Page 17

CHAPTER 16

B EN

After I pick up Trina, I wait until we’re far enough from her house that she won’t want to walk home before I tell her I went to see Joe Alero today. I figured she’d be upset I went in person rather than waiting for him to call me back. So, I quickly vomit out all the details of the visit before she can get a word in.

And I was right about one thing. She’s fuming.

“What an absolute asshole!”

“I’m sorry. I probably should have?—”

Then she… laughs. Bellows, actually. “I’m not talking about you, Ben. I’m talking about Joe. Why the hell bother to fire the kid in the first place if you’re gonna hire him back when you move on to the next town?”

“My thoughts exactly,” I agree. We’ve pulled into Enzo’s parking lot, and I maneuver my vehicle over to a free spot. There are hardly any cars here, which means it should be a nice, quiet dinner.

The SUV is off now, and she unbuckles and is out of the car before I can get around to her side to open the door for her. I beat her to the restaurant door at least, so I hold that open for her.

The aroma of roasted garlic and Italian spices fills the air inside the restaurant, and I breathe it in as deep as I can to savor it. Enzo’s smells delicious, and it makes my stomach growl, but it also brings back memories of coming here with my family as a kid on Thursdays when my dad was off.

It was also the first place I brought Trina on an official date all those years ago. I love this place.

When we tell the hostess we need a table for two, she grabs a few menus and directs us to follow her. Trina goes first and, on instinct, I put my hand on the small of her back when we walk.

When she shivers under my touch, I pull my hand away and mumble, “Sorry about that.”

We arrive at our table, and she smiles, sweetly almost, and answers, “It’s okay.”

After we’re seated, we both take a moment to skim over the menu. “Do you still like mushrooms and onions on your pizza?” I ask, without looking up from the plastic menu.

I’m met with her silence, which draws my attention to her, and I look up to find her lips slightly parted and her gorgeous sapphire eyes homed in on me.

“You remember what I like on my pizza after all this time?”

My cheeks heat and I shrug my right shoulder. “Sure. I remember lots of things about you. I used to pay close attention to what you enjoyed.”

“Like what?” she whispers. Her expression does something to me.

The way you’d squirm when my mouth was on your beautiful pussy but beg me for more.

I take a drink of my water to wet my throat and buy myself a few seconds to gather my thoughts. Fuck, get it together, man.

“Like how much you love that sugary grape soda you always drank, how you’ll only use the Glide type dental floss because the waxy texture of the other brands annoys you, or how you hate getting anything sticky on you. Nothing major.” Or like how you moan and whimper right before you come.

Jesus Christ, what is my problem?

Trina says nothing, just watches me as she bites the corner of her lower lip. Right as I’m about to say something else to break up the silence, our server comes back to take our order. We go with a mushroom and onion pizza with a house salad for each of us and a pitcher of beer.

When the server walks away, I notice Trina wringing her hands and looking down at the table. She takes a deep breath, nods to herself, and looks up at me.

“So, something kind of happened today that could be pertinent to my… situation.”

I’m halfway to my mouth with my glass of water when her words make my arm freeze midair. After a second, I lower my cup to the table and lean toward her.

“Tell me.” She furrows her brow at my tone. “Please,” I add, softer.

“Well, do you remember the cop from Meadow Creek I danced with on New Year’s Eve?”

I huff. “Uh, yeah. One of my prime suspects?” I ask sarcastically. “And even if he wasn’t, I’m pretty sure I’ll never forget his face when you pulled him to you to dance that night.”

She chuckles. “That’s a weird thing to say. He has a normal face.”

“Yeah, maybe on a regular day, but that night he looked like he thought he struck gold. Fucker.”

“Why, Ben, were you a little jealous?” The teasing, almost flirty lilt in her voice fills my chest with a pleasant tingling sensation.

I’m one hundred percent sure she doesn’t expect honesty. But I’ve got to keep her on her toes, not wanting to be too predictable. “Hell yeah, I was jealous. I hated watching him get to touch you. Absolutely fucking hated it.”

“Well, good thing that sexy brunette kept you occupied and took your mind off me, huh?” she jokes. But her eyes are hardened and her smile is tight, forced almost.

“She did no such thing. I danced with her, sure. But I can promise that it was you I was watching all night. You had my attention, and I knew where you were and who you were talking to at any given minute.”

“Oh my God, you’re laying it on so thick and you are such a bullshitter.”

“I’m not. How do you think I knew to come chasing after you when you left the bar?”

Her eyes widen and a slight smile flits across her gorgeous mouth.

I pin her with my gaze, refusing to look away. I love when her cheeks flush a rosy pink.

She reaches up and grips her long, smooth ponytail in her hands and starts twirling it between her fingers. “Um. So, anyway, back to my story. John was outside my gym when I left today, leaning against his cruiser. And… and I think he had been waiting for me, though he didn’t outright admit that’s why he was there. He asked me out to dinner, too. I guess it could have been a weird coincidence, like he saw me walk in when he was driving by and waited. But, after the incident at the Valentine’s fundraiser I told you about before, I wasn’t sure.”

