Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
C ollins was nervous. The kind of nervousness that made her skin slick with cold sweat. The kind that made her stomach roll and messed with her thought process. She drove ten miles under the speed limit all the way to Duffer’s Place. Then she parked in a NO PARKING spot but was too embarrassed to move the truck, so she hopped out and started for the porch. Maybe Benton would call a friend to come and get him. Maybe he’d disappear into the night, and she wouldn’t have to face the overwhelming fear that had found a home inside her.
This was new territory. Putting herself out there like this without the cover of darkness or the illusion of anonymity. She’d practically laid herself bare, and she paused at the door. Jesus, he was two steps behind.
Exhaling shakily, she walked inside the house. The foyer was dimly lit with a small lamp on the front desk, casting an even smaller circle of light. Carefully, she made her way to the stairs, very aware of the man who followed in her steps.
Her boots were quiet on the worn hardwood as she crossed the landing to her bedroom door. She managed to get the key in without too much trouble and opened up, then pushed inside before she made an ass out of herself. Stumbling in the dark, she walked over to the bedside table and turned it on, then took a moment to try and calm her fast-beating heart. It was no use, and she gave up.
She tossed her purse and turned around.
Benton stood just inside the room, his tall frame and wide shoulders took up so much space and air, she struggled to draw breath.
“Wine?” she asked, hating how high and tinny her voice sounded.
His dark eyes glittered, and he slowly shook his head. “No, thank you.”
“Water?”
“I’m good.”
She moved to the small fridge near the sitting area. God, her mouth was so dry it felt like sandpaper. She grabbed a bottle for herself and gulped it down, swiping at the drops that didn’t make it.
“Are you okay?” His voice was gentle, and her insides liquified. Seriously, how was she not a puddle of flesh and bone right now? He moved closer.
She tried to smile, but her face felt plastic. Instead, she played with the empty bottle in her hands and said nothing.
“We don’t…” Benton swore under his breath. “We don’t need to do this.”
“I want you.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and ashamed at how childish she sounded, she glanced down. He wasn’t a toy for fuck sake.
The air still crackled with that unmistakable energy that seemed to follow her around when he was near. It settled over her shoulders. Made her shiver even though the room was warm. The AC didn’t work all that well in a house as old as this one.
“Hey.” His voice was rough, with that low timbre that did funny things to her body. She felt his hand on her chin and was forced to look up at him. “It’s late. You just worked a ten-hour shift slinging beer to a bunch of yahoos and I…”
Her eyes were on his mouth. “And you?” she prompted softly.
“I could use some sleep if we’re being honest.” His hand slid up the side of her face, and she rested her cheek against it. He was so warm and strong. He feels so right.
“That’s a big bed. Why don’t we get some shuteye and see how things shake out in the morning? There’s nothing wrong with taking things slow.”
Could there be a more perfect man on the planet?
No. Nope. Nowhere on this earth would she find someone like Benton Bridgestone.
“Okay.” Collins moved back. She stepped out of her boots. Then undid her jeans. Shimmied out of them. She lifted her black T-shirt over her head and tossed it on the pile at her feet. Those dark eyes of his were still on her, and shadows from his long lashes touched his face.
Her mouth was still dry. Her body was a jangle of nerves as she stood in front of him in a skimpy pair of pink undies and the matching bra. Could he see the pulse at her neck? Feel the heat from her body?
Benton slowly removed his boots. Shrugged out of his jeans and discarded his T-shirt. He was a God and stood in front of her wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers, the athletic kind that cupped everything. She noticed things and moved toward him. Her finger traced a scar on his left shoulder. Another one on his hip. Then it traveled to the snake tattoo on the side of his neck, where she lingered. His pulse was just as ramped up as hers.
“Keep that up and we won’t get any sleep.” His voice was gruff. Whiskey tinged.
She licked her lips, craving the feel of his. “Maybe I don’t want to sleep after all.”
“I think sleep is exactly what you need.” His eyes were hypnotizing. His touch was a whisper. He led her to the bed and waited until she lay down. Then he slipped in behind her and pulled her into his arms.
