Page 77 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)

HARRIET FISHER

K issing Ben has become my favorite activity.

From a girl who never fantasized about kissing, all my brain does now is cycle through the kisses we’ve had this past week.

The push-me-up-against-the-wall kisses in the storage room at the End of the World.

The pick-me-up-in-his-arms kisses when he comes over to my apartment.

The bury-his-tongue-in-my-mouth kisses in his building’s stairwell.

I’ve loved every single one.

We aren’t an official couple or even technically dating.

Not when Ben is still hard stuck on his wilderness plans.

He reminds me he’s leaving after almost every kiss, which makes me feel like I’m freefalling off a steep cliff.

But I get why he does it. He’s scared to create any false hope.

Not that I ever believed my kissing skills could convince him to stay.

I’m not an idiot—I don’t even think sex will do the trick. He’s adamant he’s leaving.

Except…it’s November 6 th . And he’s still here.

He told me it’s because of Classical Mythology. He wants to keep the promise he made to be there for the group presentation, which is scheduled for the end of November. So I have less than a month.

Less than one month left with Ben Cobalt unless his brothers convince him to stay in New York.

It’s the last thing I think before I put a fist to his apartment door and knock.

Ben opens the door, his hair styled in soft waves and his dark pants slung low on his hips. He’s not wearing a shirt, and I can’t tell if I’m more distracted by the ridges of his well-defined abs or the way he smells.

Because he smells…amazing. Pine and mint waft off him in the freshest scent.

Along with a dizzying musk. His natural man-smell makes me stupidly feral.

Like I could bury my face in his washboard abs.

Like I could make a fabric softener with that fragrance and spritz it daily on all my clothes and blankets.

Like I am obsessed, okay. And maybe it’s a little unbecoming.

But fuck it, I am obsessed with this guy.

Weirdly, happily, obnoxiously obsessed.

I’m flushing when he smiles down at me and lets me inside.

I rummage through the tote bag on my shoulder.

“I have flashcards, B12 supplements, and chocolate-covered espresso beans. The vegan kind.” He called me twenty minutes ago to ask for help studying for his Marine Biology exam, and I rushed over here with far too much glee for someone about to have a full night conversing about plankton.

But Ben has never asked me to help him study, and he’s passed on my offer to help him too many times to count. He’s always said, “I don’t really care what grade I get.” For someone who’s planning to drop out of school, I understand that he wouldn’t put too much emphasis on passing his classes.

So this newfound interest in studying has blossomed some hope. Maybe his brothers got to him. Maybe he’s reconsidering his plans to jet off to Nebraska or South Dakota or the farmlands of Iowa. I still don’t know where he’s going, so my brain keeps placing him in a bunch of random states.

“I also have highlighters in four different colors,” I continue. “I figured you probably bought your textbooks instead of rented them which makes it easier because we can just highlight directly on the pages.”

He hasn’t said anything, and when I glance up, he’s smiling down at me like he’s absorbing my frantic, study energy with amusement.

“We’ll use the B12 and the espresso beans,” he finally says. “But I don’t think we’ll need the flashcards or the highlighters tonight.”

I’m about to ask why, but then he leads me farther into the apartment, and my feet stumble to a halt. Candles . So many candles flicker on the bookshelves and the windowsills, the lighting far too romantic and moody for just studying.

My eyes go wide. “Friend?”

Ben casually leans against the back of the couch, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His smile reaches his eyes, and all of it—him, the million-dollar apartment, the candles—is beyond sexy.

“Fisher,” he says my name in a deep husk. “We have the apartment to ourselves.”

My fingers lose grip, and I drop the tote to the ground. Shock churning to a wave of excitement. “How?” We’ve tried for over a month to have alone time here with literally no success. I’ve been thinking that we might have to settle for Harold or a motel, but this is so epically better.

“It’s Wednesday Night Dinner,” he explains. “All my brothers are down in Philly…except Beckett. He has rehearsals for The Nutcracker , but he said that he’d spend the night at a friend’s and give us the place.” He winces. “I only told Beck. It was kind of necessary. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Beckett Cobalt knows that Ben and I are sleeping together.

Will be sleeping together. A heat wave courses through me.

But I’d much rather Beckett know than not be able to have sex with Ben.

