Three Men and a Woman: Delilah (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Rachel Billings

  “I can wait. Let me just get these upstairs for you.”

  She opened the door, having to step around a six-pack beside it.

  “You brought beer?”

  “For after. I owe you.”

  Delilah turned around, looking up the two or three inches to meet his gaze. Ben looked back at her steadily, with nothing to read in his eyes. He had that calm deal going on, but she wasn’t sure he was all that innocent.

  She searched his eyes for a long moment, and finally he offered the baskets from his hands. “I can wait down here. No problem.”

  Feeling churlish, Delilah relented. “Have you had lunch?”

  “Brunch,” he answered. “I could eat.”

  She saw the grin in his eyes then. He could probably always eat. And he was getting his way.

  He took the baskets back to his side. “Grab the beer. I’ve got these.”

  He knew how to wash lettuce and otherwise be helpful in the kitchen. As they made lunch and then ate they spoke about their work—Ben was an organic chemist working on photovoltaic energy systems. He entertained her with surfing stories and fished out of her the events in her life that led to the move to Santa Cruz. He was perfectly willing to get onboard the Isaac-is-a-loser train and made her smile with his enthusiasm about it. But when he dried his hands after cleaning up he stopped her at the sink with his fingers on her cheek.

  “You’ve been hurt, Lilee. I’m sorry.”

  Little did he know. And for a moment, she wondered if he saw more than she wanted him to as he searched her eyes. But there was no need to reveal more of the stupid mistakes she’d made with regard to men. He knew enough. More than enough.

  Still, there was gentle kindness in Ben’s touch, and, just a little, she fell into it. “Thank you, Ben.”

  “You’re a strong woman, Delilah.” He held her, stopped her trying to turn away. “You’re beautiful, and smart.”

  “And can throw a disk.”

  “Yeah, that, too.” He smiled but didn’t let her sway him from his thought. She could see what was coming next.

  “Please,” she said before he spoke again. “Please don’t tell me any man would be lucky to have me.” She grasped his fingers, took them away from her face. She gave them a squeeze and then let them go. “We should get going.”

  He let her walk away, but she knew he was reluctant about it.

  She couldn’t help it. She’d felt his soft touch, had been tempted by those strong shoulders. She’d have liked to bury her face there, to burrow into his strength and calm and sweetness.

  She so wasn’t going to do that. She wasn’t.

  * * * *

  Ben thought maybe his strategy was working, and then he thought maybe it wasn’t.

  He biked with Delilah to the game that Saturday. He hugged her after their victory like he did most of his teammates. He rode home behind her and drank a couple companionable beers on her front porch after.

  The next Saturday he wangled lunch from her again, biked with her to the game, and gave her a victory hug. The Sugar Daddies had their game on. He’d planted the seed, and so the team captains corralled everyone into a pizza and beer post-game celebration.

  Delilah appeared relaxed and comfortable with him. She hadn’t hesitated about inviting him up for lunch when he knocked on her door. She sat next to him while they ate pizza and laughed as they recounted the game’s highlights. She leaned around him to talk with Shelly, who sat on his other side.

  She treated him like a buddy, while half the time he spent with her he was fighting a boner.

  He guessed the answer to whether his strategy was working or not depended on what the strategy was.

  If what he wanted was a buddy, well, it appeared he was golden. But there was that problem with the boner.

  Yeah, he’d set out to be a friend to the woman. He was pretty sure his heart had been pure about that, and he was a guy who tended to stay conscious about his motivations. He knew Delilah had been hurt in those days she’d spent with Linc. For that matter, Linc had been hurt, too.

  Delilah needed a friend, and in fact, his friend Linc needed Ben to be a friend, too. It had been a perfect plan—gentle Delilah into a friendship, let her heal a bit, let the thing she and Linc had work itself out in the end.

  She’d been so wounded that it was easy at first. She’d been skittish and suspicious—on guard enough that she kept him at arms’ length. He’d had to fight for every little bit of ground and he’d kept his expectations low.

