Maeve chewed on her lip, and her gaze flicked away … almost as if now that she’d given voice to her desire, she’d lost her nerve to take it any further.
Honestly, he could understand. How many times had he wanted to tell her how he felt, only to chicken out at the last second? How many times had he wanted to reach out and touch her the way he frequently did in his dreams? Too many times to count … all because he was afraid of ruining their friendship. He might not know a damn thing about Demi Lovato, but he knew the emotions that would drive someone to write a song like that. He knew because he lived with them daily.
Her eyes found his again. “Come inside, Ben.”
He wanted to. God, how he wanted. But he hadn’t kept his feelings to himself all these weeks to lose her now. He’d rather have Maeve in his life forever as a friend than to spend one night in her bed only for everything to implode the next day.
“I can’t, Maeve.”
Her eyes fell, and her shoulders slumped in on themselves. She took a step back and then turned toward the door, his fingers sliding from hers as she moved to unlock her door. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“I want to,” he rushed to say, stepping up behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders. He couldn’t not touch her. Not after what she’d just offered. “You have no idea how badly.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, and the look in her eyes nearly undid him. Pain. Embarrassment. Doubt. “Then why?”
Ben pulled a deep breath into his lungs and pressed his front to her back, close enough that she could feel the full extent of his desire. His palms coasted down her arms and then back up, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His head fell forward so that his mouth hovered near her ear. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t,” she whispered. “We won’t let that happen.”
“Do you promise?” His blood spiked with anticipation. He’d tried to do the right thing, but if Maeve was committed to keeping their friendship intact, he could be, too.
At the furthest recesses of his brain, Ben recognized that he was rationalizing his next move. He had no idea what would happen tomorrow, but the truth was, he’d convince himself of anything if it meant he got to have her. Even if it was just for now.
She nodded, her hand twisting the doorknob. “I promise.”
He dropped a feather-light kiss on the nape of her neck, and she shivered in his arms. “Then open the door, Maeve.”
The second they stepped over her threshold, Ben scooped Maeve into his arms. She squeaked in surprise, but then her arms went around his neck as his mouth came down to meet hers. No hesitancy, no delay. He’d waited weeks for this moment, and now that it was here, he wasn’t going to waste any more time.
“Bedroom?” he asked against her lips.
She untangled her arms and pointed somewhere to the left. Ben raised his eyes long enough to see a narrow hallway, and made his way for it.
“Second door on the left,” she said, pressing her mouth to his neck when he paused to figure out which door was hers.
In seconds, he had her splayed out on her bed, her wet clothes clinging to her curves. He stood over her, marveling at how beautiful she looked. How did he get so goddamn lucky? “Maeve, I ...” He paused, unsure of what he’d been about to say. He wanted to tell her that she was everything, but the words got stuck in his throat.
“Me too, Ben.” She raised her hand to beckon him closer.
He took hold of it and put one knee on the mattress. He leaned over her and brushed a few loose strands of hair away from her face. “No regrets.”
She smiled up at him. “No regrets.”
When their lips met this second time, he kissed her slowly. Tenderly. Maeve wasn’t a woman you rushed with, no matter how badly your body might be urging you to. You took the time to savor every bit of her.
She sighed, and arched her back to give him better access. Ben coasted a trail of kisses down her neck to her chest, still dewy from the rain. He licked the droplets from her skin, and she shivered. He continued his downward descent, and when he placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss over her breast, Maeve moaned.
“I need to feel you,” she said, sitting up and tugging her dress off over her head. His clothes followed, and then his eyes drank her in—every curve and valley—before he went back to worshipping her with his mouth.
“That feels so good,” she breathed out, her Irish lilt becoming more pronounced.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he moved down her body. “You drive me wild.”
“You too,” she answered, tangling her hands in his hair. “The first time I saw you—”
Her words died on her lips when Ben’s mouth crested the rise of her belly and ventured south. “The first time I saw you,” he said, picking up where she’d left off, “I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever met.” His finger slipped inside of her and she gasped when he found her clit. “And I told myself if I ever got to do this with you, I was going to do it right.”
Her hips bucked forward and he sank deeper. “I want you so bad, Ben.”
“Me too, Maeve.” His muscles bunched as he went to rise from the bed to grab protection. Her hand on his wrist made him freeze.
Her eyes found his and their gazes held. “I’m on birth control. And clean.”
His breath caught in his throat and his heart kicked against his chest. He couldn’t be sure, but it might have stopped beating for a few seconds at the implication of those six words.
Up until now, if you’d have asked Ben if he’d had good sex, he’d have said of course. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Because whatever this was with Maeve was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It wasn’t about two people using the other’s body to get off. They had a real connection, one he hoped would last a lifetime. Being with her meant something. He couldn’t say what, but he knew it was a shifting point in his life: before Maeve, and after. And they hadn’t even made it to the main event yet.
“I’m clean too,” he said slowly. The trust she was putting in him blew his mind. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “If I only get to have this with you this one time, I want all of you.”
