Frayed (Connections #4)
Page 7I had my heels on and ran the toe of my shoe up his thigh.
“Take those off,” he told me, his voice sounding raspy.
I quickly kicked them to the floor and this time ran my bare foot back up the same path, curling my toes around his hard cock. He groaned and I wanted to hear that sound again. My hands flew to where my foot had just been and I traced his erection with my fingernails, eliciting another groan from him.
Then he stood back and toed his sneakers off. He stripped out of the rest of his clothing before his eyes cut to mine. His lids were partially hooded, but I could still see the deep blue. God, his eyes were gorgeous. God, was he gorgeous!
He lowered his head. “You sure you want to do this?” This time his tone was soft, sweet, unlike the way it had been up until now.
There was no doubt I wanted this. I nodded and reached my hand back down to stroke his throbbing cock.
“Say it,” he said with the force back in his voice.
I bit my lip. “I want you.”
“You want me what?”
“I want you to f**k me,” I breathed.
When the words left my mouth, there was no question who I was. I wasn’t the dream girl I had been told to be—no, I was the real me and I wanted him, all of him. Everything he had to give I wanted to take. The hunger inside me was nearly unbearable. Thank God it didn’t take long before he was inside me. He made love to me as no one ever had. I became his dream girl at some point during the night because I wanted to give him everything he didn’t even know he wanted. I wanted to do things to him I had only heard about.
The things we did would become a memory that stayed with me for a very long time. When he took me it wasn’t with an urgency to just fulfill his own need. It wasn’t fast and quick like with other guys I had been with. Rather, it was a night filled with passion, lust, with our deepest, darkest desires being met. It was a dream, a fantasy—one I wanted to live out over and over for a very long time. He must have fallen asleep around five a.m., but I didn’t want to close my eyes. I watched him, thinking how perfect he seemed. He was a mix of good and bad, salty and sweet, all of which left me wanting more. I wanted to be his dream girl—always.
But he belonged to someone else and who was I to take him from her? The sudden realization shattered me. I knew I should leave before morning came, to make this easier for both of us. So while he slept, I gathered my things. Before leaving, I picked up his shirt and breathed in the scent and stared at Ben for the longest time. I’d remember him like that forever—all long and lean, suntanned skin, mess of blond hair covering those eyes that were bluer than any ocean. I covered him with his shirt, the one with the frayed edges. When I looked down at him one last time, I couldn’t help thinking it looked the way I felt.
Walking backward toward the door, I stumbled over his sweatshirt on the floor. I couldn’t resist it. I wanted to keep a small piece of him, so I slipped it on. He stirred, mumbling, “S’belle” as he slept, but he never woke. I crept out of the room, thinking to myself my name was Bell, not S’belle. My Paris high was still strong and even though I had told a few people my name was S’belle because I thought it sounded sexier, I knew he would be the last. I wanted him to own it.
• • •
“Red? Did you hear me?” he asks, pulling me back to the here and now.
He calls me Red because I flat-out told him when I saw him this past summer to never call me S’belle again. That’s not what I wanted at all, but it was for the best. I draw in a shaky breath before I can find my voice. “I know the way back. Follow me.”
“You know this hotel is not only rumored to be haunted but has a monumental place in movie history,” he says so matter-of-factly that I’m wondering if maybe the attraction I thought was mutual isn’t.
“No, I didn’t know that. What do you mean?” I try to mask my anxious breathing the farther into the darkness we step.
“The hotel was used to film the prom scene in Pretty in Pink. A boxing ring was set up in one of the ballrooms for Rocky III. The Ghostbusters movie used the Music Room to catch Slimer. Eddie Murphy—”
I interrupt his list of credits, thinking maybe he might be a little nervous after all. “Oh, my brother Xander loved Ghostbusters. I used to watch it with him and his girlfriend all the time when we were younger.”
We enter into the stainless steel food prep area, where I had seen him earlier tonight. Suddenly a noise, sounding like a loud whisper, echoes through the room and I jump at the same time a scream escapes me. “Oh my God, this place really is haunted.” My heart thumps at the thought.
It’s kind of hard to make out in the dim lighting, but I know I catch sight of a smirk on Ben’s face.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s not ghosts, I promise. It’s probably just the mice.”
I shriek this time. “Where are they? I hate rodents.”
He presses me against the cool stainless steel wall before murmuring in my ear, “They live in the walls. They can’t hurt you. And even if they could, I’m here.”
I’m not sure if he means the ghosts or the mice, but honestly, I don’t care about either with the warmth of his body pressed so close to mine. Even in my heels I have to tilt my head to see his face. “I’m not a damsel in distress, you know.”
He slides his tongue along his lip before answering me. “Maybe you could be,” he whispers.
