Chapter 33
33
HOPE
I forgot to draw my curtains last night , is my first thought as the bright morning sunlight sends sharp pins through my eyes.
My second is … where on earth am I?
I curl my fingers into hard muscle, and when I finally open my gritty eyes properly and follow the slab of chest upward, I’m greeted by one of the most handsome faces I’ve ever seen.
Relaxed in sleep but still cradling me like I’m the most precious thing on earth, he looks so beautiful. Thick, dark lashes rest on the apples of his cheeks, and his short beard has thickened overnight. His lips look as soft as I know them to be, and the urge to push up a little and press my mouth to his is overwhelming.
This man gave me a safe haven to fall apart last night. He didn’t judge. He didn’t give me false platitudes or promises. He listened and held my broken pieces together. And by doing that, he’s slowly putting each piece back into place. This morning, I’m strangely calm. My brain’s quiet, and my heart doesn’t ache quite as much as it did the night before.
I sink back into his warmth with a sigh, wishing I could stay here all day. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt a man’s arms around me—experienced contentment like this. Somehow I feel everything’s changed, but when I glance around the room, nothing’s changed at all. My muscles draw tight when my eyes land on my wedding photo.
Guilt is swift, slicing through my contentment with the sharpest blade, spilling my shame like blood on a battlefield.
What am I doing, snuggling into another man’s arms?
With urgency, I push against Ben’s chest, so I can climb to my feet, but his fingers tighten on my hip, and the arm holding me to him tenses, not allowing me to gain my freedom.
A soft rumble vibrates against me, and when I look up, sleepy gray eyes are watching me closely. Creases form between his dark brows as his eyes flick between mine, and I should feel trapped as he silently holds me in place. Instead, relief cascades through my body and my mind. I have no other option than to stay where I am. With quiet authority, he’s removing my guilt for finding solace in his arms by holding me steady.
I know, down to my core, if I wanted to move away, he would let me go, but somehow he knows I need this connection. He knows I need his embrace. I need the security he’s quietly giving me. I relax back into him and soak up this moment of peace.
His fingers loosen on my hip, and his other hand comes up to cup my face reverently. His soft lips press against the top of my head, and I sigh with a long exhale, releasing the tightness across my chest.
I draw in a long breath, taking Ben’s outdoorsy scent deep into my lungs. With my next exhale, I release a little of the guilt I feel for waking in another man’s arms. With each breath out, I release everything that’s been buried deep inside for too long, and with each breath in, I fill the empty spaces with Ben and the peace he’s giving me.
Tilting my head back, I gaze into his stormy gaze and see the questions written there. Are you okay? How can I help?
Yes, I’m okay. You already have . I answer without words.
A soft smile touches his lips, and his eyes sparkle in the morning light. His fingers trace my cheek, and his warm breath coats my mouth. It would be so easy to lean upward and show him my gratitude with a kiss … the problem is … I don’t want to kiss him out of gratitude.
I want to kiss him because I want to feel his mouth against mine again. I want to taste his lips … to feel his tongue stroke against mine. He’s awakened me in ways I never dreamed possible after losing Wyatt.
It should feel wrong to have these thoughts and feelings swirling through me for another man.
A man who isn’t my husband.
It should feel wrong to have Ben’s arms wrapped around me … to want his lips against mine.
But none of it does.
It feels right.
After all this time …
After all the pain and tears and agony.
It feels too good to ignore.
Wyatt wouldn’t want me to be alone. He’d want me to find love and happiness again. I know he would. And even though I’ve fought the idea until now, maybe it was because I was waiting for Ben. Before leaving the party yesterday, everyone made sure to tell me how much they liked him and how they thought Wyatt would like him, too.
I can’t ignore the way he makes me feel. His patience and understanding make him incredibly attractive, and it doesn’t hurt that the package he comes in is easy on the eyes. He’s not playing games and has been honest with me about what he’d like.
With the same patience he’s always shown, he watches me silently as I work through my thoughts and come to a decision. His gaze studies me like he can see every thought and doubt I have.
As I give myself permission to be in the moment—to do what my body aches to do—I tilt my head back and straighten in his arms, pushing upward. He must realize what I’m about to do because he sucks in a sharp breath, and when I glance back up at his eyes, the heat I see there gives me the courage to follow through.
I lick my lips, tasting Ben’s breath on my tongue. His eyes trace the movement and his pupils blow wide. Dipping his head slightly, he meets me halfway, and I swear, when we finally make contact, flames lick down my spine and heat my blood.
His fingers tighten on my hip once again, but for a completely different reason, as our mouths connect, touch, and taste.
