Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(63)

I can tell by the sad puppy-dog eyes Ben’s settling on me.

“Let’s go back to the reception,” I grumble, stepping around him. He’s having none of that, though. Roping his arms around my waist, he drops down to press his forehead against mine in a very friendly yet intimate way. In a way I didn’t think Ben capable of acting. The proximity to him is both comforting and heady.

“She’s the only one here that I’ve been with. Well,” he cringes slightly, “Hannah, too, but just the one night and for like a minute. She was more into Mercy that night.” Oh my God! “And I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that when I asked you to do this.”

Digesting that rather graphic detail that I didn’t need for a long moment, I finally heave a sigh. “I guess my pride is just having a hard time getting over that mess.”

With a devilish gleam in Ben’s eyes, he dives down—yet again—for another kiss. Only this time he doesn’t pull away quickly, instead coaxing my mouth open. In no time, my head is cradled in his hand, his tongue is tangled with mine, and I’m not refusing him. He really is good at this.

And this is so easy. And straightforward and painless, because we both know it’s completely physical and neither of us is looking for more. And, oddly enough, I feel like we’re friends. Ben’s kind of like a kid I used to play in the sandbox with who’s seen me through my embarrassing gangly years and makes me laugh.

Who is now making his intentions known by pressing them up against my thigh.

He suddenly pulls away. “Are you actually jealous of Mercy?” There’s a pause, and then his eyes are twinkling as he lets go of me and starts unfastening his shirt buttons, the beginning of that solid upper body revealing itself. I’m not quite sure what he’s doing until the shirt hangs open and his hands reach for his belt, the dimples on his cheeks set deeply. “Because there’s no need. I’m more than willing to—”

“No!”

His hands pause, a knowing smirk stretching his lips. “You sure?”

“No?”

Ben’s head cocks to the side in surprise that matches mine. We’re left standing there, staring at each other as the water laps up on the shore, me wondering what that hesitation was. I’m sure he is too. Then I see his eyes start taking on that heated look, like he just realized that he’s about to get laid.

So I turn and bolt.

“Where are you going?” he hollers.

The lights from his friends’ wedding shine bright up ahead. With a glance over my shoulder, I see him jogging toward me, seemingly unperturbed. He’s definitely not trying too hard. I’m not that fast a runner, though, so he’ll probably catch me before I reach the house.

Fuck. And then what?

Vagina exorcism attempt number two, right here? Contrary to what people say, rolling around naked in gritty sand is neither romantic nor comfortable.

Houses line my left—all expansive buildings with big, beautiful windows and landscaped backyards lit up. All except the one . . . two . . . I visually count . . . the fifth one down from Storm and Dan’s. A few property lights on the side and front of this house are on, but the back lights are off and inside, it’s completely dark.

And it hits me. An idea out of nowhere, of the mischievous variety that I seem to find impossible to ignore. Especially when I’ve been drinking.

Running up to the property line, I hop over the low hedge, my bare feet silent against the soft grass beneath.

“Reese?” Ben’s sharp whisper cuts through the quiet night.

“Yeah?”

A moment later, a bit closer, “Jesus. Please tell me you’re not about to rob someone.”

I turn around to see him standing just outside the property, a rare look of panic marring his carefree mask. “I’m not a criminal!”

“What are you doing, then?”

Reaching back, I unfasten my zipper and let my dress hit the pavement, revealing the secret I had hidden beneath the thick white material.

A “Jesus” escapes Ben’s lips in a hiss as his eyes graze over the matching red underwear set. I actually used to love the color, and this particular set was one of Jared’s favorites. I remember staring at it in my trash can for two hours before pulling it back out, way back when I first moved to Miami. The bra really does do wonders for me. “You know, there’s an ocean out there that no one owns.”

“It’s too cold.” I fight a sudden rash of nerves as I unfasten my bra next. “Have you never snuck into a person’s pool before?”

Covering his mouth with his hand as his eyes remain glued on my now bare chest, he mutters, “Not at a random multimillion-dollar Miami home.”

“A random multimillion-dollar Miami home with no security and no signs strictly forbidding it. In my opinion, they’re asking for it.” Taking a deep, calming breath, I shimmy out of my panties, Ben’s eyes unpeeling themselves from my chest to shoot downward. “I knew you were a wuss.” The glass surface of the pool barely ripples as I slide soundlessly into the water.

He purses his lips for a moment as if deciding his next move. “I’m not a wuss. I just don’t feel like getting arrested tonight.”

“Wow. This feels so good against my skin,” I taunt in an intentionally seductive tone, trying to keep my splashes to a minimum as I sail across the span of the deep end.