Blurred Lines (Love Unexpectedly #1)(35)

Lance is twenty-four, too, but he was more of a one-time-then-nap sort of lover. Or, toward the end, a one-time-then-back-to-the-books lover. But even after two rounds of very enthusiastic sex, there’s no questioning that Ben’s lower anatomy is ready for round three.

And, to my surprise, I’m ready, too. Two minutes ago, I was pretty damn sure all I wanted was a long, hot shower and maybe the proverbial cigarette to celebrate the end of my celibacy, but with his mouth doing that thing under my ear…

My hands roam over his rather perfect upper body, my fingertips taking particular interest in the lines of his abs. Then I remember my vision from earlier. The one where I lick every inch of his delicious stomach.

I push at Ben’s shoulders and he pulls back. I’m oddly gratified to see that his eyes are hazy with desire just from kissing my neck. Wonder what he’ll do if I do this…

I lean forward, pressing my lips softly to his shoulder, then taking a not-so-soft bite out of the hard flesh.

He hisses, and I smile as my lips travel downward until I get to that glorious six-pack. Or is it an eight-pack?

I let my lips and tongue find out as I trace the firm plains of his muscled abs. His fingers tangle roughly in my wet hair, and the still-hot water pounds against my back as I explore.

My lips drift ever lower, and I hear his breathing grow more ragged.

Wicked, dirty thoughts enter my mind as I grin against his stomach and lower to my knees.

I glance up and lick my lips and Ben groans.

I set my mouth against his cock and he swears. I smile in victory. I’ve never been quite this brazen, but somehow with Ben, I don’t feel embarrassed or tentative. I feel bold and exploratory, and a little bit dirty.

And then I get a lot dirty.

Five minutes later a gasping Ben pulls me to my feet and I smile smugly.

His eyes narrow. “Feeling proud of ourself, are we?”

“I’m just sayin’, I’ve never heard you say my name quite like that before. Also, the water’s turning cold—”

He spins me around, reversing our positions. “You’re going to forget all about the temperature of the water in a minute.”

“No, I really won’t—”

But then he drops to his knees, and it’s his turn to look up at me wickedly. “Ben—”

He leans forward, his tongue finding me, and damn it, he’s right. I forget all about the cold water.

Several minutes later, he stands, and once I stop gasping I hit his shoulder. “Now who’s looking smug?”

We hurriedly soap up and rinse in the now-freezing water before fighting over, you guessed it, the towel.

“It’s my towel, Ben. This is why we have different colors.”

“Yeah, but that’s the one I used this morning,” he says, pointing at it.

“I knew it! I knew you were lying.”

He takes advantage of my outrage to grab it from me. “Don’t think just because we’re f*ck buddies means I’m going to start acting differently.”

“What, you mean like human?” I mutter as I reach under the sink to where I keep a spare towel.

He pauses in the process of drying himself. “How did I not know there were clean towels under there?”

“Simple,” I say. “I keep the cleaning supplies under here as well, which means this particular cupboard physically repels you.”

“Huh.” He nudges me aside, opening up the medicine cabinet to get at his deodorant.

I do the same, and it hits me then how truly good our situation is. There’s no embarrassed aftermath, no awkward sneaking out of bed, no regrets.

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asks, tying the towel in a knot at his waist and opening the bathroom door.

“Sure. I get to pick.”

“Nope. Your taste in movies sucks.”

My hand snakes out and undoes the knot he’s just tied so that the towel falls to his feet just as he starts to walk, causing him to stumble a little.

“Oops,” I say sweetly, scooting past him toward my bedroom.

“Just because we’re hooking up doesn’t mean you can demand nonstop naked time—”

I let my own towel drop, giving him an unobstructed view of my butt as I walk away.

“Okay, maybe nonstop naked time is fine!” he calls after me as I shut the door to my bedroom.

I’m still smiling as I put on my PJs, wind my wet hair into a bun, and then head downstairs to where Ben’s already on the couch, remote in hand.

I glance at the open DVD box on the coffee table. “The Proposal?” I ask excitedly. “Really?”

He gives a weary sigh. “Call it gratitude for the blow job.”

I grin as I plop down beside him, feeling ridiculously content. No, more than content. Happy.

We definitely should have started doing this a long time ago.





Chapter 14


Ben


Parker’s right on karaoke schedule. Two glasses of sparkling wine, and bam. She’s up onstage.

It’s not even her turn, but I guess that’s one of the benefits of being a hot girl with a hot friend. It took Lori and Parker all of eight seconds and two pretty smiles (with the help of Lori’s low-cut shirt, I’d guess) to convince the group of guys who were next in the queue to let them cut in line.