Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty Eight
Ben
By the time I finally click the deadbolt on the Pint, my hands are shaking from the kind of tired that settles in your bones and drags you down.
Once again, the bar smells like citrus; the floor still damp in spots where we mopped the moment the last-call stragglers were out the door.
Charlotte waved me off an hour ago, swore she’d finish the cash-out. I didn’t argue. I just needed to be somewhere that wasn’t loud.
Outside, Main is quiet with only a few wandering out and about. Sweet Confessions is dark next door, the bell silent, that front window finally black. Her light was on for a long time. She deserves to be horizontal and unconscious.
So do I.
Preparing to head home, the truck’s seat hits my back, and I exhale like I’ve been holding a weight to my chest since dawn. The engine turns, and I point the nose toward home and go.
When my tires crunch up my gravel, everything in me sighs in relief at the sight of my porch.
Then I see her.
She’s sitting on the steps, elbows on her knees, the porch light shining over the top of her head and catching the wisps that’ve fallen out of her ponytail. My heart does a stupid, hard kick. The relief is immediate and eclipsed by irritation so quickly that I don’t have time to digest it.
I kill the engine, step out. “Paige.” It comes out as a growl because I am absolutely not ready for the tight fear that flashes through me at the sight of her alone here, this late. “What are you doing?”
She stands. “I couldn’t rest.” She lifts a shoulder in a quick shrug. “Adrenaline. I went for a walk and found myself here.”
I scowl harder before I can stop it. “You were walking around by yourself at this hour?”
She blinks, then her chin lifts subtly. “In Paducah?” she says sarcastically.
“Yeah. In Paducah,” I snap, and the demanding note in my own voice makes me want to hit myself. “At 1:00 in the morning, where the tourists outnumber the locals right now and most of them are drunk. Get in the truck. I’m taking you home.”
Her eyes go narrow and hot. “I’m not a child, Ben.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You’re lecturing me like one.” Her hands go to her hips. “I’ve lived here my entire life. I know where to walk. I know what blocks to cut around and which to—”
“Know it all you want,” I cut in, too fast, too sharp. “Knowing doesn’t stop something from happening if it’s going to happen.”
She flinches like I slapped her. Then she nods, once, slow—more to herself than me. “Right,” she says, voice flat. “I shouldn’t have come.”
She starts down the walkway.
“Paige.” I hear the exasperation in my own voice and hate it. I scrub a hand over my face and try again, less cop, more human. “Hey. Wait.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll try not to die on the ten-minute walk home,” she throws over her shoulder.
“Paige, wait.” I walk after her and put a hand on her arm.
She stops and folds her arms across her chest like armor. “What?” she asks coldly.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and mean it. “That came out wrong. I’m just tired. And an idiot. Just—” I exhale. “Please let me drive you home. No lecture. Promise.”
She turns, studies me skeptically, like I might be lulling her into complacency. The porch light brings out the gold in her eyes, making them look bright, almost incandescent. “No lecture?”
“None.” I hold up a hand like I’m swearing in.
A long breath leaves her. She doesn’t move.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I’m just— Stuck on the part where you and I… and now there’s more than one thing to worry about.”
Her arms hug tighter. “Me being pregnant isn’t some hall pass to treat me like an idiot.”
“I know.” I nod. “You’re right. I don’t think you’re an idiot, Paige.” The sigh that comes out of me has the whole damn day in it. “Come sit for a minute, at least. You want water? I’ve got—” I search my memory. “I don’t know. Crackers, maybe?”
A small smile crosses her mouth. “You’re going to have to cool it with the crackers. You’re going to dehydrate me.”
I laugh. “I know, but I don’t really know what else to do. Feeding you crackers and ginger is all I’ve got.”
“I’ll take the water,” she says. “Hold the crackers and ginger.”
“I can do that,” I say. “Come on.”
I unlock the door, and she follows me in, the darkness of the house wrapping around us both. The old clock ticks from the living room, and I flick on the soft light above the kitchen. She hesitates on the far side of the counter like she’s not sure if it’s okay to be here.
