Frayed (Connections, #4)(16)

“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 nipples tighten beneath the lace of my bra as his mouth skates over my breasts 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 cock presses against me in the very next moment, but then he scans the area and hesitates.

I don’t give him time to second-guess things. This is what I want. I wrap my arms around his neck and arch my hips into his. By now our breathing is out of control.

“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 * 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.”

“Tate’s cool with that?” I have to say I’m surprised. From what I saw of him over the summer, he seemed like a complete dick-wad.

“His only stipulation was that I not include weddings as one of my offerings, so I’ve been concentrating mainly on business events. I usually have everything delivered, but the peppered beef skewers from Pebbles are my favorite and they don’t deliver.”

“Ah . . . I definitely ate my fair share of those.”

“Right! They are so good you can’t have just one.”

I laugh.

She smiles.

The sight triggers something odd inside me, something that I haven’t felt in a very long time. Maybe it’s just that I don’t want to say good-bye to her. I’m not ready for the night to end and I don’t think she is either. I consider my options as they run through my mind. But in the end I decide to do the gentlemanly thing rather than what I really want to do—again. I have this strange feeling that she’s struggling with her emotions and I know what that’s like, as I seem to be doing the same.

“What do you say to a cup of coffee?”

She scans the parking lot. “How did you get here?”

“My bike. Why?”

“I’ll agree to go for coffee, but only if you let me drive.”

“Are you scared?”

“No!”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t want to get pulled over for not wearing a helmet.”

“That didn’t bother you the time I drove you home when you’d locked your keys in your car.”

“I was in a hurry then. It was different.”

I refrain from scoffing under my breath. “Different how?”

“I don’t know. If I had to explain to a policeman I’m sure I could think of something.”