A soft rumble vibrates beneath my hand, and my heart slams against my ribs. I need to be closer to him, so I press against his firm chest and slide my hand into the short strands of his hair to hold him to me—silently demanding more.
His arm tightens around my body, eliminating any space between us. Our kiss is unhurried as he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, then does the same with my top lip before dipping his tongue inside.
It’s been such a long time.
My blood fizzes as our kiss goes on. Slow, sweet strokes of tongue against tongue. Lips sucking and moving against one another in a seductive dance. Giddiness erupts in my stomach and spreads outward through my limbs to my fingers and toes.
I twist in Ben’s embrace until I’m straddling his thighs. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight against his body, leaving not a single breath of space between us. My breasts are squashed tight against his pecs, and I tilt my head to take the kiss deeper.
A soft moan makes its way up my throat, which he swallows down and answers with a groan of his own. His length is hard between us, and I shuffle my hips forward until my center meets his. We both suck in a sharp breath, and his hands move to the small dip at my waist where he grips firmly to hold me in place. He wrenches his mouth away, his heavy breaths matching mine. Our gazes meet and lock.
“Cookie?” One single word full of so many questions that I can’t answer … only feel .
I lick his taste from my lips as I gather my thoughts so I can work out what he’s asking me, but my mind is filled with lust.
“What do you need?” he asks, his voice rough with his own restrained desire.
I work against his grip on my waist and grind my center along his hard length. The only thing on my mind is relieving this heavy ache in my core. A whimper escapes at the contact, and I drop my forehead to his chest, breaking eye contact. My heart thunders as lightning skates down my spine at the feel of him against me.
He feels so good.
It won’t take much to make me see stars.
I rock again and his hands leave my waist, one sliding across my stomach and up between my breasts until it stops at my throat. With a light grip, he tilts my head back with his thumb until our eyes meet.
“Talk to me.”
My breath gushes out of me as the heat of his stare touches mine, and I lick my lips, not even a little embarrassed by my behavior. I feel like I’ve gone from zero to one hundred in mere seconds, and if I don’t quench this ache, I might die. “I need … this ache … it almost hurts,” I murmur, brokenly.
He presses his hips up from beneath me, and a moan caresses my lips. I couldn’t hold it back if I tried.
“Take what you need. I’m yours. Have been since the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he whispers roughly, and my heart stutters to a stop.
I close my eyes, blocking his vulnerability. His honesty. His words.
He presses up beneath me, using one hand on my hip to guide me along his length. The friction feels so damn good, and I’m already so close. Sparks sizzle through my blood, and stars appear behind my lids. With the perfect rhythm and pressure, Ben pushes me closer to the release I’m seeking, but I need something more.
His hand tightens around my throat, and his mouth crashes down on mine in the next moment. He pushes his tongue between my lips without ceremony and kisses me like I’m his everything, showing me with his actions exactly what he meant by his words.
He kisses me like I’m his, and it’s enough to shove me over the edge of the cliff I was balancing on. Free-falling into an orgasm that steals my breath and empties my mind of everything except pure pleasure. He swallows my moan as my body shatters into a million tiny shards of light. I grip the longer strands of his hair tight to ground me as I explode.
For beautiful moments, I lose myself in the sensation—the buzz, the thrum of an orgasm so powerful I’m still shaking.
Ben kisses me roughly, still guiding my hips back and forth until a rumble of a groan explodes against my lips. My blood sizzles beneath my burning flesh, his touch branding me in a way that’s so powerful it’s frightening.
His body tightens and shakes beneath me, much the way mine just did. He rips his mouth away and drops his head to the back of the couch, pushing his hips up into me. “Fuuuck!” he grits as his jaw tightens beneath his stubble.
My eyes widen. I came, then he came.
Realization dawns as I watch his chest rise and fall with sharp breaths, the veins along his neck protruding with his exertion, and when his satisfied gaze drops to mine, I burst into tears.
Horrible loud sobbing tears.
I bury my face in my hands and try to scramble off his lap, but his arms wrap around me like a tourniquet. Like he can somehow hold all of my broken pieces together.
He can’t.
Nobody can.
I’m too broken and there are too many jagged shards.
“L-l-let m-m-e g-g-o,” I stutter and, keeping my face averted, drop my hands to his chest to push away.
His hands tighten. Then, a moment later, he releases me. I shuffle back and, with shaky legs, climb to my feet. Spinning away from him, I race upstairs to my bedroom and close myself inside. Drowning in guilt and disgust with myself, I slide down the door until my butt lands on the carpet.
What did I just do?