Lust, want, and need for this man purge themselves from every single one of my pores. I swallow hard, then lean in and breathe him in. It’s the same scent I remember from so long ago—nothing more, just soap. Fresh and clean.
“Did you just smell me?” he asks.
“I did,” I purr.
“Fuck.”
And with his curse his lips crash to mine. His mouth is soft and warm; his tongue is slick and wet. It’s a heady combination, but this kiss is anything but sweet. It’s frantic, dark, deliriously delicious. Sweet—definitely not. Ben draws me closer and I can feel his hardness against my belly. The thought that I can do this to him so quickly enables me to be bolder. My fingers move to his shirt and I pull it out of his pants. “I thought you were here to save me,” I manage between frantic kisses after deciding to be that damsel in distress after all.
He breaks our kiss and leans back, not letting go of my hands. He hisses in a breath through his teeth in a way that tells me he likes what he sees. I take a second to look around at our surroundings.
“What if someone walks through here?” I’m standing in my black strapless bra and hose before him.
“No one is around this late at night. And besides, remember, I’m here to protect you?” His voice is more of a rasp. “God, you’re so f**king sexy.”
I look at him. Lips parted. Eyes hooded. And a grin that pierces every nerve in my body. “Take your shirt off,” I tell him.
His grin grows wicked. But he doesn’t do as I instructed. Instead he glides a hand down the side of my body. His touch leaves an ever-burning flame in its wake. His mouth finds my neck to sprinkle hot, wet kisses up to my ear. “I’ll take my shirt off but because I want it off,” he growls.
He lets go of my wrists and they fall to my side. I can feel my body tremble as I watch him slowly unbutton his shirt. I can’t help remembering the bad boy that rocked my world that one night. My heart pounds louder and faster with every passing second. As the consequences of our night together fade from my mind, I let the joy of this moment consume me. Why? Because in all the years since him, in all the boyfriends I’ve had, no one has ever made my body tingle with anticipation like him. No one has ever made me feel the way he did.
“Do you feel safer now?” He’s got a cocky grin as his shirt falls to the floor and he unbuckles his belt but doesn’t undo his pants.
I’m completely absorbed in following the lines of his body. From his biceps, where his muscles flex every time his arms move, to his perfectly defined smooth chest. A six-pack worthy of tracing, with my tongue or my finger. His pants hang low and I can’t help staring at the muscles that connect his hipbones or at the thin line of fine hair that trails down and disappears into the waistband of his pants.
“See something you like?” he asks.
His devilishly handsome features have already shifted into a knowing grin when I raise my eyes to him. I swallow, suddenly feeling shy.
His fingers caress my face. “You sure about this?”
I bite my lower lip and nod, once again unable to speak.
His expression grows dark and within seconds I lose sight of those blue eyes that I could look into for hours. He bends to kiss the exposed skin of my chest while his hands go to my thighs. My ni**les tighten beneath the lace of my bra as his mouth skates over my br**sts and my core aches when his fingers dance in between my thighs.
I mirror the position of his fingers and slowly pull his zipper down. As soon as I do his dress trousers slide even farther down his hips. His hands quickly slide up the silk of my hose, and his palms come to rest between my legs. “Fuck, you’re drenched,” he pants.
I throw my head back and find my courage to talk dirty. I can do it. “I’m not wearing underwear and I started dripping the moment I saw you.”
His guttural groan echoes through the room and in a flash he rips the crotch of my stockings and tugs down his boxers. He pulls his wallet out and once the condom is in place his eyes darken. The tip of his c**k presses against me in the very next moment, but then he scans the area and hesitates.
“Take me,” I moan.
And that’s just what he does.
CHAPTER 5
Show Me What I’m Looking For
Ben
We make our way back through the dark corridors and a little thing called guilt settles in my mind. This girl does crazy things to me and I want her. I’ve always wanted her. Every time I see her I think about what it felt like to be buried deep inside her.
I lean down and whisper in her ear, “That was unexpected.”
She lowers her gaze, allowing her hair to shield her face. “Was it?”
Heat rises in my body as I consider her response. Suddenly a sound of pipes clattering above us has her raising her hands over her head. I pull her close. “Hey, the plumbing here is old. It’s nothing to be scared of.”
I walk faster and with her hand clutching mine, I open the door and we step outside. This time I not only notice the stars but see the moon is full, bright. The air also seems cooler. Good. I glance around the now-vacant parking lot, then down at her. “Where’s the Tate catering truck? Why were you squeezing pans into your car anyway?”
Her lipstick is a little smeared and her hair disheveled, but she’s still a knockout. “Tonight’s event was all me,” she says, beaming.
“All you? You don’t work for that ass**le anymore?”
She giggles. “I do, but since Tate only does weddings now, he’s fine with me venturing out on my own. I just recently started my own event-planning company.”