15. Carlisle
15
Carlisle
I ’m embarrassed that Ben witnessed the aftermath of my breakdown yesterday. Ben swooped into my life last night to rescue me—when I was looking my worst and feeling my lowest. Then, when I thought it was impossible to feel any more vulnerable, I find out that Ben had a private investigator conduct a background check on me.
He’s been privy to the personal details of my life this whole time.
Heat floods my cheeks as my vulnerability gives way to rage.
I can’t believe Ben would do something so invasive. I can’t believe I made the mistake of trusting him.
When will I ever stop putting my trust in the wrong men?
Ben tugs me to a stop before I can escape upstairs. A surge of fortitude flows through me. Throwing back my shoulders and straightening my spine, I refuse to back down and play the victim any longer.
Ben and I stand at the foot of the stairs, locked in a mutinous staring contest, when we’re interrupted by a woman who steps out of the kitchen and approaches us. She sticks her hand out towards mine, breaking up the sparring match between Ben and me.
“Hi, I’m Joanna, Ben’s personal assistant and friend. It’s nice to meet you, Carlisle. ”
Begrudgingly, I grasp her hand and give it two quick pumps before dropping it. Something about her name rings a bell. “Wait, are you the Joanna who had Ben call the phone sex hotline as a joke?”
Smiling smugly, she replies, “That was one of my better pranks.” Then she gets down to business. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase. Dating Ben is different—”
Ben interrupts her. “Jo, now isn’t the time for this.”
Joanna holds up her hand and shoots him a hard stare, shutting him down. “As I was saying, he didn’t request the background check. I did, and I promised not to tell him anything in the report unless there was something to suggest that you weren’t being truthful.” She talks with her hands as much as with her mouth and I find myself engrossed by watching her wild gestures. “In this town, it’s way too easy to get manipulated or taken advantage of. Ben’s one of the good guys, and I didn’t want to see him get hurt. Plus, he’s my boss and I’m paid to protect his brand.” She uses finger quotes around the last word while rolling her eyes. “So, if you’re mad, be mad at me, not him, Carlisle.”
“Thank you for explaining.” I feel guilty that I jumped to conclusions, and I tell them as much.
Ben reassures me further. “While I agreed to the background check, I did so reluctantly. I enjoyed getting to know you organically through our conversations. I’m sorry that you found out about this the way that you did, especially after everything that happened yesterday. Forgive me?”
When I sheepishly nod, Ben pulls me into his chest, cradling me in his arms. His very bare and very muscular chest.
Why does Ben have to be so nice and hot as hell? It’s hard to keep my head on straight when I’m around him. It’s like his presence sucks out all the oxygen from the room, leaving me light-headed and dizzy and brainless .
And horny.
Trying to come up with something to say to fill the void before it becomes awkward, I say the first thing that jumps into my mind. “Why are you cooking breakfast while only wearing sweatpants?”
He quirks one eyebrow, obviously surprised at my abrupt change of subject. “It’s my house. I can wear, or not wear, whatever I want.”
“But what if the bacon splatters and you get burned on your chest?” I ask. It would be a shame to mar such a perfect body.
Joanna barks out a loud laugh. “Pretty Boy doesn’t eat bacon. Too high in fat and cholesterol.”
My southern roots must be showing when I stare at him in horror. “Good God, Ben. That’s no way to live!”
“That’s what I always tell him.” Jo agrees, grinning widely.
Ben rolls his eyes. “Christ, are you two going to gang up on me now?” Looking pointedly at Jo, Ben urges, “Don’t you have some work to do?”
“Yes, Your Royal Highness,” Jo replies sarcastically with a curtsy.
Ignoring Jo’s antics, Ben slides his hand in mine and tugs me into the kitchen, telling me to sit down on one of the barstools lining the island. “I had Jo grab a bunch of different types of coffee drinks. Help yourself while I finish breakfast. Assuming I didn’t burn the vegetables, that is.”
“Vegetables, besides potatoes, have no place at the breakfast table,” I kid.
Chuckling, Jo walks to the patio doors that lead out to the pool house. Prior to shutting the door, she sticks her head back in the house to holler, “I like her, Ben. Don’t screw it up.”
Ben flips her off and I hear Jo laugh. They definitely have an unusual boss-employee relationship, but I enjoy their light-hearted banter .
