Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
BAD ENGLISH, “WHEN I SEE YOU SMILE”
Gabby
The next morning, I opened my door to shower before my first class. On the floor in the hallway was a sack. I pulled out a cup of tea that smelled like ginger and honey, a banana, and a breakfast sandwich with eggs and sausage. There was a note folded inside as well.
Dear Gabby,
If you need me, I’m staying with Jason. My bed was still available. I’m an excellent study partner if you need help. How are your feet? I give good foot rubs, and I can braid hair. So if we have a girl, you won’t have to do all the braiding.
Love,
Benjamin Ashford, baby daddy in training
I didn’t want to smile. He had a long way to go before earning any part of my happiness.
After enjoying my breakfast, I showered and hurried to my first class. Instead of going back to my dorm room between classes, I grabbed lunch and hid in the library. I wasn’t ready to risk seeing Ben.
Of course, I was mad about Laurel.
Of course, I questioned if he would have come had I not been pregnant.
Of course, I loved him.
But it really wasn’t about him, and I needed to always remember that.
When I returned to the dorm after my last class, there was another sack with an orange, trail mix (my favorite kind with chocolate instead of raisins), and a baby name book. I tried not to think about Ben casting me aside for Laurel. It hurt to feel disposable and replaceable.
I was young and selfish, which meant I wanted to take an imperfect situation and paint it in gold and glitter. What if Ben had opened every letter the second they arrived, and without hesitation, he hastily wrote me back? A yearning to the urgency in which we communicated. What if he rushed back to Michigan the second he learned of my pregnancy? And when he arrived, I was blown away that he’d been learning to read lips and sign.
My imagination was as vast as the divide I felt between us. But no matter the distance, our baby tethered me to him. It felt inevitable that I would drown before we found common ground, an island to save us.
* * *
Over the following week, Ben left meals and snacks along with the occasional note, always signed Benjamin Ashford, baby daddy in training.
He wanted to know the date and time of my next doctor visit, if my feet were swelling, how much water I was drinking, and if I’d felt the baby move. I resisted the temptation to answer him in any form. Ben’s gestures, while sweet, were low-hanging fruit. I needed something more.
Friday after my last class, I took a nap, but before I reached the good kind of sleep where I drooled and had vivid dreams, someone knocked at my door. I yawned while opening it. Ben held a plant, not flowers or a box of candy, a green houseplant.
“Spider plants clean the air,” he said, stepping inside uninvited. “How are you feeling today?” he asked, setting the plant on the floor by the window.
When he faced me, I said, “okay.”
Tiny lines formed across his forehead and he scraped his teeth along his bottom lip. “I hope you said fine, great, fabulous, or something like that. I won’t ask you to write it down, since that ended poorly for me last time.” He scratched his scruffy jaw.
I tried not to grin at his goofy gesture.
“Can I see our baby?”
I rolled my eyes.
“You know what I mean. Your belly.”
I frowned. There wasn’t much to see, but I sat on my bed and leaned backward, legs dangling over the side. Then I lifted my shirt. Ben hesitated for a few seconds before sitting next to me. He rested his hand on my belly above my navel, too high to feel my bump. So I took his hand and slid it beneath the waist of my sweatpants, over my uterus.
He smiled, cheeks a little pink, eyes sparkling. But I kept a neutral face because I was still mad at him. My heart skipped when he ducked his head and pushed down the front of my sweats so he could press his lips to my tiny bump.
“I love you,” he whispered.
I wasn’t sure if he was talking to our baby or me. Either way, he twisted my emotions. I refused to cave so easily. Still, I liked his lips on my belly, his whiskers tickling my skin. It wasn’t planned or intentional, but my fingers found their way into his hair, and he kissed my belly again.
My heart stopped skipping and took off sprinting. A heavy feeling settling in my breasts. Ben lifted his head, and I curled my fingers, tugging at his hair.
He eyed me as I wet my lips and slowly blinked. I felt heady and … aroused. And suddenly, all I could think about was Isaac and Sarah on the sofa on Christmas morning.
Keeping his unblinking gaze glued to mine, he kissed my belly again and again, working his way a little lower each time until his lips grazed the waistband of my white underwear.
I didn’t let go of his hair.
He tested my response, tucking just his fingertips under the cotton-covered elastic band. My chest rose and fell a little harder, so he inched his fingers a little farther, pulling the front of my panties down another fraction, trailing his lips in the same direction.
When I didn’t protest, he slid off the bed and kneeled on the floor, keeping a sharp eye on my reaction. The only thing I could do was repeatedly wet my lips.
Ben removed my sweatpants, and again, eyed me with caution, looking for the slightest hesitation in my response. His gaze flickered lower, settling between my legs. He skated his hand up my inner thigh and his thumb brushed along the wet crotch of my underwear.
Every move was agonizingly slow, and even though I knew it was because he needed permission, it also drove me mad with need.
Ben trapped his lower lip between his teeth and peeled off my underwear. A full body blush heated my skin and intensified tenfold when he spread my legs and hooked one over his shoulder. He turned his head to the side and kissed his way up the inside of my leg.
I thought I might have a heart attack, and I knew he couldn’t hear me, but I was panting hard.
Scared.
Excited.
Dizzy.
Aroused.
My legs tried to close as he reached the top.
Oh God …
Again, I fisted his hair, unsure if I wanted to push him away or pull him closer. It was new and euphoric. Frightening and forbidden. When his warm tongue breached the space between my legs, I jumped, and my other hand gripped the sheet beneath me.
Ben gazed up at me for a second before closing his eyes. His tongue and lips moved in slow, languid strokes along my sensitive flesh. My legs relaxed, opening wider. It felt so incredibly good, unlike anything I had ever experienced. I knew why Sarah moaned the way she did because I was making the same noises.
I wiggled and twisted my body the closer I got to orgasming, and that drew a moan from Ben as he guided my other leg over his shoulder and moved his tongue faster and sucked harder.
“Bennn!” The explosive sensation and unrelenting waves of pleasure nearly blinded me as my body jerked in response.
Ben’s lips teased my inner thighs again, and I felt him smile against my skin. It was good. Who was I kidding? It was the most spectacular feeling I had ever experienced.
However, when I came down from the extreme high, reality seeped back into my conscience. My burning need to orgasm got me into this situation. I couldn’t let him manipulate me with his tongue.
But dear God, I wanted to.
I jackknifed to sitting, forcing him to sit back on his heels. Then I hopped off the bed and pulled on my underwear and sweats. In the next breath, I opened the door and signed, “Thank you. Go away.”
Ben remained on his knees, eyeing me with a smirk. When I kept a straight face, he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and stood. That made me blush again, but I didn’t give away anything else. He stopped at the door, regarding me while I kept my gaze pointed at his chest.
“You’re welcome,” he said and sauntered down the hallway.
I shut the door before he had the chance to glance back at me.