Twelve
Ben
My apartment’s ten minutes away, allowing me to run home, shower, and change. Entering my apartment, I notice the space feels so empty. The silence is a bit of a shock to my system after the loud music in my car. I’ve been attached to Sadie like a magnet, and now I feel her absence. There is no Southern drawl or loud laughter. Has it always been this quiet? Maybe life has always been dull without her. When I leave for my next shows, daydreaming about her and calling or texting her is all I will have. She is taking up such a large portion of me, I feel it all around. The walls are closing in on me, and there isn’t any way I can stop them. Hell, I don’t want to.
When I return to her place within the hour, the silence explodes and bursts of Sadie ricochet around me.
Entering the house, I see she has changed into another pair of skintight yoga pants and a loose tee. My hands are yearning to touch. Her large breasts are playing peekaboo, and I don’t think she knows it. I see the light tan of her tight nipples straining through the white top she’s blessing my eyes with.
This sweet-talking, innocent angel has made a hostile takeover. She’s released a new kind of narcotic in my brain, and it’s both thrilling and damn near terrifying. I’ve never wanted something past one night, never dreamed of staying celibate in hopes of getting a taste of something off-limits.
Her voice—God, that voice—echoes in my head, louder than the damn piano did. She’s a melody, her angelic soprano voice therapy for my tortured soul. If she let us, I would have stayed seated at the piano and played every song I possibly could, all so I could hear her voice over and over again. Then she reached out to me for answers, called for me to make sense of our connection. Hell if I know. I’m as unsure as she is about what’s happening between us. Whatever is happening contradicts everything we believe and who we are as individuals. Sadie wants the white picket fence, and I want an empty highway where I can’t be slowed down.
I’m the rock star who never settles for anything other than a quick fix, while she’s wrapped in her innocent purity, hiding from men like me. We’re the very things we never planned for. And that makes me want her even more—makes this all the more tantalizing. Sadie leads us to the kitchen as I stay locked in my own mind, which is often the most dangerous place for me to be.
“I can scoop us some ice cream with about fifty million different toppings. Dessert before dinner is always a good idea.” Sadie interrupts my wayward thoughts. My eyes scan her beautiful body as she reaches up to grab some bowls from the top cabinet. As her heels plant firmly on the floor, her round ass bounces delectably, and my cock grows hard again.
Fuck.
“Ben?”
I zoned out again.
“Shit, that sounds great, angel.”
“Perfect. I have some vanilla ice cream.”
“My favorite,” I add.
“Mine too.” She blushes, another small thing about her that makes my heart feel like it’s being squeezed lifeless. “I have chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and a ton of sprinkles.” Her giggle sounds delicate in the big space. I smile proudly as I watch her busy herself. Finally noticing my silent stare, she shakes her head and rushes to assess her body.
“What, is something on me?” She lifts her arms, and I rap my knuckles on the granite countertop.
“Nope, nothing wrong. Actually, there may be one thing.” I round the counter, and she stays stock-still, her eyes following me as I close in on her.
“What?”
“You see . . .” I stop in front of her, placing one hand on her hip and collecting the whipped cream. “I’ve always wanted to have a whipped cream fight. But no one was ever willing to go up against me.”
Swallowing, she tilts her head up. “Ben . . .” She trails off, but before she can leave my hold, I attack. Lifting the can, I shake it and spray her right in the face. Squealing, she gawks at me through her cream-covered face.
“You freaking jerk!”
I step back and hold the can up in the air, feigning innocence.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. This thing just went off,” I tease, and she reacts like a bolt of lightning. She grabs the can and catches the side of my face as I turn to run. Laughing, she points at me mockingly. I keep my face turned, wiping some whipped cream off my cheek and bringing it to my mouth, savoring the taste with a sly grin.
“You think you got me?” Slowly turning my head, I squint and shake my head. Widening her blue eyes, she takes two small steps backward.
“Three-second head start, and if I catch you, you’ll regret it,” I rumble. “One . . .”
Finally setting herself in motion, she drops the can on the counter and runs toward the living room.
“Two!” I raise my voice, listening closely so I can hear her pass through the living room. She yelps on a soft giggle, and that’s my cue. I cheat and take the doorway from her kitchen to the entryway.
I see her already on the landing between the first and second set of stairs. Fuck, she’s fast. Peering back to see where I am, she lets out a scream and keeps running.
“Baby! Don’t you dare lock yourself in a room. I’ll fucking break the door down if you do!” I yell, taking two steps at a time.
“Then don’t chase me!”
“Too late for that, tease!” I make it to the top of the stairs right as she shuts herself in what I’m assuming is her bedroom. I hurry to get to the door before she locks it, and just in time, I grab the knob and turn it as she laughs hysterically.
“Ben! Ahh!” I push the door open, and she backs up. Now I have the upper hand, and I slowly corner her. At this point, whipped cream has made its way onto our clothes, but there is still a little bit left on her button nose.
“You can’t win against me.”
“Real confident there. You chased me, but looks like I’m in the running to win.”
Lifting my brows, I challenge her on that. “Okay, fine.” I close the gap and swoop her up swiftly, dropping us onto her bed. She doesn’t fight; instead, she throws her head back and laughs without regard. I let Sadie enjoy herself while I lie back and admire her. Her laugh, her smile, everything about her is beautiful to watch.
“Wait, wait, you win ’cause you’re cute,” she chokes out between laughs.