Pointing at me with the spatula, Ben says, “About the vegetables, withhold your judgment until you try it, okay?”
“I’ll try my best.” As much as I love to cook, it’s a nice change of pace to have someone cook for me. Ben has an air of confidence in the kitchen, and I happily watch him as he works.
Especially since he’s still not wearing a shirt. Who knew back muscles could ripple like that?
I’m impressed at how deftly he slides the perfect omelet onto a platter and hands me a plate and fork. He places a hefty serving onto my plate and encourages me to eat. I try to stifle my moan when the first bite hits my taste buds. It’s freaking delicious. Realizing I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday, I gobble it up, bite after bite, until it’s all gone.
Noting my empty plate, Ben winks and asks, “Care to rethink your stance on vegetables at breakfast?”
“You may be onto something here. That was incredible. Thank you.”
Ben picks up our empty plates and places them in the sink. I hop up to help him wash the dishes. Since he cooked, it’s fair that I clean, but he tells me to sit back down and relax. I’m not accustomed to someone taking care of me like he is.
After drying his hands off on a kitchen towel, Ben circles the kitchen island. Approaching my chair, he places his hands on my shoulders and gazes directly into my eyes. His eyes are the brightest hazel-green, like that of a freshly watered golf course surrounded by rings of umber, gold, and gray. Although they sparkle in the bright lights of the kitchen, I detect worry and concern within them.
“It’s still early. Have you decided what you’re going to do today? About your job?” His jaw ticks repeatedly, betraying the tension underlying his questions .
Startled, I remain silent for a few beats. From what I witnessed last night when Ben stormed into my apartment, I assumed that he’d pull the alpha male card and demand that I quit my job. I appreciate that Ben respects me enough to let it be my decision.
“I’m not going back. I can’t. I can’t go back to work at that place knowing that something like that will happen again. Only next time, it would likely be worse.”
The clenching of his jaw ceases. “Thank fuck. I was not looking forward to having to accompany you and sit with you in your cubicle until I could hire a bodyguard to escort you.” Flashing me a grin to lighten the mood, Ben jokes, “Fluorescent lighting does nothing for my complexion.”
“No need to go to those extremes yet.” But then a worrying thought pops into my head. “However, I don’t want you to think that… that I expect you to…” Good lord, I feel like Joanna, wildly waving my arms around in the air as I try to explain my thoughts to Ben without sounding presumptuous. “I don’t want you to think I’m looking for a handout or expect financial help or anything.”
“I know you aren’t, Carlisle. I also know you wouldn’t accept a handout if I offered you one.” Moving his hands from my shoulders to my cheeks, he cradles my face, slowly caressing my cheeks with his thumbs. “From our conversations about your dad, I understand how important it is for you to be independent.”
Sitting there gazing up at him, I enjoy the feeling of his hands on me. We haven’t kissed since those two glorious, earth-shattering kisses last night in my condo, and anxiety begins to seep into my veins.
Ben has dated movie stars and supermodels, women who are talented, successful, and breathtakingly beautiful. And who have their lives together.
How will I ever measure up to them ?
Last night, I had so many other things running through my mind, I didn’t have any mental energy left to waste comparing myself to Ben’s past lovers, but this morning, I do.
Insecurities flood my brain.
Tapping my forehead gently, Ben murmurs, “Stop. You’re getting inside your head. Stay here with me in this moment, Carlisle.”
How can he read me so easily? It would be amazing if it didn’t scare the bejesus out of me.
But as he lowers his mouth to mine, my intrusive thoughts flee as I focus on Ben and how he makes me feel. His touch is like electricity, jumpstarting my heart and my libido, in a way that I didn’t know possible.
His firm lips work mine into submission while his hands caress my face and neck. I trail my hands up his washboard abs, reveling in the feel of his sculpted muscles under my fingertips. His kiss makes me heady with desire, and I’m quickly craving more than just a kiss.
A small mewl escapes from me as he moves his lips from my mouth to my neck, licking and kissing his way down the column of my neck to my collarbone. The feel of Ben’s soft lips and rough scruff against my sensitive skin has me humming with pleasure. When he finally breaks contact, we’re both breathing heavily.
He kisses my temple chastely and steps back. Reading the disappointment on my features, he smirks. “There will be plenty more time for that later, babe.” Giving me one more kiss, he whispers, “Promise.”