Falling for Mr. Wrong: A Bencher Family Book (Entangled Indulgence)

by Inara Scott

  “Is that why you’ve been putting away the drinks tonight?” she asked.

  He laughed, a self-deprecating sound that struck her right in the heart. “Maybe.”

  “Well, to answer your question, I’m leaving tomorrow for Nepal.” The flutter between her legs grew to a throb.

  “Dear God.” Ross pulled back, frowning. “Are you climbing Mount Everest?”

  Kelsey smiled. “No. Annapurna, actually. Annapurna One.”

  “There’s more than one of them?”

  “It’s a section of peaks in the Himalayas. Annapurna One is the tallest. Not as big as Everest, but size isn’t everything.”

  Ross waggled his eyebrows. “Anyone who says that is lying, you know.”

  Kelsey giggled. Suddenly, she felt the weight of the mountain, which had rested so squarely on her shoulders for weeks, lift. Ross put a hand on her knee, then traced a path along her thigh. She leaned forward, every muscle in her body straining toward his touch.

  She wanted to be naked. She wanted to be crazy and abandoned, to rip off his shirt and bury her nails into the taut flesh of his back.

  “I guess we should cover some basics,” she said. “I prefer crunchy peanut butter and hate hot tubs.”

  Ross nodded. “I went through a heavy metal phase in college that I’ve never totally grown out of, and would love to convince you otherwise about hot tubs.”

  “They’re a festering pool of germs.”

  “Sometimes you need a little extra heat.”

  “Not tonight.” She reached down and moved his hand higher on her leg. Ross made an appreciative sound in the back of his throat. He paused for a moment before pulling up the edge of her skirt. When his thumb brushed her inner thigh, she almost fell off the stool.

  What was happening to her? She’d never been particularly good with men. She’d dated here and there during college, lost her virginity to a nice boy who shared her love of long-distance running and backpacking, but never felt entirely comfortable with anyone. She’d certainly never been comfortable enough to allow any man to take liberties with her in a crowded bar.

  Yet here she was, ready to open her thighs to a complete stranger.

  “Where are you staying?” she managed to squeak out.

  “The St. Julien,” he replied. “Why don’t I call us a cab?”

  …

  The cab ride was mercifully short. Kelsey stayed a cool distance away from him, as if recognizing that any contact might be too much. Ross appreciated it. The last thing he needed was to get arrested for indecent exposure in the back of a taxi.

  When they arrived, he paid the driver and led Kelsey to the bank of elevators. As soon as the doors closed behind them, he pulled her roughly into his arms and crushed her mouth under his.

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  She was cinnamon and sugar, hot and sweet under his tongue. There was no slow build, no gradual or growing awareness. No, in an instant, desire was roaring in his ears and pounding through his veins. His body burned and tightened. They kissed with a passion so intense it was frantic, bumping teeth and pulling hair, tongues meshing and then fighting. Somehow, she ended up on his waist, skirt around her thighs. With one hand he cupped her buttock cheek, while the other slid under her shirt for the first touch of her breast.

  When he touched the rounded flesh, soft skin covered by the silky lace of her bra, Ross was briefly struck by the remembered feeling of his wife. His ex-wife. He felt her breasts, the ones he’d known since they were stupid kids trying out sex and love in the backseat of a car. But then he found the peak of Kelsey’s nipple, and felt her press her hips against him, and everything else fell away.

  Kelsey was new and every one of his senses had come alive to drink her in. Her body. Her smile. The intensity of her kiss.

  The ding of the elevator doors pulled them briefly to reality. Kelsey dropped nimbly to her feet, and Ross led them down the hall to his room. Feeling like an awkward teen, he fumbled in his pocket for the key to his room, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of Kelsey, her eyes dark and huge, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. Helpless, he drew her back against him, marveling at the muscles beneath her skin and the utter abandon of her mouth.

  With an extreme exertion of will, he managed to tear himself away long enough to open the door. Inside, they fell onto the bed, Ross centered over Kelsey, staring down at the tiny freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. Her skirt lay around her waist, revealing a scrap of pink panties and the flat plane of her stomach.