Anger and frustration make my blood boil. There is no part of me that thinks it was coincidental that he was waiting outside her gym. He just jumped to the top of my suspect list. As well as my shit list since he asked my wife to dinner…

* * *

TRINA

“Palatial!” I yell out. I jump off my couch and fist pump the air since I finished the daily word jumble before Ben.

When we left Enzo’s, the night was still young, too early to go to bed for sure. So, when we got home—to my home, I mean—we locked up the house and made a friendly wager that whoever got the daily word jumble figured out first could make the other do one thing for them.

“Ugh,” Ben exaggeratedly moans. “What will you have me do, my liege?”

I smirk at him. “I want you to rub my,”—Ben smiles and his eyes suddenly twinkle—“My feet, you perv. For fifteen minutes, while we watch the next episode of Bridgerton .”

“Those smelly things?” he teases.

I toss a throw pillow at him. “My feet do not smell. Everything on me smells like roses.”

A boyish grin flits across Ben’s face, and my heart flutters a bit. He used to smile like that all the time when we were together that summer. I forgot how much I loved that grin of his.

He hands me the remote. “All right. Climb back up on this couch, you sore winner. Queue up the show while I get started massaging those feet.” He pats his lap, and I suddenly remember that in order to have him rub my feet, they’re going to have to rest on his lap. Over his um… his…

“Earth to Trina,” Ben teases. “Where’d your mind go just then?”

My heart is racing, and I send up a silent prayer that he can’t see it bounding away in my carotid pulse on my neck.

“Nowhere.” I sit back on the couch and get the show ready, pressing play, then gingerly put my feet on Ben’s thigh, taking great care not to move too close to center.

About ten minutes into the episode, I’m so enthralled by the storyline and so relaxed by Ben, using his thumbs to work the knots out of my arches, that I accidentally moan out loud. I pray to all that is holy that Ben didn’t hear me, but when I sneak a peek over at him and see his impish smirk, it’s obvious he did.

“Hey, don’t blame me. You give a fantastic foot rub.”

The fifteen minutes pass and my feet feel better than they have in forever. Ben doesn’t stop and I’m sure not going to remind him the time is up. Not even when he moves from my feet up to my ankles… and then my calves.

To be honest, by the time the episode is almost over, Ben has given everything below my knees a thorough rubdown. Damn if I’m not totally turned on now as well. I know it’s just a very lower body rub, but the sensation of his hands on me and the attention to detail the man gives has other parts of my body aching to be touched. Especially now that I remember how good he is with his hands.

I need to shut this down. I cannot let this happen with him. He’s my husband, for God’s sake. He’ll get the wrong idea.

I hastily shut off the TV and practically jump to a seated position.

“I’m tired. I think I’m gonna go to bed.” I don’t look at him while I’m talking, but when I stand and turn toward him, he’s staring at me with hooded eyes, a softness in them I can only describe as bedroom eyes.

Less than ten minutes later, we’ve double checked the locks and alarms and have walked upstairs. My bedroom comes first, so when we get to it, Ben says goodnight and continues down the hall.

“Ben?” I say when he’s a few feet away.

He turns and looks at me. “Yeah?”

Don’t ask. Don’t ask.

“What would your prize have been if you won tonight?”

A shy smile I’ve hardly ever seen on this usually confident man lifts the corners of his mouth. “I was gonna ask for a goodnight kiss,” he practically whispers.

I fix my gaze on him, and we stand looking at each other for several long seconds. I pad over to him, step up on my tiptoes, and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight,” I whisper. I leave him standing in the hall while I escape into the safety of my room.

An hour and a half later, I’ve tossed and turned, willing sleep to come, but there’s a frenetic energy in me that refuses to allow me to drift off. I’ve tried touching myself to ease some of the tension, but it helped very little. My body won’t be fooled. It knows what it wants and tonight, it’s not me, or even my trusty electric friend, that can satisfy this itch.

Hot and irritable, I climb out of bed and head downstairs to get something to drink. Only when I get to my kitchen, there’s a soft glow coming from the open refrigerator. And it illuminates Ben’s body, clad only in boxer briefs and nothing else as he peers into the fridge.

I should turn around and sneak back to my bedroom. But I don’t. I should alert him I’m here, but I don’t. Not immediately, anyway. I watch him for several long seconds, taking in what a gorgeous specimen of a man he is with rippled back muscles and a tapered waist I’m sure comes from his dedication to long distance running.

I clear my throat, deciding it’s better to make my presence known before I whimper at the eye candy before me.

Ben spins at the sound I make, and he lets the refrigerator door shut. Now only the light of the full moon shining in the window illuminates the room. Somehow, it’s even more sensual than seeing him in the brighter light of the fridge.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just coming down for something to drink.”

Ben chuckles. “You weren’t interrupting. I wasn’t doing anything clandestine. I was looking for something to drink, too.”

“Oh.” It’s all I can get out.

