Hand coming to her mouth, she felt ice trickle down her spine.
“What’s wrong, Andy?” Emme asked.
She turned her head half an inch. “Brad. By the bar. Watching us.”
“What in the hell...” Emme took a step forward, squinting. “That ass is following you, Andrea!”
Fear broke through the wall of alcohol and she stiffened, unmoving as she gripped the edge of the table. He was stalking her. Was he trying to intimidate her? Or did he really want to hurt her? If she was honest, she knew at the car she reacted before he could do anything. Maybe he hadn’t meant to harm her.
“That’s it,” Emme said. “I’m calling Benton. I’d kick his ass myself, but I’m too drunk to walk properly.”
“No, wait-”
Her friend’s hand sliced through the air, silencing her, as she quickly hit a button on her speed dial. A terse conversation followed, where Andrea got the impression Benton was telling them to stay where they were, behind the rope and next to security. Deflated, feeling as if the night became a failure, she flopped onto the bench.
Kate sat next to her, taking her hand.
“He’s crazy,” Emme said viciously, leaning forward, eyes boring into Brad with an intensity that made the man finally look away. “I mean, he got himself fired and now he’s stalking you.”
“I should never have gone out with him. I thought he was nice.”
Emme snorted. “Nice, like a snake.”
Finding it useless to do anything else, Andrea picked up a drink and drained it. The other girls followed suit, the air around them now somber. Music pumped in the background, drowning out the conversations around them. Despite the noise and the threat of Brad, she felt herself drifting. The day had been amazingly long, stressful and awkward.
Uncertain what time it was, she let herself slip in and out of sleep until someone gently shook her awake. Blinking, she opened her eyes to find herself staring into Benton’s gray ones. Offering him a lazy, inebriated smile, she tried to rise only to stumble. He grasped onto her waist, hauling her up against his side. It was then that she remembered why he came, and her gaze shot to the bar.
Brad was gone. She didn’t know if it happened before or after Benton arrived. It didn’t matter now. If Emme hadn’t filled the bodyguard in on what happened to her earlier, it was only a matter of time. She expected a lecture from Benton before the night ended.
He lead them through the dance floor; people parted and let them pass without being asked. Muffling a giggle, because she knew it had to do with Benton being so big and intimidating, Andrea shuffled along beside him. They remained silent as he bundled them into the car, placing her in the passenger seat and leaning across to buckle her in. She caught the spicy scent of his aftershave and resisted the urge to lean in and press her nose to his neck.
She supposed his odd lack of words should have alerted her, but she snuggled into the seat and absorbed the warmth while he drove her friends home. Calling out sleepy ‘good nights’ to them, she held her tongue at the thought that he ruined her slumber party.
When they were alone in the Jeep, he said, “Why didn’t you tell me Brad harassed you today?”
“You aren’t my father, Benton,” she told him sleepily.
His lips thinned, but he didn’t respond to that.
Sucked back into the heat of the car and the lateness of the hour, she closed her eyes and tried to rest. When the car came to a stop, she jolted awake, surprised that they were already at her apartment. A quick look at the clock told her it was well past one AM.
Benton put the car in park and climbed out, rounding to open her door. Without asking, he unbuckled her and removed her shoes. His hands trailed along the arch of her foot and what should have tickled sent heat straight to her groin. Groaning to herself as he moved away and the cold night air seeped in, she prepared to jump onto the damp pavement.
“Hold on,” Benton said, swinging her into his arms.
Gripping his neck, allowing herself to relax against him because it felt too good not to, she didn’t argue while he carried her up the stairs and demanded the keys to unlock the door. Inside, he set her down and slipped her out of her coat while kicking the door shut behind him.
She stared up at him through half-lidded eyes.
“You’re so damn stubborn, Andrea.”
She tipped her chin up higher. “I took care of Brad myself.”
“Oh, did you now?” Benton asked, moving closer. She stood her ground, feeling the warmth from his body as it stopped a whisper away from hers.
“I told you-”
“Mm hm. Self-defense classes.”
Glaring at his derisive tone, she folded her arms beneath her chest.
“What happens when he catches you by surprise? He outweighs you by at least sixty pounds.”
“Well I can’t go around with you glued to me all day, now can I!” She shot back.
Something flashed in his expression, something hot and dangerous, before he tucked it away and left her thinking she imagined it. It was enough to have her backing up until her backside hit the wall. He advanced then, leaning down to press a hand on either side of her head.
“Are you trying to intimidate me?” She demanded.
“Just trying to figure you out.”
“Don’t,” she told him dismissively.
“And if I want to?”
“You...” She shoved at his chest ineffectively. “Go away, Benton.”
