Beautiful Beginning(22)

mine. Why was he making me wait for it?

But as he ran a big, possessive hand from my hipbone to my shoulder,

stopping at every curve along the way, I understood what he was doing.

He was giving me something other than the wedding to think about.

He was being a withholding ass so I would torment him.

He was making me torment him, and pretending to hate it.

He was ensuring that this week would feel like us, and we could be

outwardly focused on everyone else while staying focused only on each other

behind every blink, in every dark room, and in each one of our private

thoughts.

Bennett was ensuring that we would see each other at either end of the

aisle and know we made the best choice of our lives.

“You’re pretty brilliant, do you know that?” I asked, curling into him

and running a hand up over his shoulder and into his hair.

He pressed his lips to my neck and sucked. “You can thank me later,

Einstein.”

He turned his head to kiss me and I groaned into his touch. His lips were

so firm, so commanding and I gave in to him as he parted them and pressed

his tongue inside, sweeping, searching.

I shook when his hands returned to my skin, warm and rough, feeling every

curve and dip, every small hollow. I felt the hard press of his cock

against my stomach and tried to roll him on top of me.

“I want you inside,” I said. I heard my own voice and it was hoarse and

needy. I ran my hands up his neck, cupping his face and trying to pull him

closer.

But he inhaled, turned and pulled my fingers into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned, taking each of them between his lips and rolling them

over his tongue, tasting my sex. He pushed my hand away, sweeping a

frustrated palm over his face and rasping, “Goddamnit.”

“Ben—”

Before I could hold on and keep him there, he’d rolled out of bed and

walked back to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.





Chapter Four




I could barely open my eyes the next morning.

Bright yellow sun filtered through the open balcony door, warming my skin

where it cut across the bed. I could taste the salt in the air; hear the

sound of the tide as it washed along the beach. I could feel the heat of

Chloe’s body where it pressed against my side. Naked.

She mumbled something in her sleep, slipped a smooth leg up and over mine,

and shifted closer. The sheets smelled faintly of her perfume and even more

of her.

With a groan, I extricated myself from her grip and very carefully rolled

her to her side. Swinging my feet to the floor, I stood, looking down at my

very hard, very selfish dick. Really? I thought. Again? I’d gone to the

bathroom on two separate occasions last night—both before and after Chloe

’s little one-woman show—and still. Always the traitor.

Chloe thought I was brilliant for having us wait until Saturday, when in

reality it was starting to feel like the worst idea I’d ever had. I felt

anxious and on edge—aware of a persistent hum beneath my skin and a need

for exertion—to f*ck until I was too tired to stand or sit, too exhausted

to do anything but fall into bed and pass out.

Under normal circumstances I’d have cut off my right hand before

considering leaving a warm bed and naked Chloe. But these weren’t normal

circumstances, and frankly, my right hand had proven invaluable the last

few days.

I’d almost caved last night, and at this point, it would

be like surrendering to the enemy. I needed to get out of here.

I found my phone in the living room and typed a message to Max. I need to

run. You in?

His response came less than a minute later. Definitely. I’ll grab Will and

meet you at the main

pool in 10?

See you then I typed back, and tossed my phone to the couch.

I’d have time to jerk off, clean up, and escape the room before Chloe was

even awake.



Max had most definitely gotten laid. I watched him as he neared the pool,

hair a mess and limbs loose and relaxed. It would be easy to hate this guy

if I wasn’t so damn happy for him.

Okay, no. I still hate him a little.

“You look disgustingly pleased with yourself,” I said, dropping into a

deck chair beneath a bright blue umbrella.

“And sadly, you don’t,” he said back with a smirk. “Your virginity

giving you trouble?”

I sighed, rolled my neck, and felt the tension that seemed present in every

single muscle. “Is it tomorrow yet?”

Max shook his head, laughing. “Almost.”

“Where’s Will?”

“With Hanna still, I think. He said to wait, that he’d be down in a few.

” Max took a seat across from me, bent down to tighten the laces of his

running shoes.

“This is good. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

He squinted up at me. “What’s up?”