Jesus, what is wrong with me? I know that it’s been a while since I’ve been with a man seeing as how I’m married and such now, and I can’t even remember my wedding night. But I’m a confident woman. I’m aware of what I bring to the table and yet something tells me that being with Ben now that we’ve both got some maturity under our belts would be life altering.

That has me practically salivating.

“Is that all you need, Trina?”

I glance up and Ben is now only six inches away from me.

“Huh?” I look up. I love that he’s significantly taller than me. Most men aren’t. Hell, at five-foot nine inches, it’s almost hard to find a man taller than me, especially if I want to wear heels. But at six foot four inches, even in my highest heels, Ben’s taller than me.

“I asked if that is all you need?” His voice is low, gravelly.

“Um…”

Almost as if in slow motion, giving me a chance to decline it, he raises his hand to my cheek and trails his knuckles down the sensitive skin and onto my neck. On instinct, I lift my head to give him better access to my neck. He moves sensually along my neck, to my chin, which he tenderly grips between his index finger and thumb, before taking his thumb and stroking the pad over my bottom lip.

A needy whimper escapes me.

“God, Trina, your sweet sounds have always been my downfall.”

He moves to pull his hand away, but I grab his wrist to stop him, and his eyes dart up to meet mine.

“What do you want? Tell me.”

I stare at him for several long seconds. I know what I want; the question is whether I should go there.

My body and my heart decide for me. “I want a better goodnight kiss than I gave you earlier.”

I’ve barely gotten the words out and Ben’s lips are on mine. Slow and softer than silk at first. On my first low moan, I part my lips slightly and he takes it for the invitation that it is, pushing his tongue into my mouth.

As he deepens the kiss, he fists a handful of my hair and uses it to tilt my head exactly how he wants it. I press my body in closer, suddenly unable to get near enough to him to satisfy me.

When he backs me up to the counter and grabs me under both sides of my ass, lifting me onto the countertop, I wrap my legs around his waist and pull his pelvis to mine. He growls his approval, and it only makes me hotter.

I’m suddenly frantic, my hands in his hair, digging into his back, gripping his face. I need this man. Holy shit, I remember that being physical with young Ben was hot, but Ben all grown up is a fucking fire in my veins.

I lean my head back on the cupboards, exposing my neck to him. He licks and nips and kisses my tender skin until I’m nearly falling apart.

“Trina?” he whispers.

“Hmm?”

“Do you trust me to give you what you need right now and to not take more?”

Do I? Yes. Unequivocally, yes.

“Yes, please. Give me what I need. Please.”

“I’ve got you, baby.” He moves his hands down to the hem of my sleep shorts. “Lift,” he commands.

Damn if I don’t love take charge Ben. I do exactly as he says, and my panties and sleep shorts are both off me in an instant.

“You tell me if it’s too much. Okay?” His voice is soft and reassuring.

I expect him to touch me with his fingers, but he bends down and brings his mouth to my pussy. I cry out in a mixture of shock and pleasure as he runs his warm tongue along the full length of me.

“God, your pussy is drenched. And you taste so fucking good. I’ve missed the taste of you.”

He lifts each of my legs over his shoulders and buries his face in me. Within seconds, I’m squirming and writhing under his expert tongue as he brings me nearer to climax.

I grip a handful of his hair, pulling his face even closer to me, if that’s possible. He moans his approval against my clit, and I nearly come undone.

Jesus Christ, when did he get so good at this?

He expertly works his tongue between my clit and diving inside me and I’m sure I’m going to die from how unbelievably good this feels. When he slides two fingers into my dripping pussy and fucks me with them while his tongue works my clit, I lose it and my pussy clamps down on his fingers as my orgasm rips through me. I ride the waves of pleasure as they crest and recede repeatedly, and Ben never lets up on my body until he’s wrung all the pleasure from it.

When it’s over, I throw my head back against the cabinets and he stands before pulling my upper body into him, holding me close.

I’m so relaxed I’m positive I’d fall off the counter if he wasn’t supporting my body. As he guides my head to his chest, he allows me all the time I need to come down off the high he just took me to.

“Christ, you got so good at that. Not that you were bad at it before, but you must have been practicing a lot since we were last together,” I pant out.

Ben releases an amused chuckle. “Not at all. It’s been almost ten years…”

His words hit me, and I pull back, now searching his eyes with my own. “What?” I whisper.

Ben shrugs. “I told you I hadn’t kissed another woman romantically since you. I wasn’t lying.”

“You said you hadn’t kissed anyone on the lips,” I say incredulously.

Ben just lifts an eyebrow and smirks. I roll my eyes.

“These lips, perv,” I tell him, pointing to my mouth.

He leans back from me a bit and places a hand on each of my cheeks, looking directly into my eyes. “Trina, my lips have not touched another woman’s body anywhere romantically since you.”

“Why?” I whisper.

Ben shakes his head subtly. “Because I couldn’t stand the thought of my mouth on any other woman like that. I always wanted and needed you to be the last woman I tasted.”