She felt swallowed by him, smothered by his scent and his heat. Her traitorous body wanted to lean into him, to absorb all that he had to offer. The hands on the wall by her head fisted. His expression became strained and he made a frustrated sound.
“If you weren’t drunk right now...”
Something simmered, low and hot in her belly. Her heart sped up and her mouth went dry.
“What?” She dared on a whisper.
His gaze dropped to her lips. She found herself biting her lower one without thinking.
“You are trouble,” he told her.
She managed a laugh. “That’s the first time anyone has said that to me.”
Those eyes, usually so calm and unreadable, like a one-way mirror, burned into her. She felt scorched on the spot and trapped, as if he nailed her to the wall. She wanted to fall headlong into them and drown, never to surface again. Her breath hitched in her chest, leaving it tight with anticipation. She wanted him to tell her what he was thinking, to show her what he wanted.
Leaning forward, she pressed her palms into his chest and felt the heat of him beneath her hands. Alcohol made her bold; she knew if she didn’t press him now, she might never get the chance again.
“Andrea...”
She closed her eyes, savoring her name on his lips. The way he said it, as if considering every syllable and taking his time to taste each one, tore across her skin and left her shivering in its wake. He had to know. She couldn’t be the only one feeling the pull and the ache of wanting. Andrea knew she couldn’t be imagining the need in his eyes, that slow simmer of desire electrifying the air between them.
“Don’t look at me that way,” he told her, tone low and almost desperate.
“What way?” She asked, as if she didn’t know.
“The hell you don’t know.”
He started to move away, and she gripped his shirt, leaning in until their bodies were almost flush. Her skin screamed for his touch and she wanted nothing more than to feel the sweet pressure of his mouth on hers.
She knew she played with fire. Getting burned hurt, but she came too far to back down now.
“You don’t know what you want. You’ve had too much to drink,” he said, insulting her.
Andrea let go of his shirt, slapped her hands against his chest. “How do you know what I want? You never asked me.”
“And I’m not going to start now.”
She felt him closing off, effectively shutting her down as he turned his back on her.
“You’re a co
ward, Benton Grant.”
He froze, tension evident in the lines of his shoulders.
Without turning, he said, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Don’t insult me further, Benton. I’m not a little girl.”
Fists clenched at his sides, he spun, growling, “You don’t think I don’t know that?”
Pride forcing her to stand her ground, she pulled herself up straight and said, “You could have fooled me.”
“I think I like you better when you aren’t drunk,” he muttered.
“Why? Because I don’t make you face the truth?” Shame creeping in, she swatted at the air in front of him. “Go away, Benton. Go home. I don’t want you here.”
His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking with the force of the motion. “Could have fooled me.”
Ignoring the jab, she snapped, “Go on, run home with your tail between your legs.”
His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Lady...”
Chapter Ten
Even as she felt guilt for being so cruel with him, a part of her couldn’t stop from lashing out to protect the wounds his words ripped open and left bleeding. If it weren’t for all the drinks, she knew she would never be so bold. But the headiness of it emblazoned her and she felt out of control, spinning headfirst into a territory she knew nothing about.
Deadliness exuded from him, and she felt her confidence wavering, becoming ashamed of her own behavior. A part of her couldn’t help but think she hurt him and she couldn’t stand to hurt anyone.
Her shoulders dropped. “Benton... I’m sorry, I...”
The fight left his countenance, and she couldn’t read his face.
“Go to bed, Andrea.”
“What are you-”
He pointed to the couch.
“You don’t need to sleep there again. I’ll be fine. I’ll lock the door.”
With the buzz of alcohol leaving her system, she felt impossibly small and incredibly mean. Wrapping her arms around herself, she wished she could shield them both from the ugliness. Pride could be a nasty thing, pushing people to say and do things they wouldn’t ordinarily. With her heart open and vulnerable, with her practically throwing herself at him, she resorted to a level she never wanted to again.
“Please,” she pleaded. “Just go home.”
Tears burned behind her eyelids, threatening to spill. She didn’t want him to see her like this. Everything seemed to be falling apart lately and she thought she knew what she was doing, but she couldn’t seem to properly cope.
“Andrea. Don’t.” He started toward her.
She held up her hand, warding him off. “Benton, please.”
He cursed, jamming a hand through his hair, sending it standing on end. “Lady...” He started forward again, stopped and gestured helplessly. “Why the hell won’t you stop tearing me up?”
