Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(44)

“Once, for two weeks, in high school.”

No, probably not. “So you’ve really made an effort,” I tease.

“Commitment just isn’t for me.” He says it so simply. Like, “Broccoli isn’t for me.”

“That’s too bad, Ben. I think some foolish woman out there could maybe make you a blissful idiot one day.”

He opens one eye to look down on me for a long moment, pondering something. “Yeah, but what if she’s evil, like you? I wouldn’t want to risk pissing her off and getting shot in the ass.” He pinches my side as he says that, as if letting me know that he’s only teasing.

“Funny.” I know today’s paintball incident isn’t going to die quietly with Ben but right now, I don’t want to be reminded about the few seconds before I opened fire, when I could hear them together, when I knew that Jared was inside her.

The dull ache in my chest is coming back. I need an effective diversion. “Speaking of evil . . .” I pull the key that I swiped from the dune buggy out of my pocket and wave it above his face. “It’s going to be a long walk back for you when I leave you stranded out here.”

“Are you f*cking kidding me . . .” Laughing as he tries to grab it from me, I quickly shove it back into my pocket. “Really? Have you not figured me out yet?” As if to prove a point, Ben has me on my back in the truck bed, both of my arms easily pinned above my head by one of his in seconds. “Oh, wait. Just in case . . .” He shifts his body, forcing my thighs around his hips. “Wouldn’t want you injuring the goods for a second time today. Not before you get full use of them.”

“I would never stoop to that level,” I exclaim with mock insult.

“Really?” His blond brow arches severely.

I offer a sweet smile. Truthfully, I was just getting my knee ready.

Feeling confident—I know because he’s staring down at me with a grin that could charm the pants off half the women in the office, married or not—he reaches down with his free hand. I feel a tug as his fingers dig into my pocket and begin rooting around. I could try to buck him off me but, well, given my position, I honestly think he’s hoping for that. And so I remain still as he takes his time, until he’s got the old silver thing dangling off one finger in front of me.

“You can get off of me any time now, you know,” I remind him.

With a sigh, he shifts his weight slightly as his free arm comes up to slide beneath my head, providing a cushion against the hard metal. “I could,” he agrees, those brilliant blue eyes searching my eyes, my nose, my mouth, as if evaluating me.

And then he leans down and kisses me. No hesitation at all, as if there’s no way I couldn’t possibly want Ben Morris’s tongue in my mouth, sliding its way around mine in a smooth, practiced dance. The problem is that in this moment, out here in the middle of nowhere, with reality so far away and the tranquility of the grove, I do want it. Now I can see why Ben was so eager to give me a “tour” rather than head back to work.

He pulls away to peer down at me with a knowing smile.

“You do realize that normal friends and work colleagues don’t do this sort of thing, right?”

“I like to bend the rules.” He releases my wrists, freeing his to snake up the front of my shirt, lifting the material as he goes. The guy clearly has a goal in mind because his fingers have unfastened my bra without any stalling and pushed it away within seconds. “Oh, thank God,” he says through a groan, his head dipping down to grasp onto the ring with his mouth.

As I reach up under that soft T-shirt of his to feel the tightness in his back, as I feel Ben’s tongue coil around the ring and tickle me, I echo his words in my head. Yes, thank God.

He lifts his body ever so slightly, his hand reaching down to undo the top button and zipper of my jeans with a casual flick. “I never did take full inventory of your piercings.”

When I make no indications of an answer, that wide grin takes over his face and I know what he’s planning even before I feel the first tug on my jeans. They’re too tight for him to squeeze a hand in. He wastes no time sliding off the tailgate to stand in front of me with intent written all over his face. Reaching down, he gets a good hold of my jeans and begins shimmying them down.

And that’s when the sudden rumble of an engine and the squeak of brakes sounds.

“Who is it?” I ask as Ben’s attention whips to his left. I can’t ignore the disappointment flooding me, a dull ache in my lower belly forming.

His head tips back as he looks up to the sky. “Who do you think?” With a deep groan, his eyes rake over my exposed chest. He bends down for one last chaste kiss on my lips and then steps away, leaving me to button my pants and affix my bra and shirt just as a red pickup truck with a thick white stripe around the center pulls up.

Wilma hops out of the high cab quite easily for someone her age. “Benjamin James Morris, did you bring this young lady out here in the hot sun without anything to drink?”

Scratching the back of his head lazily, he mutters, “I guess I did. Sorry.”

I purse my lips tightly. Considering what Ben brought me out here in the hot sun to do, I think a cold drink was definitely not on his mind.

“It’s like I didn’t raise you at all, sometimes.” Coming around the other side, she opens the passenger door and pulls a cooler off the bench. Ben’s at her side in seconds, relieving her of the weight. “Mama, you know you shouldn’t be lifting heavy things.”