24. Marley
TWENTY-FOUR
MARLEY
I wake up in a cocoon of warmth, and I snuggle in deeper. The cocoon wraps tighter around me, and I sigh contentedly. Then my eyes snap open. The cocoon is Bennett. The fact that I can feel that he’s not wearing any clothes is a reminder that I’m not either.
I slowly pull back and look at him. His eyes are closed, and the only thing he’s wearing is a soft smile, like he’s having the most pleasant dream.
“Where are you going?” he asks, one eye opening slowly.
“Nowhere.” It’s the truth; I just needed to make sure I wasn’t having some kind of extremely vivid hallucination.
“You’re not about to freak out, are you?” he asks sleepily, pulling me back into his body.
I give my head a small shake. “That was not my plan, no.” I really was just making sure this was real. That he was real.
In the distance, I hear a dog bark and then the beep of the coffee maker. “You were already up?” I murmur into his chest.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Why didn’t you wake me? ”
“Because then I wouldn’t be able to come back and do this.” His rough hand runs down my back, lighting my skin on fire before he squeezes my ass. “Definitely worth coming back to bed for.”
“Did you even put clothes on to let the dogs out?”
“I’m not insane, Marley. It’s minus one.” He shivers dramatically.
“Then you took them back off?”
“Well, I didn’t think it was very fair to have you naked and me fully dressed. I’m a big fan of equality and fairness.” Thank god for that.
We lay there together in companionable silence, just enjoying the feel of each other. That is, until my stomach rumbles.
Bennett laughs softly and begins to unwind his body from mine. “I’ll run down and grab some coffee.” I admire him as he disappears from view and make a mental note to ask how many squats one would have to do to get an ass that nice. Bennett has a body you can tell was all hard edges and definition ten years earlier. There’s still definition, but it’s just a bit softer, although no less intimidating.
While he is downstairs I do some quick morning maintenance. I don’t want to knock the guy out with my morning breath. Stopping mid-brush, I stare at my reflection. My hair looks a bit like I gave a monkey a comb and said, “Knock yourself out,” and I’ve definitely got a bit of dried drool at the corner of my mouth. But what I’m expecting to see in my reflection is nowhere to be found. I have never spent the entire night with a man. I’ve spent parts of nights, but I’ve never gone to sleep and woken up beside one. I feel like I should be freaking out more. I blink at my reflection a few more times before splashing my face with some cold water, rubbing around my mouth and eyes, then heading back to the bed. I don’t even bother brushing my hair; it’s a nice reminder of last night. So is the slight soreness in my body that has nothing to do with my ankle or hauling myself around on crutches all day.
I’m halfway to the bed when Bennett comes back into the room, carrying an honest-to-god tray. I halt my progress and let my eyes do a lazy sweep of his body, appreciating it from a whole new angle.
“If I looked like you. I’m not sure I’d ever wear clothes,” I say, crawling back into bed and pulling the duvet up to my neck.
He puts the mugs of coffee and a single plate with the pumpkin loaf from Nancy on the side table. “Marley?”
“Yes?”
“Would you be more comfortable if you had some clothes on?” I bite my lip and nod, which earns me a look that is somewhere between pleading and a warning.
“I wouldn’t say no to a shirt,” I say. He picks up his T-shirt and sweats, then walks to my side of the bed and slips the shirt over my head. I hold in a moan because Bennett putting clothes on me should not be turning me on. Once I’ve got it on, he leans in to give me a kiss. And wouldn’t you know, the man also had a date with his toothbrush this morning. Before he gets back into bed, he pulls on his pants, and I’m torn, because goddamn, grey sweatpants should come with a warning, but I was really appreciating the view. Although I may currently be the most spoiled person in the world and shouldn’t complain.
Once he’s settled beside me he hands me my coffee before putting the loaf between us, two forks hanging off the edge of the plate.
“Have something against slices?” I ask, wondering how this is going to go.
