The Street Where She Lives

“And I thought you were so adventurous.”

“I’ll give you adventurous in your bed.”

When they got there, he tumbled her to the mattress and followed her down, carefully pinning her arms over her head, holding her captive while he slowly and surely stripped her bare. Insinuating himself between her thighs, he looked into her beautiful eyes. Her beautiful, wet eyes. His heart cracked and broke. “Ah, no. Rach-”

“Love me, Ben. Just shut up and love me.”

Hadn’t he always?

“This has to last us,” she whispered. “After this…I can’t do it again, I can’t-” Her breath hitched. “I can’t keep watching you go-”

“Shh.” He bent his head for a kiss, filling his hand with her breast, indulging himself in her softness, the feel of her, the sounds that came from her throat, the taste of her skin… She was hot, ready and more than willing when he slid down farther, running his mouth over every inch.

The way she arched and squirmed and cried out nearly undid him, so he held her writhing, damp body still. If she so much as touched him, she’d take him right over the edge. He might have let her, too, if he hadn’t wanted more, so much more.

“Ben…please, now.”

“Now,” he agreed, and put his lips on her, there.

She bucked right into his mouth. Perfect. Holding on, he took her slowly, using his tongue, his teeth, teasing her with soft, little licks, and when she was mewling at him, he pushed her harder, switching to long, languid strokes that choked another cry out of her.

Her head thrashed on the pillow, her fingers fisted in his hair, pulling, holding him…as if he intended to go anywhere. “Come for me,” he whispered. “Come in my mouth.” He slipped a finger into her soft folds, coaxing the sweet spot on her body into a hard little bud.

“Don’t stop,” she begged him, shamelessly arching into his hand. “Please…don’t stop.”

“Not on my life,” he promised, and watched her fall apart for him.

When she’d stopped shuddering, he surged to his knees and managed, barely, to get on a condom.

Then, while she was still sighing with pleasure, he sank inside her. At the hot, wet feel of her surrounding him, hunger and desire mingled, skittering down his spine, pooling between his legs. Curling his toes. Moving his mouth to hers, holding her to him, he thrust all the way home, and she went wild beneath him.

Watching her, hearing her, with the taste of her still on his lips, he thrust again, catching her every whimper, her every breath, with his mouth. Her shudders rippled down her body to his. Another thrust and his body started to tighten and contract, too, pulsing with the need for release. Again. Then again, losing himself in her soft, wet heat, following her over, shattering into nirvana as he poured himself into her.

Dazed, spent, he stared down into her face, knowing the truth.

There was no doubt now.

He’d gone and fallen all the way in love with her.

Again.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

RACHEL LAY SIDEWAYS on the bed, her head hanging off, and a heavy weight on her chest that turned out to be Ben.

With a groan, Ben lifted his head. “Did you ID whatever hit us?”

“Don’t worry, it’s on its way to Africa.” It came out of her mouth before she could think, and of course, she regretted it immediately. “Ben…”

“No. It’s okay.” He rolled to his side, putting a hand flat on her belly to hold her to the bed. His fingers danced over her skin, and even now, when she should be sated and limp as a noodle, he drew shivers with his touch. “I can’t change, Rachel.”

“Because you’re too stubborn? Or too old?”

While he pondered that, she pushed his hand away and sat up. Forcing her boneless legs to function, she got off the bed in search of her clothes.

Which, apparently, they’d lost far before the bedroom, as there wasn’t a single item to be found.

“Here.” He came up behind her with her robe, then turned her to face him, his eyes filled with so much pain she could hardly look at him. Try my pain on for size, she wanted to cry, but she fisted her hands rather than beat them over his chest. He was a grown man, and she wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t even ask. “I can take Em to L.A. tomorrow. You can catch an earlier flight out. Tonight, if you’d like.”

“I have one last night,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t take it from me.”

You could have an infinite number of nights if you’d but ask. Pride made her push instead. “I wouldn’t take a thing from you, Ben Asher.”

“But you’d see me go early?”

She stared up at him, the lie backing up in her throat, but it was far too late to save her heart. She’d long ago lost it-to the only man she’d ever given it to. The very man standing in front of her, stricken, lost. Alone.

Of his own making, she reminded herself. “Yes, I’d see you go early.”

“No,” he said in such a low voice she almost missed it. “But I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Fine.”

“Goodbye, Rachel.”

She didn’t answer, and Ben had no idea if that was because she didn’t know how or she didn’t care.

Once, he’d wondered if anything could hurt as much as losing her all those years ago, and now, as he walked out of her room, he had his answer.

This hurt as much. This hurt worse. His insides shattered along with his heart and soul, and as he entered his bedroom and grabbed his duffel bag out from under the bed to pack it, everything within him rebelled.

This trip had been temporary, he reminded himself. He’d wanted temporary, he lived for temporary.

But that had been before. Before he’d gotten to know Emily as a father should. Before he’d lived the actual little details of everyday life and found them not nearly as tedious as he’d imagined them.

Before, the urge to move around had consumed him, but somehow that urge had vanished, and in its stead came a different yearning all together. A yearning for a place to call his own. A home.

Too bad you’ve blown it, Ace. He started tossing his things into his duffel bag, knowing that by tomorrow night he’d be fifteen thousand miles away from the bed Rachel had kicked him out of.

Out of her bed and out of her heart. He deserved it, he supposed, both for being who he was and for bringing her the danger in the first place. Resigned to his fate, he zipped his bag closed.

RACHEL STAYED in her robe trying to console herself with an extralarge bag of assorted baby chocolate bars. Halfway through her own private pity party, she called Melanie on her cell. “Aren’t you done shopping yet?”

“My credit card is still working. Why?”

“I’ve eaten a pound of chocolate and it’s not helping.”

“What’s the matter?”

She opened her mouth to say…Gracie. Emily. Everything. “Ben,” she said, and burst into tears.

“Oh, honey, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

YOUR FAULT, Melanie told herself as she drove around Rachel’s block searching for a parking spot. You messed with her head, and now you’re responsible for hurting the only person who ever truly cared about you.

And all this time she’d thought she hated Garrett for making her feel so rotten to the core, when it was herself