Page 27

CHAPTER 26

T RINA

The sensation of sweat rolling down my back, combined with the humidity in the mid-August air making my entire body feel wet causes me to regret agreeing to go on a run with Ben. I groan audibly. And maybe a little louder than necessary.

We look at each other for a second, and Ben lifts an eyebrow. I face forward again to avoid tripping. Ben seems annoyingly unfazed by the fact that we’ve run two and a half miles breathing in this moist air and have another two and a half to get back to his house.

“You okay over there, Flynn?”

“No. This is miserable. It’s too hot. And it’s too easy for you,” I pant out. “Plus, what kind of maniac goes running at six a.m.?”

Ben laughs in response, but he’s not fooling me. I can see the stress on his face lately, the tightness in his jaw. I notice the way he checks the security system three times every night before bed and how when we go anywhere, he scans our surroundings constantly.

“Is it getting some of that tension out of you, though? Making you a little less stressed?”

“Not as much as kicking your ass when we sparred at my gym did.”

Ben chuckles. “Well, whenever you want to box and Fitz isn’t available, I’m happy to go with you. It’s good for my ego—keeps me in check when my badass wife knocks me down a little.”

I’m getting used to him calling me his wife. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t like it and how it makes my low belly flutter a little each time he says it.

Though doubts about whether this—us—can really work slide into my thoughts here and there, Ben seems to have grown up a lot over the years. He hurt me deeply then, but I believe he learned from it and would handle conflict and powerful emotions differently now.

Still, the underlying stress and lack of control I feel about this stalker situation weighs on me. Whoever the guy is, he’s smart enough to not get caught in the three and a half months Ben has been actively investigating the case.

After I started staying with Ben every night, the texts increased—sometimes up to thirty in a day—despite us changing my phone number. Photos continue to arrive at my house as well, usually once every week. It’s like this person wants me to know that I can’t escape their watchful eye no matter where I go.

Then things escalated when I left work earlier this week; I found the word “slut” carved into the paint of my car. I stupidly parked my car next to the shrubs bordering the station parking area—one of the few spots not in view of the station’s security cameras. At least the position next to the shrubs assured none of my colleagues saw it.

When we arrive back at Ben’s house, I immediately head to take a shower. Even my underwear is wet from sweat. Gross.

When I’m done, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my hair, and then use a second one to dry off my body before throwing on my robe. It’s steamy in here despite the exhaust fan, so I open the bathroom door.

I find Ben standing there. Naked. For a few seconds, I’m tongue-tied because Ben Donley in the literal flesh is a sight to behold. He’s all lean muscle with a trim waist and muscular legs from all of his running. The muscles in his abdomen and chest aren’t bulky but well defined and clearly something he gets from adding some core work and weight training to his workout. And they are delicious.

I rake my eyes over him. Yes, I’ve seen him naked a lot recently. Somehow, it’s different, more sensual, as he stands still, unabashedly letting me drink him in. He must feel the same because when I look down at his cock, it’s standing at full attention.

I have to break this up or I’m going to climb him like a tree and get his sweat all over me.

When I look up at his face, he wears a knowing smirk. Cocky ass.

“How long have you been standing outside the bathroom door all creepy like?”

He moves closer, stopping less than a foot in front of me. His mesmerizing eyes hold mine captive even while he reaches into the shower with his left hand and turns the water on.

“Are we gonna pretend you weren’t just eye fucking me there for a minute?”

I roll my eyes, needing an excuse to break the eye contact, and I turn back to the mirror, remove my towel, and comb through my wet hair.

“You’re pretty sure of yourself there, aren’t you?”

When he moves to stand behind me, my body already expects the nearness and hums with desire. My eyes meet his in our reflection and I can feel his hard cock against my ass and low back. I fight to hold back a whimper.

Without speaking, he reaches his hand in front of me and unties my robe, then places both hands on my hips as the robe falls open.

He leans his upper body closer and rests his head against mine, so his mouth is near my ear, and I shiver in response. His eyes blaze with desire as he watches me in the mirror.

“So, are you telling me that if I slide my hand down to your pussy, I’m not gonna find it soaked for me?” His voice is confident and sexy.

I say nothing, yet hold his heated stare captive to mine as his hands skim my flushed skin, one traveling toward my breasts and the other stopping between my legs. He cups my aching pussy and my full breast for several long seconds and I bite my lower lip, trying to be patient.

Just when I think he’s never going to touch me how I want, his fingers spread me open down my center and he strokes my sensitive flesh. His other hand flicks at my throbbing nipple.