He leans back against the headboard and rolls his head towards me. “I don’t know about you, Marley, but the appetite I worked up last night will require more than a slice to satiate. Especially if I plan to be very hungry again in a bit.” Then he takes a long sip of his coffee like he didn’t just say that to me.
The man has made me blush more in the past twelve hours than anyone has in my entire life. He has left me absolutely discombobulated in a way I could happily get used to. After round one, we snuggled on the couch talking about random things, all the dogs spread out in the living room. I had allowed myself a split second to imagine that scenario becoming my nightly routine. Dog cuddles followed by Bennett cuddles. When the little voice telling me it was all temporary tried to cut in, I banished it to the back of my mind. I was fine living in this fantasy for a bit longer. Although ideally my fantasy involved no sprain and me being able to run around with Bennett and the pack. Piggybacks would still be welcome, however.
“So,” I say, leaning back and sighing, “what made you stay in this house and not sell it?”
“Well, for one, no mortgage,” he replies, breaking off a corner of the loaf with his fork.
“Oh yes, I can see how that leads the list of pros.”
“I like the quiet, the space is great for the dogs, and no one drops by unannounced. Well, almost no one.” He peers over at me. “I technically brought you here so you don’t count. And the Hores are basically family at this point.”
I smile as I pop a piece of the loaf into my mouth. “Oh my god,” I moan around the bite. “How does she do this? How does everything she makes taste like unicorn shit?” I hear a snort and then a sort of wheezing from next to me and look over to see coffee dripping from Bennett’s nose, which makes me laugh and then promptly inhale some crumbs directly into my windpipe.
Bennett puts his coffee down and thumps me on the back a few times until the crumbs clear my airway. I look up at him, tears in my eyes, and burst out laughing. Partly because of the coffee still clinging to his beard, but also because even in his current state, I still totally would.
“What?” He moves his head around. “Do I have something on my face?” I put my coffee on the side table then turn back to him and in a spur-of-the-moment decision whip my shirt off and use it to clean the coffee snaking down his beard. When I drop the shirt, he looks shocked to find me sitting there topless, this time not giving into my modesty.
His shock disappears quickly, and he reaches for me.
There are so many things I want to do with this man that physically I can’t right now. Luckily, whatever hint of frustration I begin to feel is wiped out by how Bennett manages to manipulate our bodies. I hate to be that person who claims this is the best I’ve ever had, but holy fuck, it is. I’m not even sorry about leaning into that cliché. Part of me wants to do one of those annoying family newsletters people send out during the holidays but instead of talking about my professional accolades and how I took up needlepoint, I’d simply title it “How Spraining My Ankle Led to the Best Sex of My Life” and then just list adjectives like “mind-blowing” and “stupendous.” I wouldn’t even send it in an envelope; I’d turn it into labels and ship it on jars of Nancy’s sauce. Mouthgasms for all, Happy Holidays. If it’s this good and I don’t have full range of movement, I can’t help letting my imagination run away with the concept of a future here.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts when Bennett says, “Get on your knees, sweetheart.” Despite a flash of worry about pain, I follow his instructions. He murmurs “Good girl” against my back, causing a little thrill to dance through my body. I’ve heard Bennett say that before, but the way he says it to me is definitely different and definitely not unwelcome. When I’m at the edge, understanding dawns as my ankles slide off the mattress. I reprimand myself for worrying at all because of course Bennett wouldn’t do anything that would hurt me. He, no doubt, had worked out which positions would be best by using his big, brilliant, biology brain.
He runs his hands down my sides and then back up. I feel his lips just above my ass as he begins planting kisses along my spine, his lips lingering a little longer where they connect with my scar. When he stops touching me, I glance back and watch as he covers himself. He looks up and catches me admiring him, bottom lip trapped between my teeth.
“That fucking lip,” he groans as he lines himself up with me. “I fucking love what it does to me.” He pushes in slowly, one hand gripping my hip and the other in my hair, gently pulling my head to the side as his teeth make contact with my neck.
When his pace quickens and his hand moves down my body, I think, to hell with the adjectives, I’m just going to mash my hand against the keyboard—they’ll get it.