“Relax,” he whispered in her ear. The man worked a ranch, and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. He was hard planes and muscles and heat. He was perfect and she fit against like she was meant to be there. With only scraps of material keeping things decent, her limbs began to loosen. It didn’t take long for legs and arms to become noodles.
His breathing eventually matched hers, and that band of tension inside Collins evaporated. An unfamiliar feeling crept across her as sleep slowly edged its way in. What was it, she thought. And just before Sandman claimed her, she realized that it was a sense of safety. Of belonging.
I love you. The words whispered in her head, and with her body wedged against Benton’s, she fell asleep.
Hours later, a noise woke her. Sleep fogged, it took a bit for her to open her eyes because it felt like they were pierced with toothpicks. It was early. There was barely light coming in from the window, and there was no warmth at her back.
Collins rolled over and spied Benton standing a few feet away. He’d pulled on his jeans but was shirtless.
“You’re leaving?” Her voice was full of rasp, and she cleared her throat a bit, then propped herself up on her elbows, shaking her head to get hair from her eyes.
Benton turned around, those dark, intense eyes as beautiful as anything she’d ever seen. That was saying something considering she lived and worked in a world where beauty was an everyday thing. All of the Bridgestone men could be models. They had the kind of masculinity that consumers ate up. But Benton was different. And it wasn’t just because he was more aloof. It was that fact that she saw his soul in his eyes. He didn’t make any effort to hide what he was feeling.
It was sexy and wonderful and kind of scary.
He walked to the bed, and she held her breath when he bent over and pressed his mouth against her forehead. It was the lightest of touches, but it sent liquid heat tumbling through her body.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
She didn’t answer because she couldn’t. Would he reject her? Was this the end of whatever this was between them?
He studied her silently, and then a slow grin spread across his face. Like the sun breaking over the mountains, it was a sight to behold. And it took her breath away. Literally.
“I haven’t woken up beside a woman in a long time. I forgot how nice it feels.” He moved back a couple of inches, and she was finally able to loosen up her lungs.
“I don’t want you to leave yet.”
“I know. But while you were sleeping, I was thinking about things.”
Oh God. This was it. He was going to end things before he gave her a chance.
“We’ve already done the sex thing and we know it’s good.”
“Good?” She raised an eyebrow and nearly swooned when he chuckled.
“It was…” He held her gaze. “More than good.”
Her eyebrows rose higher.
“It was the best sex I ever had.”
God. Ditto.
“Like I said, last night was nice and I think that if we…”
She moved onto her knees and stared up at him. “If we?”
“If we are going to move forward and do something about all these feelings between us, I think we should do it right. We need to take the time to get to know each other.”
Seriously. This man could be the hero in any one of the romance novels she loved to read.
“But I feel you need some fair warning. You need to have all the facts, and if what I propose doesn’t work for you, then say so.”
She had no words inside her, but nodded and hoped he couldn’t hear how hard her heart was working, banging against her ribcage like a hammer.
“I have a daughter, and she means the world to me. I put her first in everything. But her mother and I are having some issues, and it could get ugly. I think that timing-wise, this, us , isn’t good. It’s probably the worst time for me to be with someone.” His eyes never wavered. “But this thing we feel is different, and I want to see where it goes even though it might get messy with all the other stuff in my life.”
“Okay,” she said softly. “I’m in.”
Benton leaned down and kissed her. It was soft and sweet and the barest of touches, yet she felt it down to her toes.
“You’re working tonight?”
She nodded.
“Get some shut-eye and I’ll call you tomorrow. There’s a church picnic in town, Saturday. I’m taking Nora. Maybe you’d like to join us.”
Again, she nodded but said nothing because all the words inside her had disappeared.
He grabbed his T-shirt, pulled it on, and with one last look her way, left.
Collins waited until she was sure he’d cleared the stairs, then turned over and screamed into the pillow. She kicked her feet, wiggled her body, and eventually turned onto her side and snuggled back under the covers. She grabbed the pillow and closed her eyes, then fell asleep with a smile on her face.