  Then she’d healed some, gotten stronger, and she’d seemed to settle into a relationship with him—of companionship. Like he was a puppy. A neutered puppy.

  In the meantime, he’d gotten to know her again. He’d liked her a lot when they’d met that college semester. She was sweet and bright and engaging and, well, hot.

  Now she was all of those things and more. She was a woman with strength and depth. She’d been hurt but still had a warm heart, and he was sure, a true soul. She was more cautious, but she’d lost none of her sweetness. Nor had she lost any of her beauty. And he didn’t mean just the physical. Though, God knew, she was still hot as hell with that lovely face and tight, nicely curved body. But she still had the same beautiful, sweet spirit, too.

  He wasn’t all that happy to be her puppy. He was more inclined to recall that devil’s bargain he’d made with Linc and Austin. He’d started to think he should take his own shot at a real relationship with Delilah.

  Skittering along that fine edge of keeping his motives pure, he reminded himself of their basic assumption about Delilah’s role in the matter. If she found real love, she’d probably be willing to forgive the rest.

  Maybe it was self-serving, rationalizing tripe. But there was nothing subtle about what he was feeling. He wanted his shot. He wanted Delilah.

  So when he biked her home, late now because of the pizza outing, he made a point of admiring the lovely sunset. Instead of a short, quiet chat on her front porch, he got himself invited up to her deck so they could enjoy the sky.

  * * * *

  Ben took another beer—one of those left in the fridge after last Saturday—but Delilah declined. She felt a sudden need to keep her head straight.

  Something had changed. She was quite sure of it.

  She had two comfortable chaises on her lower deck and she assumed that, when she took one, Ben would sit down in the other. But he stood, leaning against the rail, turned so that he could watch the sunset and her at the same time.

  He loomed over her as dark fell, seeming bigger and more, well, male. She’d biked with him, run with him on the field, done their little victory hug. She’d known he was taller than she, muscled, and a guy. But suddenly she was more aware of him physically. She noted the stretch of his fresh T-shirt. He’d changed out of his game shirt while they were still on the field, just as she had hers, turning her back to lift her sweaty one off, leaving only her sports bra in place while she replaced it.

  His new one was a soft cream that darkened his brown eyes. It was a silk-cotton blend and fit his body well. It fell from a snug fit at his shoulders and caressed his smooth abs. The sleeves strained a bit when he flexed his biceps. It shimmered a little pink with the color of the sky, just like that halo of curls on his head did.

  He’d stayed in his loose athletic shorts. They hung from his waist, softly draping his narrow hips. When he’d rubbed his belly a moment ago, the shirt had lifted above the waistband and she’d seen the little trail of dark hair that arrowed down from his navel.

  She knew where it ended. For some reason, the way he stood there, leaning back against the rail in his loose shorts, it all called attention to his…package. She was sure he wore a jock, but still, she had the very powerful feeling that he stirred down there. That the way he filled out those shorts was changing as he watched her.

  Things were changing.

  She tried not to look and at the same time couldn’t keep herself from it. She also couldn’t keep herself from noticing
the little changes that were happening in her own body. Her breathing was a little quick, her awareness a little heightened. Her pussy a little moist.

  Ben was so sweet. She’d had a significant crush on him during that short time they’d been together in Japan. Somehow, he’d wormed his way past her defenses again.

  Well, truth to tell, she knew exactly how. “Shelly’s gay.”

  She’d spoken suddenly, a bit abruptly, but he didn’t visibly react. His body was still, his gaze on her in that open way he had.

  “Yeah. Shelly’s gay.”

  “I thought she was your girlfriend.”

  He smiled a little and shook his head. He took a slow swallow of his beer. “She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t have a girlfriend, Delilah.”

  She’d seen him kiss her, even before they’d all met. And after, that first time he’d said good-bye to Shelly when he’d biked home with Delilah. It had seemed so obvious.

