Page 18

October

Benny:

What room are you in?

Me:

Who’s asking?

Benny:

Me . . . obviously.

Me:

Room 707. Why?

Benny:

We’re not on the same floor.

Me:

I think that was intentional.

Benny:

Yeah, they never have management on the same floor as the players.

Me:

Right . . . well, as riveting as this conversation is, there’s a bath calling my name.

Benny:

The guys want to meet my fiancée.

They are insistent they get to meet you before their women get their hands on you.

I stare at his text for so long that the text bubbles appear and disappear five times before a third text from him comes through and makes me freeze.

Benny:

I’ll be up to get you in five. Put some clothes on and join us.

Or don’t, and I’ll have an excuse to help resurrect those memories you seem to have forgotten from years ago. Just kidding . . . we’ve got rules to follow ;)

Was that another attempt at Bennett flirting?

Me:

When you say join us?

Benny:

I mean join me and a few of the guys for drinks at the hotel bar. You’ve got four minutes, Little Red.

I scramble off the bed and sift through hangers in the hotel closet until I find the black halter-top cocktail dress I brought in case I needed a dressier outfit.

The top is fitted with a skirt that somewhat flares at the bottom and has an eye-drawing slit up the front.

I hope Bennett wishes he never asked me to leave this room when he sees me in it.

Why in the hell did I open my big mouth and put a “no crossing the line” rule in place?

I’m blaming it on the panic and fear I had from flying for the first time.

Am I pathetic for wanting to say fuck it and make an amendment?

Perhaps, but there’s just no way I’ll be able to resist Bennett for three freaking years.

Just the thought of that alone is like actual torture.

I’ve just clasped the eye fastener on my top when a knock sounds at the door. I quickly spray my Chanel No. 5 onto my wrist and dab it across my pulse points before grabbing my black Saint Laurent clutch off my bed and stepping into my black Christian Louboutin pumps.

A second later I open the door to find a devastatingly handsome Bennett standing with his shoulder leaned against the doorframe, the picture of casual sexiness.

He looks like maybe he’s showered and trimmed his beard since the flight.

His hair is now pushed back and styled in a way that makes me crave to run my fingers through it and mess it up.

My core clenches as I take in the way his sage cashmere sweater clings to his chest and biceps.

He’s got the damn sleeves pulled up, exposing his delicious forearms, with his hands in his pockets.

He’s still wearing his suit pants and dress shoes, and the sight of him looking effortlessly polished has me weak in the knees.

Damn him and his good looks; I wanted to be the one to knock him off his feet. And damn me for making that stupid rule.

“Red,” he lets out in a low whisper, his eyes smoldering as he takes me in.

Well, I’ll be damned. Warmth and longing I haven’t felt in six years have me flexing my stomach to contain the butterflies threatening to break free. It takes everything in me not to shout the thoughts screaming in my head. I take back the damn rule. Fuck me right here. Right now.

“You don’t clean up so bad yourself, Benny Boy.” My cheeks burn under his aching gaze. “Shall we?” I ask him before stepping out into the hall and shutting the door behind me.

“After you,” he gestures toward the elevators before placing his hand on the small of my back as we walk down the hallway. “I’m sorry about this. Apparently, Jax isn’t affected by my threatening tone anymore.”

“Was that what that was? Hmm,” I hum in indifference.

“It was,” he clarifies, clearly annoyed with Jax.

“Then I can see why we’re headed to meet them for drinks. So, cat’s outta the bag? Who all knows?”

“Just Jax, Carse, and Griff,” he tells me as we step into the elevator and he presses the button for the rooftop where the hotel’s restaurant and bar are located.

“Well that’s not so bad,” I tell him as I lean against the wall of the elevator farthest from him.

“Were you anticipating that we’d be walking into an engagement party with the entire team?” Bennett asks as he leans back against the opposite wall of the elevator and crosses one foot over the other with his hands in his pockets again.

God, my fiancé is stupid hot. Suddenly I remember the first time the two of us were alone in an elevator.

Bennett balances me against the wall as he hikes up the silk skirt of my dress before slamming his hips against mine once more. The feel of his erection through his suit pants rubs perfectly against my exposed clit.