If I’m being super honest, I wouldn’t care if all his brothers found out.

It means he’s not trying to sweep me under the proverbial rug, and just Ben sharing this with Beckett makes me feel valued in a way.

“I don’t mind,” I confirm. “I’m just processing.

I thought we agreed the Wednesday Night Dinner strategy wouldn’t work.

” We know this is the one night most of his brothers vacate the apartment, but if Ben called in sick or made an excuse about needing to miss dinner, it’d just trigger their concern and make them rush back here to check on him.

“That was before I had Beckett to reinforce my alibi.”

“Which is?”

“I’m studying for a Marine Biology exam.” He waves a hand toward me. “My study partner just showed up though, so I might get distracted. But who can really blame me?” His eyes drink me in, and a flush ascends my neck.

I can’t hide my smile. “So this is official? It’s real?”

“Fisher, I did not just light fifty candles for fun.”

I take a step forward and stop. “Um…can I use the bathroom real quick?” I motion toward the one down Eliot and Tom’s hallway.

“Yeah.” He nods, and I try not to run.

When I shut the door, I go into full-on freak-out mode.

I sniff my pits. Fine . But they surely don’t smell like pine and mint.

I pull at the waistband of my plaid pants and check which underwear I have on today.

OhmyGod. I’m wearing my ugly undies. The ones I wear the day before wash.

They were once white. Now they’re a shade of orangish pink.

I remember there’s a hole in the crotch from over-washing them.

I should have thrown them out five hundred years ago!

Leaning into the sink, I tap my forehead lightly on the marble. Idiot. What do I do? Remove them? I didn’t bring my tote bag in here, so where would I even throw them? I could wrap them up in a wad of toilet paper and bury them in the little trash bin by the sink.

But what happens when Ben realizes I’m going commando underneath my pants. Isn’t that weirder than wearing old underwear?

My pulse races as I bring my palm up to my mouth and exhale. I can’t tell if my breath stinks. Maybe I should use some toothpaste. I’m sweating. I try to waft my shirt. That’s probably causing me to smell.

Why do I even care?

I haven’t thought too hard about “preparing” for sex with Ben before. I certainly never gave a shit with past hookups. But this is so far from meaningless sex. And now that I’m smack dab in the moment of it, all I want to do is make sure it’s right. Perfect.

There’s a soft tap on the door. “Harriet?” Ben asks. “You okay in there? Do you need anything?”

This is stupid . I shouldn’t be freaking out. It’s Ben. He’s put his fingers inside of me already. This shouldn’t be any different.

Still, my heart hammers in heavy thumps as I open the door. Ben has an elbow propped on the frame, filling the space in a casual confidence that is way too hot for this room.

I’m going to sweat.

His concern fills his blue eyes as he stares down at me. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t prepare for this,” I tell him. Honesty just pours out of me because he makes me feel comfortable enough to release the truth.

Realization washes over his face. “Do you…need to prepare?” His gaze does a full body examination, and I’m too turned on to even think clearly.

I just say, “I wore the wrong underwear.”

His lips lift into an amused smile. “What about them is wrong?” He’s staring at my crotch like he has X-ray vision.

Why is that so attractive? Why am I glowering? “They have holes,” I admit. “I was contemplating ditching them in the trash so you wouldn’t see them.”

His brows rise. “Holes in your panties sound convenient for tonight, Fisher.”

My lips part in arousal. “As enticing as that does sound, I’m really not looking forward to being fucked in the ugliest panties I own.”

He nods once. “Then take them off.”

His eyes don’t leave mine, and the way he says those words like they’re such a simple request quickens my breath in a heady need.

“Now?” I ask.

He nods again. “We have the entire apartment,” he reminds me. “Take off your ugly panties, Friend.”

I lick my dried lips. He’s going to watch me do this? That turns me on even more. Still filling the doorway, he watches me as I unbutton my red plaid pants.

Slowly, I shimmy them down, hooking my thumbs in my panties to lower them with my pants. It’s one movement, then I’m standing in nothing but my cropped tee and a pair of socks.

Ben doesn’t glance at my bare pussy. His eyes are on mine. “Better?” he asks.

I squeeze my legs together, wetness building between them. “Problem solved.”