  And it had made her feel safe.

  It was a feeling she no longer had.

  She’d like a little while to think about how important feeling safe was to her, but when Ben spoke next she knew she wasn’t going to get it.

  “Lilee. Stand up and walk over here. Please.”

  Delilah closed her eyes and took some slow breaths. There wasn’t just a hint of change anymore, but a good, hard knocking at her door.

  A shiver skittered along her skin. Fear or excitement? Panic or passion? “Delilah. Please?”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. A small handful of weeks ago she’d have thought it would be years, if not forever, before she contemplated getting involved with another man. But this was Ben. She liked him and trusted him, and somehow, they’d got to this point. This place where that tempting interest they’d had in each other years ago, that blossoming desire they’d never had a chance to act on, could finally be explored.

  He wanted it. She looked at him and knew. Yes, his gaze was no longer cool and calm but hot and wanting. Yes, his cock moved, filling, behind his shorts.

  Would she guard her wounded heart forever? Would she turn away the chance for something warm and sweet?

  How big a coward was she?

  She wasn’t sure, and the doubt made her stand. Made her feet move.

  She didn’t want to be a coward. Wouldn’t let Linc and Isaac have the power to make her one.

  She stepped close, but not so close that when Ben raised his hand as though to put it on her shoulder he could actually reach.

  He stood there waiting for her to step into him.

  “I need to be careful.”

  He nodded once. “We’ll be as careful as you need. But tonight, Lilee, I’d like to hold you.”

  She liked him. She trusted him. She said it a couple more times in her head and took one more step. One step, and his hand grasped her shoulder.

  He pulled her to him then, wrapping the one arm around her shoulders and snugging her against his chest. His head dropped beside hers, and he took a couple deep breaths from her hair. Then he put his other arm around her, lower, at her hips, and brought her to his pelvis.

  With a little moan Delilah circled her arms around him too, and she took his scent in with her breaths as she nestled into the crook of his neck.

  They stood there, holding each other hard, their breathing rough, giving little whimpering moans of appreciation. And with every heartbeat, Delilah felt his cock pulse against her. It filled and hardened and struggled to rise against the confines of his clothing and the enfolding pressure of her body.

  Finally, with an impatient grunt, Ben nudged back, reached between them, and freed himself within his clothes so his cock could stand up like it wanted to. He came back to her with a groan, settling himself against her lower belly.

  He was so hard and huge, she thought it must be painful. “Ben,” she said. “I know you want—”

  “I want to be with you in your bed, with my cock buried deep inside your tight body, with one hand on your ass and the other on your breast, and my tongue down your throat. Yeah, I want that.”

  Okay. Wow.

  “But right now, Lilee, this feels just fine. It feels so fine.”

  He moved his hands on her, bringing her more closely against him everywhere. He pressed on her back and brought her breasts hard into his chest. He slid his other hand from her hips to her ass and then a little lower to where her short running shorts ended, so his fingers found the skin of her thigh. He moved his hand up, under her shorts, and cupped her bare ass.

  He breathed heavily into her hair. “You just couldn’t imagine how good this feels.”

  She could, in fact. His arms were so strong, his body so hard and warm. She felt safe and exquisitely cared for. She nestled into him and put her lips against his neck.

  He stilled his grip on her for a moment, like he was feeling that imprint, checking his senses. Then he used his jaw to nudge her head back and took her mouth.

  It was all dark heat and wet desire. His lips were aggressive, his tongue invasive. He was hungry for her, possessive.

  He groaned, working harder to massage her breasts into his chest, using his hand on her ass to cradle her against his hard cock.

  It was powerful, almost overwhelming, but Delilah reveled in it. She twined her fingers into the curls at his neck and bound him to her. She slid one hand from his jaw to his shoulder then gripped the silk of his shirt to pull him closer.