“Fuck, babe. You’re so goddamn wet.”

I moan at his words and press into his hand, fighting against my eyes fluttering shut at how good his touch feels. I want to watch every erotic moment of Ben touching my body, read the desire written across the features of his face.

“Here’s what I think we should do… I’m going to take the world’s fastest shower while you finish combing through your hair. Then we’re going to our bed and I’m gonna spend as long as you’ll let me drawing every ounce of pleasure I can from your body.”

He fixes his sultry gaze on me in the mirror, waiting for my assent. Ben might like to take control in the bedroom—which I thought I’d hate but actually love—but he always treats me with respect and consideration.

I nod at him, and his eyes light up. He leans down and brushes his lips against the sensitive flesh of my neck as he removes his hands from my body. I whimper at the feel of his lips on me and at the loss of his hands.

“Hurry,” I whisper.

I swear it’s only about three minutes later that Ben is out of the shower, dried off and kissing me with a tender, yet passionate intensity, while pushing my robe off my shoulders. We work our way out of the bathroom and to the bed, not allowing our kiss to end.

With me on my back, our lips still locked in a raw, carnal exploration of each other’s mouths, Ben positions his body between my legs. He holds himself up so he doesn’t allow too much of his weight to rest on me.

He pulls back from the kiss and fixes his gorgeous eyes on my face, then reaches up and tenderly brushes my hair from my face.

“Do you have any idea how stunning you are?”

Not knowing how to graciously accept the praise, I attempt to turn my head to the side and divert my gaze from him. He stops me with a hand on my cheek, guiding my head back to align our eyes.

“Don’t look away, babe. It’s true.” It’s hard to focus on his words as he caresses my cheek with the pad of his thumb and our pelvises press together.

I lift to meet his mouth again with mine, drawing him back into another kiss. Within seconds, it intensifies, and he moves his mouth to my neck, kissing all my sensitive spots he clearly never forgot. When his kisses trail down to my breasts and capture an aroused nipple between his lips, teasing me with his tongue, I nearly come off the bed. It feels so amazing. Upping the ante, he alternates between sucking on the aching peak and tugging it between his teeth, applying just enough pressure to make me writhe beneath him without self-restraint.

I push my hips up, needing more.

Like always, Ben seems to know what I need and places one of his large palms on my low belly and slides it down to my center until the heel of his hand rests over my clit. He applies the perfect amount of pressure as he circles my entrance with his finger.

He rolls to the side, and I groan at losing the feeling of his cock touching me. But he laughs around my breast and repositions himself. Now his hand has better access to my pussy and his rock-hard dick pushes into my hip. I moan in approval.

As his fingers work their magic, alternating between massaging my clit and sliding into my body, my senses heighten, and I tremble in anticipation.

“Come for me, Trina,” Ben says, his voice husky.

“Ben…” I’m panting as every nerve in my body begs to release the mounting pleasure.

“Tell me what you need to get there, babe.” His voice is gravelly.

“Harder. Bite hard?—”

My words aren’t even out, and Ben clamps his teeth down on my throbbing nipple. Thunderous pleasure blasts through my body as I’m swept away into an amazing orgasm.

“That’s it. You’re fucking perfect. Jesus…” Ben’s voice is rough and gravelly, and I love it.

“In me, please. I need you in me now.” I’m begging and I don’t even care because when Ben moves over me and slides his rigid cock into me, I feel full and satisfied.

At first, he thrusts in and out of me fast and hard, knowing that’s what I usually need to come down after an orgasm.

Then it changes.

The pace, the feel of what we’re doing changes. Our movements sync as we slow the tempo of our joining. Our eyes anchor to each other’s, only adding to the intimacy. Like a slow burn, my desire and the sensations his body brings out of mine rise to the surface until I’m so close to coming again I feel like I’ll combust if I don’t. I war with my brain to let go of my control and let the pleasure consume me. To let Ben draw it all out of me.

“This is all I need in life. Only you and me, Tri.”

And that sends me flying over the edge. With a drawn-out moan of ecstasy, my brain lets go and allows my body to be consumed by the physical pleasure and my heart to be filled by the emotional connection Ben brings to my life.

As he finds his release, we ride out the waves of our mutual pleasure together until we’ve both come down. Ben rolls onto his back and draws me into his arms, nestled to his side, with my head on his chest.

I listen to the pounding of his rapid heartbeat as we both allow our breathing to return to a normal rate.

While I lie here in Ben’s arm, I’m struck by two things. First, beyond a doubt, what we just did wasn’t fucking. We made love. And the second—I think I might be in love with my husband.