Give Me Tonight(47)

But she did want to.

Look at him sitting there, just daring me to make a move. He looks good even when he s dirty and messed up. Leah always said she figured the Devil would be a mighty handsome man.

Why is he so tempting? It s the bad in me. The bad in him appeals to the worst part of me.

What would it feel like?

Ben appeared to be relaxed, but she knew he was as alert as a cat. She wished he didn't look so predatory. He had issued the challenge; now he was waiting for her response. She forced herself to smile carelessly. Bending quickly, she brushed her lips across his in the lightest of touches, too fast for him to respond.

"Feel better?" she asked in a sugar-coated voice, and he eyed her sardonically, the moment of tension almost broken. But not quite.

"Hardly."

"Well, what were you expecting?"

Now the challenge was thrown to him. He accepted it without hesitation. Standing up in a swift move­ment, he caught her waist in his hands and backed her up until the edge of the table pressed into her bu**ocks. She didn't know what to do or where to put her hands. Her palms came to rest on his upper arms, on the hard swell of muscle that tightened at her touch. And she looked up at him, confused and excited, and curious. Just this once it wouldn't hurt. She would let it hap­pen, and she didn't care what he said or thought after­ward. He lowered his dark head and nuzzled her ear, and the touch of his hot breath in the hollow behind her earlobe made her shiver.

"That's a good question," he said. "What should I expect from a woman like you?" He heard her swal­low convulsively, felt her body tense as he drew closer. She wasn't trying to move away, although they both knew he would have let her go easily had she made a move to be free. The skin of her arms was soft under­neath his fingers.

Suddenly she seemed very fragile to Ben, someone to be handled gently and treated with tenderness. He'd never felt that for anyone in his life, or held a woman who trembled at his touch. He was accustomed to women who were comfortable with men, well-versed in the ways a man liked to be pleased. But there was a vast gulf between their knowledge and this woman's. Despite her attempts at sophistication, she didn't have much actual experience, of that he was fairly certain. There was no way her shyness, her uncertainty, could be manufactured. Why did it arouse him so?

“Addie, " he murmured, and her breath caught as his mouth began to wander to the edge of her jaw. "Don't pretend with me. Not ever."

"Wh-what? "

"I hope I'm not imagining you. Am I, Addie?"

"No—"

"It doesn't matter if I am." His hands urged her upward, gently forcing her to rise on her toes. "Don't pull away, Adeline."

She wanted to pull away, but her body was thrilling with exhilaration, guilt, and fear. Her face turned that necessary half-inch, to an angle that aligned with his. She was lost in the deep green sea of his eyes. His arm slid around her back, trapping her, keeping her close, and suddenly both of them were aware of her br**sts pressed snugly into his chest.

As he bent his head to kiss her, she held her breath and her eyes closed. Just as their lips met, there was the sound of footsteps outside the kitchen door, and Russell's imperious voice.

"Addie? Addie, where are you?"

They broke apart in a startled movement. Addie flushed and spun away from Ben, touching her mouth with her fingertips as if he'd left a brand. There had been no time to feel anything but a delicious hint of warmth . . . but that was more than she ever should have known of Ben Hunter.

"We're both in the kitchen," Ben replied, swiping up the dripping cloth full of ice and holding it to his face as he sat down abruptly. He and Addie stared at each other for one burning moment until Russell strode into the kitchen.

"I see she's got you fixed up good," he said, seem­ing not to notice Addie's discomposure. "Adeline, there's a thing or two we got to talk about."

"Oh?"

"That Johnson boy—well, things hafta change be­tween you and him."

"What do you mean?" she asked warily. "The quarrel is between you and Big George. That doesn't have to affect my friendship with Jeff. "

'The quarrel's between the Warners and the John­sons. Which means there's no more friendship be­tween you and Jeff. You're not goin' to see him anymore, or even talk to him. Understand?"

If he had approached her in a different way, she might have tried to understand his viewpoint. But the way he said it, as an order for her to follow, a com­mand for her to obey, fired her temper as quickly as if he'd set a match to gunpowder.

"It looks like we have a few things to discuss," she said evenly, trying to keep calm."

"There's nothin' to talk about."

Ben cleared his throat. "Looks like it's time for me to leave."

"Stay," Russ commanded without looking at him.

"This won't take long."

"But then again, it might," Addie said tersely.

"Because you seem to think that all you have to do is dictate orders and watch me rush to obey. But I'm an adult, and I have some say in this."

"Now, Addie, don't be stubborn, or—"

"Or you'll send me to bed early? Or give me less pocket money? I'm not a child to be disciplined. I'm an adult."