  He was hard and hot, and she wanted him everywhere. If she could climb inside him she would have.

  It could have gone on for hours. Finally he let go of her mouth, his breath rough against her cheek.

  “If we’re going to stop this, you’d better say so.”

  Delilah realized she was rocking against him every bit as eagerly as he pressed into her. She was hungry for air, panting by his ear.

  Careful. She was going to be careful. Remember? There would be no falling into bed. No hot sex weekend that ended in a broken heart.

  She ducked her head down, pulling her body back and just resting her forehead at his shoulder. She slid her hands down his arms, pressing back below his biceps until his hands fell away from her.

  “Guess I’m still going home tonight, huh?”

  “Yes,” she huffed out, embarrassed now by her loss of—of all good sense. She took a step back, not touching him at all, and unable to look up at him.

  “That was sweet, Lilee. Hot as hell. But we’re not going to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  His words weren’t as reassuring as he might have thought, given that she hadn’t been the one to put the brakes on. But she nodded, grateful.

  He nudged her head up with a finger under her chin. He raised his brows and looked at her until she dredged up a small smile.

  “I’m going surfing in the morning. Want to come?”

  She took an easier breath. “I don’t know how to surf.”

  He grinned back at her. “I could teach you. But a lot of the surfer guys’ girls just lie on the beach in their bikinis. We all enjoy that, too.”

  “Is that what I am now? A surfer guy’s girl?”

  “It’s what you are if you want it. It’s what I want.”

  Another breath and she found a real smile. “Maybe.”

  He shrugged. “The position’s open.”

  “Yeah? How many candidates for it?”

  He patted her cheek and gave her a quick kiss. “Only one who’s made it to the final round. How about I come by here when I’m done? About three? We can save the lessons for later in the summer when the water warms up a bit.”

  Oxygen was finally making it back to Delilah’s brain. “I’d like to come to your place.”

  Ben looked at her, searching her eyes for a long moment. “Why don’t you come right now? You can look in my bathroom, check my closets and drawers.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant, and I’m not offended, Lilee. I want you to feel comfortable. I don’t have any wom
en’s emergency change of undies hidden in my bedroom, or a spare work outfit to avoid the walk of shame. I’ll admit I kept an old girlfriend’s blow dryer because I use it when I wax my board. And I’ll cop to keeping a new toothbrush in the bathroom, just in case I get lucky.

  “But there’s only one woman I’m hoping to get lucky with, and that’s you. Understood?” Delilah sighed hard and nodded. It was important to her. This time, she’d take steps to know he didn’t have a wife he forgot to mention, or a girlfriend.

  “I’ll call when I leave the beach, and you can meet me there. We’ll make dinner and watch the sunset again, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Sleep well.” He kissed her once more and walked to the French doors. “I don’t have to go home and clean some other woman’s stuff out. But I am going to wash my sheets.” He smiled as he looked back at her. “Just in case.”

  Chapter Six

  At her job in Boston, Delilah usually had some work to do on the weekends. Often she was able to get it done from home, but she typically devoted the first part of her Sundays to catching up on tasks that had gotten away from her and prepping for the upcoming week.

  Now she was on California time, or at least, Howard had tried to convince her that she was. He’d shuddered when she asked about getting into the building on Sundays and insisted she not spend any time working at home, either.

  The shop would survive the weekend without her, he insisted. She was “too pretty,” he said, to spend her weekends working. She got cheeky with him and asked if he hired some plain employees to get the work done on Saturdays and Sundays, but he pushed her firmly out the door.

  So on Sunday morning, Delilah spread a tarp out on her deck and worked at slivering bamboo for weaving. It was a repetitive task that required a lot of attention but not thought, and so she always found it a peaceful time when she could let her mind wander. She often solved problems or found a new perspective in the process.

  Her problem of the day was Ben.

  She wasn’t a list-maker, but she almost wanted to write one today. She could see the tally marks, pluses and minuses, in her head.