. If I went back inside to get someone from the center, I was pretty sure he’d be gone when I got back.

  “Do you, uh . . . need a friend to talk to?” I asked.

  The kid looked right at me, narrowing his eyes just a fraction. “What’s that mean?”

  “Just, you know . . . that if you need some help . . .”

  His eyes filled with tears and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I don’t know why I came here.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “It’s not that I want to die, but . . . I just don’t know if I can stand living anymore.” His voice broke again and he looked down at the ground. “I know that sounds stupid.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “Every day is a living hell.”

  “I’m sorry, man. Truly, I am.” I sat down on the concrete steps of the center and gestured to the spot beside me. “I knew someone who went through that and she said it felt like drowning. Like, no matter how hard she fought, she just kept getting pulled under.”

  He sat down beside me and sighed heavily. “That’s what I feel like.”