So that was exactly what he gave her. Twice. And when they finally drifted off to sleep several hours later, Ben knew he’d never be the same.
13
Waking up next to Ben was far too easy. Maeve held her breath for a moment as she registered the warm body curled against hers, one long arm thrown over her waist with a hand tucked under her hip. His slow, even breathing warmed her neck, sending wisps of her hair tumbling across the pillows. A tumult of emotions washed through her with the clarity of morning light peeking through the curtained window of her bedroom. She’d slept with Ben. She’d done a hell of a lot more than sleep with Ben, actually. She’d had the best sex of her entire life. Twice. And there was a ridge pressed firmly against her backside that indicated there might be another round coming, if she was up for it.
Was she up for it? She let her breath out slowly and tried to analyze her feelings. Was Demi Lovato right? Was ruining their friendship worth it? What if she’d ruined everything by finally throwing herself at him? The mix of humiliation and despair and sheer horniness that had sent her tumbling into his arms wasn’t anything to be proud of. She winced. She’d had to talk him into having sex with her. He was a damned good friend, apparently.
“I can hear you thinking.” His voice was low, sexy, and sleepy. “You should stop.” His arm moved, slipping from under her hip to travel along her belly and explore her breasts. When his fingers found her nipple, her brain went blank as electricity shot through her from head to toe. Shivering, she rolled over to face him and he slid his hands up into her hair, pulling her toward him and capturing her lips in a long, devouring kiss.
Somehow, before she knew what was happening, he’d rolled her further until she was on top of him, the blankets falling away as the tip of his cock brushed the sensitive skin at her
center. Gasping, she stared down at him. He was smiling up at her, the same warm, sunny smile he always had, though his eyes were heated as they roved her body in time with his caress. When he grasped her hips firmly and nudged, she rose slightly at his direction, aligning their bodies. She threw her head back as she sank down and he filled her, allowing all thoughts of friendship and the future to slip away as pleasure chased through her veins.
Ben borrowed her shower for a quick rinse, and came back smelling like the Irish soap her mother sent her every month. It gave her a dizzying sense of familiarity as he leaned over her to kiss her forehead.
“Are you okay?” He paused. “Are we okay?”
She nodded. “Still friends, right?” She looked up at him, nerves jangling as she waited for his answer. Unfortunately, all of her concerns had came roaring back with a vengeance while he’d been in her bathroom.
His smile was easy. “Still friends.”
“Nothing’s changed?” Her world had been rocked, but she could deal with it. Probably.
His smile stayed in place, although something seemed slightly different about it. She couldn’t quite identify what it was. “Nothing.”
She sat up, keeping the sheet over her breasts even though it seemed silly given that Ben’s hands and mouth had been all over them not even ten minutes ago. Her nipples were still hard, even though her body was lax. “Now what?”
He crossed his arms over his chest as he stepped back to make room for her to get out of the bed. “You tell me, Maeve.” Something that looked like pain flickered across his face, but it was gone before she could process what it might mean. “I don’t want to lose what we have. I told you that.”
She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. “You mean before I jumped your bones?”
He laughed. “I promise you, the bone-jumping was mutual.”
They both knew she was the one who’d pulled him into this confusing situation, but he was too nice to admit any of that. It was one of the things she adored about him—his unwavering support and kindness. The least she could do was take a step back and try to get them on even footing again.
“So. No more, then.” She rose from the bed and reached for the robe that hung carelessly over a corner of her dresser nearby, shrugging into it before she looked back up at him.
He was nodding. “We got it out of our systems, right?”
Fat chance. Her system was flooded with him. She craved him more with every second. But that wasn’t so different from how she’d felt before, was it? Unfortunately, now she knew exactly what she was missing.
She blew out a breath as she cinched the robe around her waist. “Yeah. Out of our systems.”
He relaxed. She hadn’t realized he’d been holding his body so stiffly. “Great. Listen, I have to get to work, but I’ll text you later, okay?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and walked with him to the front door. There was a long, awkward pause while they decided whether they ought to hug, kiss, or shake hands. Finally, he snaked one long arm around her for a sideways hug and pressed a kiss to the top of her head while she tilted desperately toward him like a flower seeking sunshine. Then he was gone, striding down the walkway to his car.
Maeve’s forehead thunked against the door as she watched him through the peephole. God, she was an idiot. She’d practically forced her best friend to have sex with her, declaring that she didn’t care whether it ruined their friendship. He’d told her he didn’t have many close friends, and because of that, he valued what they had intensely. No matter what either of them said, she knew perfectly well that their friendship wasn’t going to stay the same.
She’d ruined everything, just because she’d had a shitty date.
Her train of thought was interrupted when she realized that Ben had stopped dead on the sidewalk in front of her house. He was standing still, shaking his head. His back was still to her, so she couldn’t see his face. She looked behind her automatically, wondering if he’d forgotten something. She was pretty sure he’d taken his phone and his keys. She swung her head back around to peer through the peephole and found herself face-to-face with Ben. He was back on her doorstep, jaw set and brows drawn down as he knocked firmly.
