Working It

I stepped toward her, closing the distance she’d purposefully left between us. “Do you trust me?” I could still remember her smell, her taste, the little whimpering sounds she made last night. She was fucking delicious and I wanted more.

She swallowed, visibly shaken, but gave a tiny nod. It was enough. I took her hand and pulled her behind the partition that separated off a small area for changing. There was a dude behind there buttoning up a shirt. I tossed him a look that he accurately read as Get the fuck out. He made a hasty retreat. Smart guy. Because I was three seconds away from having Emmy’s panties around her ankles, and no one was going to see her bare little pussy but me. I wanted to smell her, taste her, devour her. Never had a girl gotten under my skin so completely. I had to have her.

The expression on her face was a mix of panic and curiosity. She bit down, burying her teeth in her bottom lip, and met my eyes. She did trust me. I saw that. And she was worried how far I’d push her.

Fuck.

I wouldn’t betray her trust by doing something she wasn’t sure about. She took her job seriously, and now I’d lured her back here for sex. Shit. My hard-on would have to wait. Sorry, buddy.

“Later, okay? You’re mine.”

She looked up into my eyes, her face awash with relief. “Yes,” she confirmed. “Later.”

The promise of later would have to be enough to get me through the next few hours.

13

Emmy

It was eight o’clock when I made it back to the hotel, and I was exhausted. My body was fighting this European schedule, and Fiona’s ridiculous demands kept me running. But Ben’s text said to come straight to his room and to come hungry.

When I arrived at his door, he planted a tender kiss on my lips and pulled me inside.

“I listened to the CD you made me.”

“And?”

“I loved it. Thank you.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his expression truly grateful.

I sensed this was a new side of him, a softer, sweeter Ben, and I liked it. I didn’t know what had changed between us but he was clearly letting me into his world.

I noticed a room service cart with various platters covered with silver domes. “Breakfast in bed okay?” he asked.

“Breakfast? For dinner?” I loved the idea, but it was a little unusual.

“Since I didn’t get to take you out to breakfast like you wanted this morning.”

I didn’t realize it before, but now that I could smell the food, I was ravenous. Ben lifted the domes from the plates, and my mouth began to water. Golden waffles dusted with powdered sugar and topped with a with mixed-berry compote, fluffy omelets with goat cheese and mushrooms drizzled with truffle oil, thick cuts of ham and a green salad on the side. It was anything but a country breakfast, almost too pretty and elegant to eat, but it was perfect.

“This is lovely, thank you.”

“Dig in.”

“You didn’t have to do all this. . . .” I wanted to remind him he’d said this was just sex between us, but I didn’t. Couldn’t.

“I need you fueled up for what I want to do to you tonight.” His eyes lingered on mine.

Oh. So it wasn’t some romantic gesture. It was about sex. I helped myself to the food. I might as well enjoy the meal.

We made our plates, taking a little of everything, and then settled on the bed. Ben flipped on the TV to some French news program for background noise while we ate. It was relaxing and so ordinary. And perfect.

We chatted casually throughout the meal, and Ben asked me questions about college. He seemed genuinely interested and admitted he’d always wanted to go to college, but Fiona thought it would slow down his career. Money and exposure now, college later. Even if I could see her reasoning, it made me sad for him.

The conversation I really wanted to have—about his prescriptions—remained just out of reach. I’d already asked about them once; I didn’t want to push him. He’d tell me when he was ready. I had to believe that.

Ben cleared away the dishes then stretched out on the bed next to me. I was comfortable and full and relaxed into the fluffy white bedding. Ben lifted my bare feet into his lap and began lazily rubbing them. It felt amazing. I let my eyes slip closed, allowing the food coma to set in.

“Thank you for breakfast. It wasn’t anything like the home cooking where I’m from, but . . .” I smiled. “It was delicious. Maybe you’ll have to come to Tennessee with me sometime.”

His brow crinkled.

Ben

“I want to be upfront with you.”

Her eyes lifted to mine. God, she was so sweet, it almost made me feel bad. Almost. But I knew what I wanted and the pleasures I could show her. I wouldn’t let anything complicate that. If she was talking about taking me home to Tennessee, clearly we weren’t on the same page about what this was.

“Emmy, I’m not looking for a relationship. I’ve been on my own too long; I’ve gotten too good at it.”

“That doesn’t mean that’s how it has to be.” Her voice was small and she looked down. She wanted to challenge me on this, but seemed reluctant to push me. She wanted it to be my choice. But I knew what I wanted.

Using two fingers, I lifted her chin, forcing her eyes up to mine. “I know. But it’s how I like it. Having to only worry about myself.”

Emmy waited, her eyes on mine, waiting to see what else I’d say.

If I was smart, I’d push her away right now. I’d spill my history, my twisted past, all the many ways I’d fucked up. That would send her running. But something in me wouldn’t do that. Refused. I wanted her too badly. This sweet, soft-spoken girl who was far too normal and nice for me. I wanted her. And it wasn’t just about sex, either. I couldn’t lie, being buried balls deep in her sweet body sounded fucking amazing, though that wasn’t all I wanted if I was being honest. But, unwilling to let myself fuck with both her body and her mind, I needed to remind her this was only about sex.

I pushed on, needing to kill her hope for more. “Is what we have right now so bad?” I asked, one side of my mouth lifting in a playful grin.

She merely blinked up at me, like she wanted to disagree, to tell me I was wrong, that this could work if I would only try. But she deserved better—a proper boyfriend who’d cherish her, not hide her from the world in a hotel room.

“Ben . . .” she started.

My finger over her lips silenced her. “I’m just not capable of giving you everything you need.”

She took my hand and squeezed it in hers, as if saying, “You’re wrong.”

My chest throbbed. She looked at me like I was good and whole and someone she wanted to take care of. I wouldn’t push her away, as long as she knew what she was getting and not getting. “I don’t know where I’ll be living a few months from now. There’s constant temptation in this business. Don’t complicate this, Emmy. It’s two and a half months. Let me have you.”

She hesitated.

“Baby, you’re on my mind constantly. There’s no one else. Come on . . . let me have you how I want you. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Emmy

Let me have you. Ben’s words rang in my head while his soulful eyes remained locked on mine. Could I do that? Could I hand him the keys to my body and not my heart? I realized with shocking