Need Me (Broke and Beautiful #2)(33)

His heart started to slam when he saw her. Although it was possible it hadn’t beaten since she’d seen him walk in with someone else. But it kick-started now in a gear high enough to make breathing difficult. She hadn’t seen him yet from where she stood in the middle of the sidewalk, staring out into the side street. Her fists were tightened into balls at her sides, body strung tight as a bow.

“Honey.”

She jolted, but didn’t turn to face him. “Jesus. Go away, Ben.”

His throat was impossibly tight. “I think I did this wrong.”

“What were you trying to do?”

“Let you down easy.” It sounded so insanely stupid now. Nothing about this girl or this situation or the way she made him feel was easy. Everything she inspired in him was intense and concentrated.

She tossed her head back and laughed, the sound cutting right through him. “Yeah, I’d say you did it wrong.”

“I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

“I’m not.” Finally, blessedly, she turned those golden eyes on him. And he was f*cked. Fucked. They were hot-tempered and magnificent. Just like the rest of her. They pinned him to where he stood, daring him to move. He couldn’t move, though, because if he moved, it would be toward her, and he needed to move away. How could he do that, when one look from her eviscerated his resolve to end things? “I’m not sorry you did this, Ben, because now I know what an unfeeling * you are. I know you’re not worth my time or thoughts. Now I know.”

Her words scalded him in the worst way. Worst because that part of him she’d woken up, the part that hated when other guys looked at her or ached to see her knee bleeding, demanded that he prove her wrong. It couldn’t cope with her believing that about him. But he forced himself to remain where he was, not going to her even though it tore him open.

Honey narrowed her eyes at him, tilting her head as if she could see everything taking place inside his f*cked-up brain. No, she could. When the corner of her mouth tilted up, he knew she could see it.

She turned on a heel and came toward him, hair streaming out behind her in the night wind. He swore his heart beat ten times in between each click of her shoes on the concrete, each swish of her dress against her thighs. The intention in her eyes was a warning he should be heeding, but it was nothing doing. All he could do was wait for her to reach him, because it felt vital. It was what she might have done in the bar if he hadn’t walked in holding someone else’s hand.

Her fingers dragging up his chest was all it took for him to grow hard as a f*cking rock. He knew that if they hadn’t been standing on a street with cars whizzing past, he would have grabbed her hand and put it on his cock, shamelessly begged her to jack him off. Anyone from the university could have walked past and seen them, but he could only hold his breath and see what she’d do next. When she flattened her palm on his belly and nudged him backwards toward a recessed doorway, Ben went. He needed to. Needed her.

As soon as his back hit the door, she pushed up on her toes and attacked his mouth. The battle immediately went both ways. Her taste exploded through him, hot and delicious, but now it had a familiarity that battered him. He knew her mouth now. He knew the girl attached to it, and he’d f*cked with her in the worst way, goddammit. The words zigzagging through his head commanded his mouth, using it as an outlet, and he kissed her, kissed her, kissed her like his life was at stake. He couldn’t get close enough even though she was trying to climb him with that sweet, sexy body, so he flipped their positions and pressed her between him and the door. Hard.

Honey tore her mouth away on a moan. “You want me, Ben?”

He raked her neck with his teeth. “You can’t feel me? I’m two seconds from f*cking you in this doorway.” Her hips rolled against his hardness, and he pumped his own in response. “Why did you have to be so tight and wet? I can’t think of anything else. Want my mouth on it again. Want inside.”

She brushed her lips over his gently. “Too bad.”

Then she was gone. Slipped out from where he’d wedged her against the door, her body heat, mouth, touch, all stolen from him as he stood there panting into a void.

He turned to see her swipe a hand over her mouth, as if to rid herself of him. “Go ahead back inside, Ben. Go back to your sophisticated New York girlfriend and discuss Kafka over craft beers. Whatever makes you happy.” She stepped back quickly when he reached for her. “I know you want me, even though you don’t want to. Maybe you’ve never forgiven me for lying to you in the closet. I don’t know. I do know I could wear you down and make you give in. But you know what? I’m not interested in you anymore. I’m not interested in anything you have to offer.”

No. This isn’t happening. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do, but he hadn’t taken into account what it would feel like to be on the receiving end. Is this how she’d felt? Oh God. “Honey—”

“Enjoy your night.”

She put up a hand to hail a cab. No, he couldn’t let her go like this. Ben tried to go after her, but two sets of hands held him back. His confusion over Russell and Louis’s appearance behind him cost him precious seconds. She threw herself into the backseat of a cab and left. Left him.





Chapter 12



HONEY PEERED DOWN into the eyepiece of her microscope at the slide she’d placed on the stage. After observing for a few moments, she noted her findings in her notepad. The scratching of her pen sounded amplified in the surrounding quiet, alerting her that she was alone in the lab, half of the lights shut off. A glance at the clock told her it was after five o’clock. Shit. She rubbed at her sore eyes, knowing Roxy and Abby would be wondering where she was. The downside to being an awesome cook and preparing meals often was that people started to expect it. Not that she minded. Most of the time. Her roommates found other ways of making up for their constant need to be fed. Such as letting her stew all weekend without comment or setting a tub of ice cream down on the coffee table and handing her a ladle.