  Ross forced himself not to ravish her that instant. He paused and took a long, slow breath, memorizing the contours of her body. With a gesture that seemed equal parts impatience and discomfort at his steady regard, she sat up halfway and pulled off her shirt, revealing hard nipples pushing against her thin, lacy bra.

  Ross needed no further encouragement. He stripped off his shirt, shuddering when she ran her fingers along his chest, stopping to brush his nipples before digging into his shoulders. He started to pull off his pants and then froze.

  “Shit. I don’t have…I wasn’t expecting…”

  Kelsey waved toward the small beige purse she’d thrown on the floor as soon as they entered the room. “Check my bag.”

  Feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief, Ross felt around until he found a foil square. He set it down for a moment to strip off his clothes and then opened the package, pulling out the circular ridge of latex. For a moment, he couldn’t help but pause, struck by the realization that he was now truly divorced, in mind and body. But then he looked at Kelsey, who had magically become naked while he put on the condom, and the pounding need of his body drowned out the sober thoughts.

  Kelsey scooted up the bed and rested her head on a pillow. Her breasts were small and white on an otherwise tan torso, with stiffly peaked nipples that begged for his mouth. Below her navel was another white triangle of untanned flesh, followed by long, smooth legs. A bruise marked one of her hips.

  “Did you really trip while you were jogging?” he asked. She hadn’t said much since they’d left the bar, and he suddenly wanted to hear her voice, to make sure she was real and wanted this as much as he did.

  Kelsey nodded. “I’m actually pretty clumsy.” With an unexpectedly shy smile, she rolled slightly onto one hip, revealing a scar that ran at least six inches along her side. “I got this one climbing a few months ago. Managed to fall on a particularly sharp bit of granite. Twenty stitches.”

  Ross kneeled on the bed, tracing the long white line with one finger. “Jesus. You’re clumsy and you go mountaineering? What, do you have some kind of death wish?”

  She laughed, but the sound had a strangely sad note. Before he could say anything more, she sat up and grabbed him around the neck. Her nipples pressed against his chest, twin brands on his overheated skin. Her mouth found his, her tongue trailed along his bottom lip. Yielding to the pressure of her arms, he lowered himself on top of her body.

  He gasped. “We…should…slow…” The words were painful nonsense. He didn’t want to slow anything. He wanted this.

  Now.

  Their hips moved, and Kelsey shifted her position. He sucked in a breath when she reached down a moment later to guide him into her warmth. Her eyes closed, and he paused before entering her slowly, inch by inch. A groan escaped his lips when they were fully, completely joined. Her legs fused around him. They lay there for a moment, just rocking, bodies fused.

  He ignored the screaming of his cock, allowing only the tiniest contraction in his hips, not giving in to the urge to lose himself in wild, abandoned thrusts. The moment was too intense and sweet to waste it. He breathed restraint into the small of his back and the muscles from his core to his legs. Still, he couldn’t hold back forever. They began to rock harder. Clutch tighter.

  She moaned, and the sound nearly did him in. He couldn’t tell if she was saying “yes” or “more” but it didn’t matter.

  A roaring sound deep in his brain silenced everyt
hing else. Ross’s world narrowed to the feeling of his cock, buried deep inside a stranger, the beat of her heart against his chest, and the press of nails against his back. He tried to maintain the agonizingly slow movements, but she pulled him tighter and urged him on with her hips.

  “Kelsey, are you…?”

  She silenced him with another kiss. Ross gave up then, gave in to the tidal wave of need. He thrust again and again, wishing he could move inside her forever, but the pressure built so quickly he was overwhelmed, barely able to keep up. He captured one nipple between his teeth, rolled it gently and then sucked, finding his own control in making her lose hers. Kelsey moaned and arched. Long hair tangled around his hands, her neck, the bed. He moved to the other breast, all the while thrusting, the pleasure spilling through every nerve of his body.

  “Harder,” she whispered, her voice clear now. “Faster. Please.”

