Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(64)

“Fuck,” I hear from the shadows behind me. And three . . . two . . . There’s a rustling of branches as Ben climbs over the hedge, tossing off his shirt. “Damn it, Reese. Mason was right. You are trouble.” I ignore the comment and watch in silent appreciation of his physique as his shoes and socks come off next, followed by his pants and boxers.

Okay. I’ll admit it. Ben has something to brag about. I’ll also admit that I’m probably about to do something really stupid with him. And that little switch inside that’s supposed to kick in and make me care—I think it’s called morals or a conscience, or . . . I’m not really sure—well, it hasn’t done anything but sit back and enjoy the show so far.

Ben slips into the pool on the other side much more quietly than I would expect someone of his size to sound. And when he begins wading over to me with intense purpose on his face, those dead butterfly corpses lying in my stomach—the ones Jared smashed long ago—begin fluttering like mad again.

Ben makes me feel good. He makes me feel important.

Maybe I do want this to happen.

But I’m not about to make it that easy for him. With a small, giddy giggle, I push off the side and skim across the water until I’m on the opposite end. I manage this two more times but, with Ben’s huge arm span and strength, I soon find myself in a game of cat and mouse that has me caged against a wall with my predator’s hot breath warming my cheek and his broad chest pressed against mine, holding me in place. We’re standing on the slope down to the deep end, the water leveling just above my collarbone. “I feel like a f*cking sixteen-year-old kid right now. Thanks.”

“I liked being sixteen, so you’re welcome.” I’m having a hard time steadying my voice. I’m not sure if it’s due to the thrill or nervousness.

Ben snorts, one hand sweeping my hair off my shoulders. “Why? Because you could only be tried as a minor?”

“None of those charges ever stuck.” Damn, was I ever a pain in the ass to Barry. And Jack. I should probably apologize to both for the premature graying I must have caused.

Resting an arm on the edge of the pool, Ben brushes a rivulet of water off my cheek with a fingertip. “If we get caught tonight, I’m the one who stands to lose. Do you even care?”

“Oh, relax! It’s only a second-degree misdemeanor and there are no trespassing warnings. We can plead a misunderstanding and get off completely free. Unless you have a weapon, and then it’s a third-degree felony. How do you not know this off the top of your head?”

“How do you know all of this off the top of your head?”

I let him see my exaggerated eye roll and then reveal my little secret. “The owners are at the wedding. You remember that guy that looks like an older version of The Situation?”

I watch him as he picks through his memory. He totally has no clue. “And the woman with giant duck lips and a big head of blond curls?”

One big dimple appears as Ben gives me a crooked smile. “Yeah, I saw her.”

Of course he did. “Seriously? This is their house?”

“Yeah. And the twin boys hovering over the dessert table are theirs.”

Ben pauses. “Well, what if they come home right now? And what about silent security alarms? Have you never heard of those?”

“Trust me. Between the wife and kids asking about the late-night buffet and the husband chatting up every stripper there, they won’t be home anytime soon. And . . .” I let my finger graze over the solid curve of Ben’s shoulder and slide down to his chest to toy with his nipple, “. . . I heard the wife bitching to him about staying relatively sober because the security company is coming at nine a.m. to fix the security system around the pool.” I give him a smug smile. “Because it’s not working.”

Realization sweeps over his face. “Huh . . . So there’s no real risk of getting caught for this, is that what you’re telling me?”

“Basically.”

His chest rises and falls with relief and then he presses farther into me, his nose skimming my cheek playfully. “Well, this changes things.”

“So . . . the water’s really warm, right? Better than the cold ocean?” I tease.

He chuckles, his naturally loud voice crackling with the strain of trying to keep quiet. “Yes, otherwise we’d have a real problem here.” And by the feel of Ben against my stomach, we certainly don’t now. The next thing I know, Ben’s hands are diving under the water to wrap around the backs of my thighs. Lifting me, he guides my legs around his hips and then steps in to secure our position against the pool wall. With a free hand, he reaches up to grasp the nipple piercing, sending a current of excitement through me. “Have I already told you how glad I am that you kept this in? You’re not allowed to take it out.”

“Jack doesn’t know about it, so I figured it’s okay.”

Ben’s head falls into the crook of my neck with a grunt. “Can we not talk about the guy who will fire my ass if he ever finds out about this?”

“Deal,” I agree as a hand curls behind my neck and his lips find my collarbone. I lay my head back against the edge of the pool, my breathing now coming in short, ragged drags. It’s been so long since I felt like this.

“While we’re talking about hidden piercings . . .” As if afraid to lose the opportunity again, Ben wastes no time sliding a hand down my chest, my stomach, and down farther. A tiny gasp escapes me as he begins searching me inside and out.