“Stop,” Bennett commands roughly.

“Stop what?” I ask, blinking out of the memory.

“Stop thinking about that night, or I’ll be forced to stop this elevator and bring it all to the forefront of your memory.

Rules be damned. It’s written all over your face, and even if it weren’t, you’re practically panting over there,” he says in a gravelly tone, gesturing to my chest. “Tell me, Scar,” he starts as he stalks across the elevator toward me, “if I were to drift my fingers up between those perfect legs, would I find your pussy wet and needy for me?”

“Bennett,” I start as a whisper but end as a gasp when he reaches me and pauses with his hand on my thigh at the hem of the slit of my dress. My pussy throbs in anticipation of where this could go. “If you drift your fingers any higher, you’ll be met with my soaking, bare pussy.”

“Fuuuuck, Scar,” he groans and rests his forehead against mine. “Let me guess, you didn’t want panty lines again?”

“You’re picking up on things quickly,” I whisper to him, waiting with bated breath to see where this will go.

Disappointment floods me when Bennett drops his hand from my thigh as the elevator chimes and the doors open to the bar’s entrance.

My feet remain rooted in place as I try to calm my racing heart.

Bennett steps back and walks out of the elevator but turns around and holds the door with his arm when he notices I haven’t moved yet.

“Is that a hint of disappointment I see on your face, Little Red? Hmm.” He pauses as if pondering something. “How about this, if you’re a good little fiancée, perhaps we can pick up where we left off when I escort you back to your room. But only if you beg me to break the rules.”

My pussy clenches at the promise in his tone and begs me to be on my best behavior, but my strong will won’t let him get away with that bullshit.

“Thank you, dear , for reminding me what an arrogant man I’m engaged to,” I purr as I brush past him. I’m about to dazzle the hell out of his friends so he can eat his words later. I don’t plan on begging, he’ll willingly drop to his knees.

Bennett

Scarlett Carlisle is the most frustratingly stubborn woman. If she didn’t drive me so crazy with want, it’d almost be endearing.

She’s currently making me pay for my comment in the elevator.

I haven’t quite figured out if it’s because I teased us both and pulled away, if it’s because I crossed the line of our no-touch rule, or if it’s because I told her she had to earn picking up where we left off. Honestly, probably all of the above.

Her willingness to go to battle with me has my dick twitching behind my zipper each time she sends a witty retort my way.

Or right now, for example, when we lock eyes from across the bar and she sends me a wink before turning back to listen to whatever Carson is talking about.

Yeah, she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

Scar won the three of them over within a matter of minutes, not that she needed to earn their approval. But seeing her so easily interact with three of my closest friends has me smiling to myself like a fool.

“Look at you,” Jax says, slapping me on the shoulder before sidling up next to me at the bar as I wait for our second round of drinks. “You’re looking at Scarlett like she hung the moon.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing, considering she’s about to become my wife.”

Fuck, I think I like the sound of that far too much for someone who hadn’t really thought about marriage up until a few days ago.

“And how did that come about so quickly?” he asks, curiosity shining in his eyes.

“Why are you asking?”

“I’m happy for you, big bro, I really am.

I just can’t help but wonder if there’s more to the story than you’re letting on.

I mean, when we got drinks about a month ago, you had just left her house after your first lesson with Gemma and you swore up and down things were platonic—that you were just doing her a favor.

Now I hear you’ve been together since the family skate, but I thought she basically told you to go to hell after that. ”

“So?” I ask in a tone that borders on defensive.

“So, do you love her?”

My shoulders stiffen at his question. “People don’t always marry for love, J. You and I know that better than anyone,” I tell him.

“And that’s exactly where my concern lies,” he says, shaking his head.

“Look, Scarlett seems like an amazing woman. I think she’d be a great match for you—she’d keep you on your toes and I doubt she’d let you get away with your typical moody bullshit.

But you’re right, you and I know better than anyone what happens in a loveless marriage.

And it’s not just the two of you from what you’ve told me, you’ve got to consider Gemma and Gunner as well,” he points out and I’m not mad at him for it.

Jackson’s concerns are coming from a good place, and I’m glad that he’s not just looking out for me, but the three people about to become my family as well.