  Her soft breath on his cheek snapped the cord holding back the beast inside. His body took over with a roar, owning and possessing, trusting that wherever he went, she was with him. There was no sound other than their frantic breathing, the creak of the bed, the pounding of his heart. Her hands dropped low on his buttocks, pressing him closer. Her legs flexed and tightened around his torso, a line of energy from thigh to toe.

  Damn, but she was strong. He’d never realized how he’d always held back, just a little, when he’d had sex. But he didn’t need to hold back with Kelsey. Her lithe, supple muscles promised that she could take him, all of him. All of his need and energy and lust. Dimly, he registered the unfamiliar feeling in an ancient, primitive part of his brain. Then he let his body and brain separate and forgot himself in the sizzle of energy. He thrust faster and harder, until they fell into the vortex of their need. Then she arched, cried, and exploded against him, and he felt his own body burst into a final crescendo of release.

  Chapter Two

  Present day

  Kelsey stared nervously at the head of the infant who had been unceremoniously placed in her lap. She tried not to breathe in the smell of talcum powder, milk, and diapers. Babies always left her slightly nauseated, though she was never sure if it was because of their odor, the feel of their soft weight, or the look of them, with their helpless, fragile heads. Perhaps it was the simple knowledge that she was absolutely, without a doubt, unqualified to touch them. She tried to avoid direct contact with anything younger than two years, but that was difficult when her best friend ran a nanny agency.

  “Marie, there’s no way I could—”

  Her friend stopped her with a raised hand. “I’m not asking you to babysit Oscar. I promised his mother I’d care for him personally. She had to go back to work today and is a total wreck.” Marie gestured around the kitchen in which they stood. “Check out the mess. I don’t think she’s cleaned a thing since the kid was born. I told her I’d tidy up and do the laundry while I was here and she practically kissed my feet.”

  Marie was right. The small house was littered with diaper pails, bouncy chairs, and onesies. Every end table seemed to be covered with discarded coffee cups and dirty dishes.

  “Besides, I wouldn’t dream of dropping a baby on your lap. You’ve been pretty clear about your phobia.”

  “It’s not a phobia,” Kelsey protested. “It’s more like…erm…”

  Marie quirked a brow. “An allergy?”

  She pouted. “Now you’re making fun of me.”

  “Maybe just a little. Baby-phobe. You really think I would leave a helpless infant in your care?”

  Kelsey grinned at the pleasure of being so well understood. Ever since Marie had started up the Gentle Hands Nanny Agency a year ago, she’d been bugging Kelsey to face her fear, though always subtly. Or at least, as subtle as Marie was capable of being. This morning, when Marie had summoned her at 8:00 a.m., claiming she had an emergency, Kelsey had assumed she was in for more of the same. She should have known Marie wouldn’t be crazy enough to leave a helpless six-week-old infant in her unskilled arms.

  She looked around for something to throw at Marie, but then the creature moved, and it startled her so badly she almost dropped it. “Jesus, Marie, don’t distract me while I’m holding this thing.”

  “That thing is a baby, hon, not a tarantula.”

  “Maybe to you. You spent your childhood carrying around so many babies you developed hips when you were eight.”

  “What are you saying?” Marie padded her rounded curves. “Are you suggesting I’ve got big hips?”

  “You’re perfect,” Kelsey said. “I’m the one who finds newborns as terrifying as the winged monkeys from The Wizard of Oz. Between which, by the way, there is a very strong resemblance. Other than the skin color.”

  “And the lack of wings?”

  “Whatever. It’s the fear they engender that’s similar. And the freaky little monkey faces. Besides, tarantulas are cute. Fuzzy. Like eight-legged teddy bears.”

  Marie shuddered. “I am fully aware that you had the most unnatural childhood of anyone I’ve ever met. But if you tell me you were given a tarantula to play with when you were a baby I’m going to lose it.”

  “Nope,” Kelsey said. “Just the occasional rhesus monkey. Now, before I throw up on top of your adorable little charge, why don’t you tell me what you want?”

  Marie’s cell phone dinged. She picked it up and studied it for a moment, then sighed. “Hope just e-mailed me from the hospital. She’s so dehydrated they had to start an IV.”

