Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths #4)(95)
Maybe into someone else’s bed.
Shit. Am I developing real feelings for Ben Morris?
“I forgot something in the car.” It’s comes out sounding stilted and obviously untrue. I glance at Jack as I pass by. He’s just staring at me. I try not to rush out the door, but I’m pretty sure I’ve failed at hiding my hurry.
Ben’s tall frame is just about to fold into his driver’s side as the front door clicks behind me. He stops and watches as I take tentative, stiff-bodied steps toward him, my stomach a mix of butterflies and dread, not sure what’s going on in his head. This “thing” between us was easier when I didn’t care. Now . . . I’m pretty sure that I do. God, I don’t want to be another Mercy, another “friend” that he’ll need to gently turn down.
“I just . . .” My voice drifts off as I reach him. What the hell do I say now that I’m here? “I’m really sorry about your dad. About all of it. Not just today.”
His head cocks to the side as he regards me. “Reese, are you falling in love with me?”
“No!” I yell with a touch too much vigor. I feel my face burst into flames as he starts chuckling. “Shut up, you ass**le.”
“Dude! My dad just killed himself today and you’re calling me names?” His terrible attempt at humor makes me cringe. “All right already, come here.” An arm hooks around my back and he pulls me into a tight hug, my face pressing up against the softness of his T-shirt. All of his shirts are soft and comfortable and worthy of melting into. I inhale deeply, catching that soapy clean smell that I’ve already missed.
“Are you going to survive a week without me or do you need to keep one of my shirts to tide you over?” he murmurs, his mouth pressed up again my hair. I hear the smile in his voice.
I turn my face away as another burst of heat touches my cheeks. “Maybe just one.”
He groans, his arms tightening around me. “So you can use it for some weird exorcism-voodoo shit when I piss you off? Hell no! I’ll end up with a nasty rash, won’t I? Oh, wait. You called me a rash, didn’t you?”
I find myself giggling against him as movement in the blinds at the front window catches my eye. Great. Jack. I’ll have that to deal with when I go inside.
Ben must have seen it too. “What’re you going to tell Jack?”
“I don’t know.” I pull away and tilt my head back to meet Ben’s eyes. “What should I tell him?”
His chest presses against mine with his deep breath. With another quick glance back at the window, he leads me ahead of his car and into the cover of the garage doors, set far enough out that no window has a view. He looks down at me, roaming my features and settling on my mouth. “That we’re good friends.” And then, so contrary to his words, and in a manner so different from the Ben that has kissed me in the past, he dips down and settles a soft, lingering kiss on my mouth, his thumbs rubbing against my cheeks. “I’ve gotta head out now. It’s a long drive back and I’m beat,” he murmurs against my mouth, his voice crackling with its low cadence. I feel his lips curve against mine. “I didn’t sleep well with all that babbling you were doing last night.”
“What?” I feel my brow furrow. “I don’t talk in my sleep.”
There’s just enough light from the corner of the house that I see his dimples. “You do. I just didn’t have a chance to make fun of you for it earlier.”
Curiosity overcomes my embarrassment. “What did I say?”
He pauses, as if deciding whether to tell me. And then he shrugs. “Hard to tell, with that ass of yours going all night, too. What did you eat, because . . . Jeez!”
“What!” I shriek, pulling away from him to smack his broad chest hard as he bursts out in laughter. “I do not fart in my sleep!” I hiss. This may be worse than the puke and the crawling.
“I was the one pressed right up against you all night. I think I’d know.”
“Oh my God.” I close my eyes as I wince. Of all the guys to do that in front of—if it’s even true; Jared never said anything—it had to be a guy like Ben? Who will torment me! Does this kind of stuff happen to other women, too? Or is it just me? I shift away from him and start moving backward. “Well, you’d better get going. It’s a long drive.”
Two strong hands shoot out to grab onto me and pull me back until my back is pressing against the garage door. “Don’t worry. I still think you’re hot.” With an infuriating smile, he dips down and levels me with one of his overpowering kisses, this one much more familiar and “Ben,” buckling my knees as he crushes his body against mine. My eyes finally open to deep dimples as he lifts a hand and kisses my knuckles. “Okay, seriously, I need to go or I’m liable to take you on the hood of Jack’s truck.” Slipping a hand on the small of my back, he leads me toward the walkway as he heads back to his car. “Do you think you can stay out of trouble this week?”
“Depends. What kind of trouble?”
He rests an arm on his open door as he smirks at me, explaining in a wry tone, “The kind that involves douchebag ex-husbands.”
I open my mouth to speak but I stall on the words as I process this. Is he referring to catfights with Caroline and violent outbursts? Or was that his way of saying he doesn’t want me messing around with anyone? I settle on, “Depends. Do you think you can stay away from Twinkies?”