“Every time you laugh, it reminds me of a melody.” I relax, and our laughter dulls naturally. We settle into something I’m not familiar with: a safe place. Somewhere comfortable.
On a tired breath, she whispers, “You going to write me a song, Ben Cooper?”
I let my hand trail lazily over her shins the way the breeze passes against you, almost like a whisper. “If it will make you fall in love with me, then I would write never-ending sonnets. Different poems that tell the story of who you are and what you’ve done to me.”
“I don’t need the song. Keep talking like that and you’ll waltz right into my heart.” Her accent is thick, only increasing how precious she is to me. I want to roar valiantly that she is all mine and I will keep her captive.
For a few more moments, we look at one another, each feeling the other out. Though I wish I could explain how we feel, I can’t—but it feels real. It’s indescribable, like seeing love in the darkness or hearing it in silence.
I have to put a stop to this moment. If I don’t, I will dissolve into nothing.
“We’re a mess. Guess I could shower in the guest bathroom.” I start to sit up, assessing the now-destroyed shirt that I changed into barely an hour ago. Checking the bedside clock, I see it’s nearing 11:00 p.m.
Sadie doesn’t respond, and I risk looking back at her lying on the bed. I see the haze in her eyes, and she looks me up and down as she wages a war inside: Does she go left or right?
“What?” I ask softly. Behind Sadie’s look of wonderment, I sense lust. I can smell it, see it, feel it radiating off her.
We stare at each other silently. My fingers keep caressing up and down the length of her leg. I bet if she didn’t have on leggings, I would feel a thousand goose bumps of desire.
“What, Sadie?” I ask again.
“If I weren’t a girl with particular morals, I would beg you to wash me clean.”
I nearly choke out my last breath when she bats her long lashes as her husky voice whispers such a temptation. I hurriedly stand up and start pacing around her room.
“Sadie, fuck. Don’t do that. I’m not a man with much control. Putting that out there makes me more than ready to take what’s mine,” I growl, my cock growing in my jeans. Shit, I don’t want to get hard because if I keep this up, I’ll get a severe case of blue balls.
“What’s yours?” Like a lioness, she slowly rolls onto her stomach then positions herself on all fours. The way she slithers toward me is sin. Pure sin. Her dancing eyes entice me. I halt at the end of her bed and watch her. My eyes are glazed over.
“You’re mine, Sadie—I won’t let you out of my calloused, scarred hands. You could beat me black and blue and I would still keep a death grip on you.”
Her breath catches, releasing with a shudder. “You’re a rock star, Ben. You’ll forget about me just like you forget the cities you’ve played in as they fade in the rearview mirror of the tour bus.”
Now on her knees at the edge of the bed, she leaves only a few inches between us. My thighs touch the bed, and she brings those tiny, soft, feminine hands to my shirt. They sneak under the fabric to touch my sizzling skin.
Those giant blue eyes of hers are staring up at me under long, thick lashes, teasing me in tandem with the touch of her hand. My heart rate is jacked up to a hundred, my head is spinning a mile a minute, and I can’t grab onto anything surrounding me. Well, there’s one thing that can steady me, a talisman in a clusterfuck of “what is happening to me” moments—Sadie.
“I couldn’t shake you or drink you or drug you out of my system. I want you there, Sadie, fucking stuck.”
“Make sure you don’t break my heart.” Those words in that Southern accent melt me to nothing, and I’m a damn servant at her feet. Sadie has no idea the power she has over me or what it means for her to be able to make my black heart feel something.
“Sadie, you have no idea what a mistake you’re making,” I admit. I’m telling the truth. I won’t be able to handle her hurting me—in any way—rationally.
“I do. I know the risk, but I’m ready for the fallout. What will it be? That will be up to you, Ben.” She pushes me back with a wink and rises from the bed. Rounding me, she looks over her shoulder as she saunters toward the bathroom, looking like anything but the saint she claims to be. There may be a little sinner in her waiting for the devil in me to entice her to bite the apple, to show her a different side of this world that’s waiting to ravish her and twist her innocence in a vise.
“What will it be, Ben? Will you mess it up? Do you have any idea what dangerous waters you are putting us both in?” She pauses. “Guest bathroom is down the hall, towels are in there. See you soon.” With one last smirk, she disappears behind the door. The second it closes, I can take a deep breath. Every time I’m in her presence, she steals all the air from my lungs. I can only compare it to what I imagine drowning would be like.
As I walk to the bathroom down the hall, the insecure voices start thundering loudly in my head.
You’re no good for her.
You can’t settle.
You can’t be tied down by one woman.
You’re a monster. An anger-ridden disease, hooked on drugs. You’ll fucking destroy her.
Run.
The only man I have ever been speaks so loudly. But the man I want to be for her, the man I promised I would be for my mother and have failed time and time again to be, comes out of nowhere.
You could be good for her.
You can settle down.
She’s more than enough. She’s perfect. You could never get tired of her.
Maybe the monster can be captured by the saint. Maybe she can change you.
Stay.
Which voice do I pick? Which part of me do I go with? My brain telling me to run or my heart telling me to stay and find a light to shine into the cracks of my darkened soul?
The only certainty is that if I stick with my heart, Sadie has to know about my intermittent explosive disorder and the way cocaine affects my rage fighting—the terrible parts of me I can hide for only a short time.
How do I even fucking begin?