Chapter 7 Sophie #3
Benny shoots me a glance. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass him. If he’s embarrassed, that’s his problem. I was just saying I’m not the only single guy here. There’s plenty of opportunities to explore if he wants to.”
I huff out an aggravated breath. “Maybe he doesn’t want to,” I defend.
Benny chuckles. “Trust me, Soph. He wants to. He’s wanted to for years, he’s just scared to pull the trigger.”
“Maybe he’s waiting for the right person,” I say, feeling more on the spot than ever. Benny presses the button for the elevators, standing by my side, not looking at me or giving any indication he heard me.
But I know he did.
The numbered lights blink, slowly counting down to our floor.
“Are you listening to me?” I ask as the elevator doors open.
Thankfully it’s empty, so when we get on, we fit with all our luggage.
But as Benny shifts next to me, crowding my space with his lumbering presence, sinful scent, and some strange air I can’t explain, I growl in frustration. “Benny, I said—”
Benny carefully, calmly turns his head toward me. “I can hear you just fine,” he says, and I hate how smooth his voice sounds, how even now in this space, it makes my insides heat. How his vicious stare makes parts of me I thought I’d buried come alive.
Bad idea, Soph. Really bad idea.
Worse than kissing Elijah.
“Then say something!” I say as the elevator dings, opening the doors onto our floor.
Benny smirks at me. “You aren’t the boss of me, princess. You need to remember that.”
He walks out of the elevator, leaving me more frustrated than ever. Seriously, if I was a cartoon, my head would be spouting steam and my eyes would be doing the bug out of my skull thing. The nerve of this man.
“Well, if you want to be like that, then maybe I’ll just go stay with the virgin since you don’t seem to be all that worried about him.”
That stops him in his tracks.
He turns to look at me, staring at me like he wants to truly murder me.
And then he takes two steps toward me. We’ve got a whole hallway, but he might as well have me up against a metaphorical wall with the heat in his gaze, the tension in his jaw.
“I wasn’t trying to be a dick,” he says, his voice low.
“I was just telling him it’s okay to want other women.
” His gaze dips to my mouth, where it hovers for a second longer than I know it should.
I’m suddenly acutely aware of how close he actually is.
How big he is. So much bigger than I remember.
I don’t miss the implication, the words between his words. He was telling Matthew it was okay to want women other than me.
Which means two things.
One—Benny knows how Matthew feels about me, or has felt about me.
Two—it’s possible Matt still feels this way, and the woman he’s resigned himself to waiting for is me.
And I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“Like you, you mean?” I say, my voice darker than it should be.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying, you seem to have a lot of experience in that department, right?”
I watch the flames in Benny’s eyes flicker as his jaw tenses, as his gaze drifts back to my mouth.
“You slut-shaming me, Sophie?” His smirk is the only indication of humor because his voice is dark and smooth and his stare is so heated I think a fire’s started inside of me.
My thighs are warm and slick, and I know it’s not entirely from the heat outside.
“If the tuxedo fits,” I say with a grin.
He chuckles as he leans in closer. “Well, don’t worry,” he says, hovering with his lips right up next to my ear. “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
I can’t help but close my eyes as I feel the heat of his breath on my skin.
“Come, Sophie,” he says suddenly, his voice dark and smooth and hitting me in all the right places. For a moment, I can almost pretend we’re not in public.
And then I remember we are—in public.
My eyes open wide, and I look around, worried we’ve been seen, caught. The last thing I need is my mother or one of the bridesmaids catching us like this. After all, they don’t know the truth, and neither does Benny. Which pulls me back to the here and now.
I say nothing as he turns around, leading me down the hall to his room. Our room.
My room for the night, anyway.
When he swipes his card and opens the door, he waves me in first. “After you, princess.”
I fight the urge to look at him as I enter, immediately freezing in place as I set my sight on the one bed.
Just…one.
“Did you book double beds, by chance?” I ask shakily.
“Huh?” The door shuts and then I feel him come up behind me, his body heat invading my space. “Yeah, I did, actually,” he says. “It was standard for the room block…”
I let out a heavy sigh as my gaze focuses on the large bed, on the crisp white sheets.