The words echoed in the moment like the wailing of a siren, and she sucked in a breath, surprised. Something crossed his face, and then, as if making up his mind, he took two long strides and snatched her up, pulling her against him. Then his lips were on hers, firm and demanding, all heat and emotion and lacking any sentiment of gentleness. She froze a moment in shock, before wrapping her arms around his neck and slipping her fingers into his hair.
Against the hard lines of his body, she felt full and feminine. Surrounded by the scent and feel of him, she dove in with all her senses and trembled as his arm secured around her waist, the other stroking the exposed flesh of her back. Lust wound through her and gripped her as tightly as he held her. She became lost to him, surrendering it all.
His lips shifted, coaxing hers open. He nipped at the swollen, fullness of her bottom lip and soothed the sting with his tongue before sweeping into her mouth. On a moan, she met him, stroking and tasting as much of him as she could reach. He matched her passion, backing them up until she hit the wall, completely trapped against him. His hands plunged into her hair, tangling in the curls, his fingers massaging magic and sending a shiver down her spine.
She had never felt so thoroughly consumed. No man had ever kissed her as if nothing else existed outside the moment. Her skin felt achingly alive and everywhere he touched tingled. His trailed his fingers along her bare arms, down her sides and left them to rest on her waist. She burrowed into him and smoothed her hands down the flexing muscles in his back, fingers catching in his belt. He tensed, pulling away from her lips to press against the side of her neck.
Pulling in a shuddering breath, she let her head fall back and gave him complete access. He rubbed his cheek against her chest over her heart and laid it to rest there, breathing unsteady.
“This is a mistake...” He murmured, hands tightening on her.
It felt like he dumped ice on the moment, shattering the spell and reminding her of where they were and who they were. Keeping her eyes closed, she swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat and wished for once he would forget the rules.
“Then why do it?” She managed, hating that her voice was uneven.
Instead of answering, he pulled away, leaving her bereft of his presence and cold in the absence of his heat. His gray eyes were filled with storms and as in control as he might have wanted to seem, she knew better. Not wanting to examine the rejection, she briskly rubbed her arms, as if the motion could erase how it felt to be in his arms.
“Pack a suitcase,” he said. “You’re moving in with me.”
Blinking, she stared at him as if he had sprouted two heads. “What in the world are you talking about?”
“I can’t leave you alone here. Not until I can do something about Brad.”
Temper spiking, she pushed off the wall and toward him. “Brad isn’t your problem Benton, he’s mine.”
“Like hell he isn’t. The bastard isn’t going to let up. I think he’s proven that.”
“You don’t get to order me around. You don’t get to decide what I do and where I go.”
He advanced on her again. “Dammit, Andrea. I don’t want anything happening to you.”
“Why?” She challenged.
“You know why.”
“Maybe I don’t,” she countered.
“I care about you.”
He cared about her; as a friend, as more? She doubted he would ever tell her. Maybe she didn’t have the right to know, but she at least deserved it.
“Benton, I’m not moving in with you.”
Being in such close proximity to him daily and not being allowed to touch him or explore this obvious attraction they shared: she didn’t think she could stand it.
“I’m not giving you an option,” he returned stubbornly.
“And you say I’m stubborn.”
“The most stubborn woman I know,” he said, though she hadn’t said it with the intention of agreeing with him.
Arguing with Benton was like repeatedly beating her head against brick. The man would not give up when he felt he made sense. A childish part of her wanted to stamp her foot and scream the word ‘no’ at the top of her lungs. She felt like she fought a battle she couldn’t win.
“And if I don’t go?”
“I’ll sleep on your couch every night until you do.”
“Don’t be silly, Benton! That couch is too small for you and too uncomfortable for sleeping. You wouldn’t get any rest.”
He shrugged and she wished she could call his bluff; but she knew he meant every word he spoke. Benton had the most integrity of any man she knew outside of Deacon. He didn’t say what he didn’t mean. He didn’t lie, even when it might spare someone’s feelings. As his friend, she knew she should be grateful he cared enough to fight so hard for her. Only, she hated being back into a corner and given no other option.
“What if I stay until I get a restraining order?”
Benton arched an eyebrow, looking doubtful. “A piece of paper isn’t going to keep you safe.”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“Move in with me. Let me figure out what to do with
the bastard.”
She tried reason. “I appreciate that you care and I appreciate what you want to do, but this is my life and my decision.”
While she understood his desire to keep her safe, she didn’t think it necessary to move in with him. She hadn’t seen the extra house on Deacon’s land either, so she didn’t know if the space would be crowded or if there would be room for her to escape to alone. Maybe that was simply her. She had never lived with a lover before because she needed a place for herself. It became comforting that she could spend time with a boyfriend and then go back to her apartment alone. She supposed psychologically that meant something.
The Proposal Page 7