  Hope was one of Marie’s nannies. Kelsey’s spine tingled with suspicion. Perhaps now she would find out exactly why Marie had called her this morning. “What’s wrong with her?” She cautiously adjusted the infant so it would rest more squarely on her lap.

  Marie shook her head. “Same thing that’s wrong with Genevieve, Marianne, Andie, and Sariah. Apparently the restaurant we ate at for our anniversary dinner last night had a little salmonella problem with their chicken.”

  “That’s horrible. Is everyone going to be okay?” She turned her head to the side and tried to take a deep breath. Marie could joke around all she wanted, but baby-induced nausea was nothing to mess around with.

  Marie continued staring at her phone, flicking her finger across the screen as she read. “Yeah, no one’s going to die. They’re just in varying stages of sick, sicker, and can’t stop vomiting.”

  “How did you escape?” Kelsey was getting a little light-headed from not breathing, so she opened her mouth and tried to avoid using her nose. The baby left a warm impression in the crook of her arm.

  “I decided last week to try being a vegetarian. No chicken for me.”

  The infant whimpered and opened his eyes. He stared, unfocused, in Kelsey’s direction for a minute before squinching up his face and letting out an enormous wail.

  She recoiled in panic. “Marie, I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.” She held the squalling infant out in front of her, terrified.

  Marie laughed. “You didn’t do anything, silly. Babies cry. It’s their nature. Just walk around a little. Bounce him. He loves that. They all do.”

  Kelsey shook her head and grimaced. Walk around with it? Was Marie on crack? “Oh no. You take him.”

  Marie held up her phone again. “I’ve got to e-mail Hope back. You’ll be fine.”

  “But he’s crying.”

  “He just finished a bottle. He’s probably got a bubble. Put him over your shoulder and pat his back.”

  Kelsey stared at the bundle in her arms, which was slowly turning red as it continued to wail. Awkwardly, she tried to shift it onto her shoulder, while still maintaining her support of its large, untethered head. The maneuver seemed ripe for disaster.

  Marie tapped on her phone while she struggled.

  “Hello! A little help here, Marie?” A wave of fear washed over her. What if the creature was injured? Or sick? What if her inadequate baby-holding skills had hurt it somehow?

  Marie looked up. “You’re fine. You can do a handstand on a tightrope. I think
you can put a baby on your shoulder.” Her phone rang and she shook her head helplessly. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to take this.” She stepped out of the front door and closed it behind her, presumably to escape the noise of the wailing infant.

  Kelsey stared down at the baby. “All right, Oscar,” she muttered. “Let’s do this.” Carefully, she hoisted the burrito-shaped package, turning her hand to keep support under the baby’s head while she shifted it into position. Then, with a quick prayer, she flipped him up onto her shoulder.

  Success!

  Feeling a surge of pride not unlike that of managing a steep overhang on a rock face, she began to pat him through the thick blanket.

  Marie came back in a moment later. “That was Eve. She’s at home. She thinks it will be another day, maybe two. But she’s on the mend.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” Kelsey tried to mimic the bouncing move Marie always seemed to make when she was holding a baby. “Did you want to take Oscar now?”

  Marie held out her hands. “Sure.”

  Kelsey made the transfer with only a fraction more confidence than she had the over-the-shoulder move and then sighed with relief at the feeling of empty arms. “So anyway, if you don’t want me to watch Oscar, why in the world did you call me over? I was right in the middle of a workout.”

  “I figured. That’s why I called.”

  “Because you’re bitter that I’m working out?” She grinned. “You can always come with me the next time I go for a run.”

  Marie snorted. “Right. And then you’ll know it’s time to prepare for the apocalypse.”

  Marie was of a similar height to Kelsey, but she was considerably more rounded. Not that anyone complained. Everyone, especially men, loved Marie’s hourglass shape. Everyone except Marie, who periodically started on the latest diet fad, juice cleanse, or exercise regimen, only to give it up a week later. Marie had a strong aversion to dieting. Or, heaven forbid—sweating.