“I’ll call the front desk,” he says. “Maybe there was a mix-up. I mean, there was a lot going on when we checked in, so…”
I nod. “Right, good idea,” I say as he pulls out his phone.
I steal a glance at him as he stares down at it, no doubt searching for the number to the front desk.
Sunlight pours through the windows, lighting up his large, dark figure.
He’s dressed head to toe in black. A black, tight-fitted T-shirt that shows off his biceps and tattoos, black jeans, and black boots.
His brown hair catches the light, illuminating strands of copper in his otherwise dark hair.
He was always dark and mysterious, maybe even a little bitter. But now…
Now he looks like something straight out of a romance novel, in the best way. He’s hot as hell and I can’t stop staring at him.
He looks up, catching me, and I know I should look away, but I can’t. Instead, I watch as he lifts the phone to his ear.
“Hey, this is Benjamin Anderson in room 4022,” he says. “I think there’s been a mistake, I booked a double bed which was standard in the hotel block for the Martin-Little wedding this weekend and there’s only one bed. Looks like a King.”
He paces back and forth and I finally remember how to move my legs, so I head for the bed to sit down. The bed itself is soft and plush and feels too good to resist, and I fall back easily as Benny “uh-huhs” in the background, each one getting progressively louder and dare I say, angrier?
“Are you serious right now?” he bites out, and I push myself up on my elbows, my eyebrows furrowing as I stare at him.
“What? What’s wrong?”
He looks to me, holding the phone with his palm as he says, “They’re booked. Can’t swap rooms. Best they can do is a cot.”
A cot? Seriously?
He must sense my disdain, or my expression is more telling than it should be, because he says into the phone, “No, that’s fine. Just send it up. Yeah, thanks, we’ll be here.”
I groan as I fall back onto the bed, covering my eyes with my hands. A moment later, I feel the mattress sink, dipping from his weight as his leg brushes against mine.
“Did I step on a crack or something? This has been the worst week ever,” I complain.
I stare up at the ceiling, because I can’t look at Benny right now. I can feel the heaviness of his leg pressed against mine, and I know if I look up at him—looking down at me—I’ll be tempted to fall back into old fantasies that will not help matters right now.
So I don’t look at him. I continue to look at the ceiling like the lines in the paint will have the answers I seek. Spoiler alert, they doesn’t.
“It’s fine. You can have the bed, I’ll take the cot,” he says, and his voice is strangely soft.
“No…” I say, pushing myself up, failing to resist the urge. “No, it’s your hotel room, you should have the bed.” I look at him, noting the almost soft expression on his face.
“Yeah, but…” He runs a tattooed hand through his hair sheepishly.
Whatever he was going to say, I think he forgot, because he doesn’t say anything, just stares at me, letting that sapphire gaze fall to my lips, and shifts his body against mine like a hot fire.
“Not negotiable,” he says, his voice now stronger. Bolder. More stern and commanding.
Something inside me switches on, like I’ve been in the dark and suddenly my world is full of light. I open my mouth to speak, but he holds one long, thick, tattooed finger to my lips and everything stops.
His gaze falls to where the pad of his finger touches my lips, and instinctively, I lick my lips, or rather the edge of his finger. He tastes salty and sweaty, and my insides tighten with a desire I’ve never felt before, even in all the times I’ve touched myself to the thought of this man.
This man who fed my sexual awakening and has brought me more orgasms than he’ll ever know, who is sitting next to me on this bed. Who will be five feet away on a cot.
“I said, not negotiable. You will do as I say, and you will not argue,” he says. “Now zip it, and get some sleep.”
I open my mouth and his finger travels to my chin, his hand grasping it gently, forcing me to look at him.
“I know you want to listen, Sophie. You want to obey so fucking bad,” he whispers, and I think it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. I swallow hard, unable to take my eyes off of him, unable to move.
Before I can answer, before I can throw away my last functioning brain cell, there’s a knock on the door. The spell between us disappears like the tide, as if it never existed at all.
I say nothing as Benny gets up, the bed springing back to its soft form, the air somehow colder now that he’s stepped away. I fall back into the bed with ease, close my eyes, and do as he says, because suddenly I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.
The last thing I remember as the door shuts is Benny’s dark, smooth voice whispering in my ear.
“Good girl.”