She gave herself the space of two breaths before she opened the door. No sense letting him know she’d been watching him walk away. That wasn’t what friends who were totally okay and not at all affected by earth-shattering sex did, right?
He started talking as soon as the door was open. “I lied.”
“What?”
He set his hands on her elbows and propelled her backwards into the house, kicking the door closed behind them. “I lied, Maeve. I can’t do it.”
Her heart sank. “Can’t do what?”
He let go of her and ran his hands through his hair, blowing out a sigh. “I can’t go back. It’s like we let some kind of genie out of its bottle.” His gaze roamed over her. “A really sexy genie.”
She couldn’t help but let loose a small snort of laughter. “A sexy genie? That’s where you’re going with this?”
He waved his hands airily. “I’m not a master of metaphor, Maeve. I’m just a man who really, really wants you. Again and again and again.” His voice dropped to a low murmur at the end of his statement, and he moved in close, pressing her back against the wall of the hallway. He tilted his head forward and rested his forehead against hers. She could feel his breath warm against her lips.
She swallowed. “So what do you want to do?”
“Ruin the friendship,” he muttered.
“We did that pretty thoroughly.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to change everything.”
His lips trailed down her cheek and rested lightly against her throat. “I want to take you out.”
She blinked. “What?”
He raised his head, and she almost whined at the loss of his warmth against her skin. “On a date, Maeve.”
She stared blankly at him. “A date?”
He nodded. “A real one.” His lips twisted slightly. “One that starts and ends with the same person, even.”
“I thought you just wanted—”
“Sex?”
She nodded, hating herself for a moment. When had she become this helpless woman who was willing to toss everything out the door for a man—even this man—to get her naked?
“Don’t get me wrong, Maeve. I’m certainly hoping the night heads in that direction.” He offered her a rakish grin and trailed his finger lightly along her waist, making her shiver through the robe. “But I really, really want to spend time with you. Clothed.” He paused. “I mean, mostly.”
“But—”
“We have fun together, right?” She nodded, and he continued. “So isn’t it possible we could have fun together as more than friends? I mean, I’ve never done it before, but I hear it’s possible to have a relationship with somebody you actually like.”
“A relationship?” she squeaked. Something in her brain stuck on the ‘never done it before’ part, but she shook it aside in favor of freaking out about the more immediate prospect.
His arms fell away from her, and he stepped back, looking uncertain. Her heart ached with a physical throb at the expression on his face. “I mean, if you don’t … if you’re not—”
“I am,” she said. “I do. Want to go out with you. It just … seems too good to be true.” She bit her lip.
“Well, that’s flattering.” He grinned at her. “Might want to reserve judgement until you actually go out with me, though.”
She smiled. “I mean, I’ve been out with you plenty, technically.” They’d met up for all sorts of things lately. And she’d always had fun. The idea of going out with him on purpose, romantically, sent anticipatory shivers down her spine. How much more fun could they possibly have?
His jaw dropped. “Wait. Have we been accidentally dating this entire time? Max is going to kill me.”
This time she let out a real laugh, from deep in her belly
. “Definitely not. If we have, we wasted a lot of time getting to last night.”
His heartfelt “God, yes,” made her giggle. Then she sobered as he twined his fingers through hers. “So we’re doing this? We’re trying it? Going out on a limb?”
“If your idea of a date is climbing trees we’re going to have a problem,” she said.
“Not that kind of limb, you nerd.” Affection warmed his voice. “And I think I can come up with something you’ll like.”
She raised her eyebrows. “That sounds like a challenge.”
“Nope. A promise.” He wiggled his fingers at her. “Rooooomance.”
“I can’t wait.” She leaned in, relishing the idea that she could just kiss him anytime, no awkwardness or weirdness involved. Dating was way better than friendship. Assuming it worked out, anyway. She chased that thought away as his lips met hers. She’d already ruined their friendship. What was the worst that could happen now?
14
A week later, Ben reached into the fridge and pulled out two beers. Grabbing the bottle opener, he popped the cap off of both and strolled into Max’s living room.
“Thanks,” Max said, leaning forward to take the bottle of local cult beer from his hands. He’d just put in a full week at Frankie’s, and today was his one day to relax.
“Don’t thank me. You’re the one with the rare beer hookup.” Ben fell back onto the couch, his body sinking into the deep, soft cushions. So much better than the lumpy futon in his small apartment.
Everything about Max’s house was so much better, in fact. The living room was a temple to all things masculine, including a top-of-the-line seventy-inch high-def TV, a stereo system that could shake the walls, two different gaming consoles, and a sectional that sat approximately fourteen grown men for Sunday football.
In a quick moment of weakness, Ben missed his old condo in San Francisco. He didn’t necessarily miss his old life in the city, but it hadn’t been easy giving up all of his fancy belongings when he’d sold the place fully furnished to a twenty-three year old tech millionaire.
The Barista's Beloved (The River Hill Series Book 4) Page 9
