Frayed (Connections, #4)(59)

Then when I saw him again I wasn’t worried about Dahlia, or River, or even my mother; I was worried about myself. No matter how hard I tried to shut him out I, couldn’t. When I looked in his eyes the past became a blur; the only thing I could see were the memories of how he made me feel. So I let him in. I couldn’t help myself. More than anything I wanted to feel that way again. But this time I knew I needed to proceed with caution. And that’s what I’ve done—until now.

I sigh deeply at all the memories. The issues are still there, but this time I feel strong enough to face them, to throw caution to the wind and accept the consequences. I twist my back and stretch my neck, happy to be feeling only a fraction of the pain I felt yesterday, and a huge grin crosses my lips. It’s Saturday and I have no plans. Hopefully Ben and I can spend the day together—alone. I’m particularly thankful right now that I told Tate I couldn’t work today. I knew after Ivy’s event I’d be wiped. He was upset, but the event he had planned for today wasn’t mine; it was his. He just wanted me there.

It was time for me to start pulling back on assisting him with events so I could spend more time on my own planning. Part of me wishes I could just leave, but I’m not ready to quit, although I’m not sure how much longer I can take it. He’s becoming more and more demanding of my time, and his advances toward me since our breakup last winter aren’t letting up.

Sliding my feet to the floor, I spot Ben’s keys and wallet on my nightstand. And then I start second-guessing myself, wondering if moving forward with him right now is what I should be doing. My goal for this year was to focus on myself. Get my life on track. It didn’t include a relationship—that wasn’t in my plans. But everything about him seems so right this time. And even the repercussions don’t seem overwhelming. Sure, my family’s issues will be abundant. But Dahlia has accepted Ben in her life and I’m sure she can help me with River. Xander will be an ass, but I can handle him. The biggest issue of all will be my mother. But once I explain to her what Ben said last night, that he wanted to leave the past in the past, I know she’ll understand.

Looking down at the clover I’ve worn for the past six years, I can’t help thinking . . . why tell him? What’s done is done; there’s no undoing it.

My nose starts to twitch, tearing me from all my thoughts as I catch the faint smell of sizzling bacon in the air. I sniff again, thinking about my empty refrigerator. Ambling out of bed, I make a quick stop in the bathroom before I patter down the hall in search of him and the delicious smell. My heart leaps at the sight in the kitchen—Ben, messy blond hair, muscled, skin tanned, barefoot, standing at my stove in front of a frying pan. With a fluttering stomach, I lick my lips wanting to just taste him. He looks nothing short of edible in his white shirt and faded jeans that hug him just right. His pants are hung low, frayed at the hem just like his shirt. He is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He has always been.

I watch as he flips the slices before him and remember the last time we spent the night together—and how it ended. I blink that sad thought away. And again needing to make sure this is real—I step closer.

“S’belle, you’re awake.” He grins while dropping a piece of bacon onto a plate.

My pulse races. Those two syllables that I’ve longed to hear from his lips for so long and suddenly any doubts I had are gone—I know I’m ready to take this leap with him. I lean against the kitchen doorway and I smile. “Good morning. You went shopping?”

He laughs. “I picked a few things up while I was at the store last night. I noticed you were a little on the empty side.” He points to the fridge.

“Yeah, I haven’t gotten the living on my own thing down yet,” I respond, but really I have; I just hate it.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” I answer. My voice is low and seductive.

He turns. “Good. It’s almost done. How’s the sunburn?” he asks, sweeping the length of me with his eyes as he cracks an egg into a bowl.

I raise my arms in a catlike stretch, making sure to pull my hair up off my shoulders so it tumbles down when I let it go. Then I run my hands down my body.

His eyes flicker over me.

“It’s much, much better,” I purr.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

I nod and smile, slow and sweet.

The most devilish grin forms on his lips and he quickly tosses the eggshell into the sink. Then he turns the stove off and transfers the pan to the burner beside it.

“Come here,” he demands, then adds, “Now.”

Not only do his words and his smile send tingles to every nerve in my body, but the sound of his voice and the anticipation of what’s to come make me quiver with need. I saunter into the kitchen in my best attempt to be as seductive as he is. And it works, because in a heartbeat he grabs me and pushes me up against the counter. His hands cup the back of my neck and he pulls me to him. Heat and his hardness assault me immediately. Just the feel of his lips on mine sweeps me away—lust and need the only things I can think about, the only things left in the room. I fall into his kiss, whimpering at the way his tongue presses against mine, the way it searches my mouth, demanding all of me. The kiss is warm, deep, and desire floods me in a mad rush.

Leaving me breathless, he pulls back and studies my face. His fingers move to gently stroke my shoulders beneath the straps of my tank top. “Does this hurt?” He dips his head to kiss my shoulder.