I pour water, slide a glass to her. She takes it and drinks. I lean back against the counter and feel my shoulders twinge a little.
“How was the rest of the day?” I ask. “After I came in.”
“Busy,” she says. “Perfect. Chaos. We ran out of everything. Also, my face hurts from smiling.”
“I bet,” I say with my own smile.
She sets the glass down and meets my eyes. “Thanks for coming in and for the promo. It made a real difference.”
“It was a good idea.” I tap my fingers on the counter. “You did great today.”
“I did, didn’t I?” A genuine smile crosses her face. “I haven’t really had a second to let any of it in or think too much about it. But it’s real. My shop. All of it. And it was amazing.”
Her eyes shine, and she’s closer now, both of us having moved without me realizing it.
I should take her home. I should walk her out, put her in the truck, drop her at her door, see the porch light snap on behind her, drive away, and take a cold shower.
“You really did it,” I say quietly.
“People kept saying congratulations,” she says, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her eyes. “And I kept thinking, for what? And then I’d look around and remember—oh right, for this. For all of it. I did this.”
“Come. Sit for a bit,” I say and lift a brow before she can refuse. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Five minutes,” she says, and we both know it’s a lie.
We walk to the living room and stand in front of the couch, but neither of us sits.
She licks her lips, and I’m so close, I see every movement.
I should take her home.
Instead, my hand lifts on its own. I skim my knuckles along her cheekbone. Her eyelids flutter, and that’s all it takes for my self-control to wobble on its axis.
She tips her chin up. Our mouths are a breath apart.
Her fingers catch the hem of my T-shirt like she needs to hold onto me.
It takes exactly no effort for my hands to cup her face. My lips brush hers, once, twice.
She sighs against me.
I kiss her, soft, slow, until she shivers and her mouth opens under mine.
The way we fit together has never been the problem.
We meet in the middle, and my hand slides down the side of her neck.
My thumb traces her jaw.
I should stop, but I don't.
Because it's Paige, and we're good together, and even though the future's a question mark, kissing her feels like the only certain thing in my life.
Her arms wind around my neck. Her body melts against mine. She smells like the shower she took after work and tastes like sweet vanilla.
Her teeth nip at my bottom lip, and a groan leaves me, the sound raw with desire.
But she must like it, because her body arches up and into mine, and my control slips.
My hand drops to her waist, finds the bare skin above her jeans, and her skin is soft, warm. She shivers as my palm strokes up her ribs. My fingers trace her spine, and I pull her against me.
Her nails graze the nape of my neck. She lets out a breath, and I can't remember a sound that has ever turned me on so fast.
I kiss her deeper, and the way she moves her body against mine, I know she wants this, too.
Like maybe we could figure it out.
My fingers slide beneath the hem of her sweater.
Her skin is warm and smooth and perfect.
I stroke my thumb along her ribcage. Her breathing changes, and my whole body tightens.
I'm hard and desperate, and all I want is to pick her up, carry her back to the bedroom, and show her all the things I've imagined doing to her since the last time.
I drop my lips to her neck, press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone.
She inhales sharply and pulls back.
I open my eyes.
Her gaze is hooded and dark, and her mouth is pink and swollen.
God, she's beautiful.
I press my lips to hers again, and she welcomes me. My heart rate picks up. I need her like I haven't needed anyone.
The way she kisses me is hungry. Like she's starved for this. Like we've both been starving.
It's everything.
"Ben," she breathes.
I swallow her sigh. "I want you."
"Yes," she whispers. "God, yes."
There's a moment of hesitation.
My hand slides down her spine and finds the small of her back.
Her hands clench in the fabric of my shirt.
Then she releases, and her fingers tug the hem out of my jeans.
I pull back, catch her wrist, and meet her eyes.
They're wide, dark, and full of want.
"Are you sure?" I ask.
"Yes." She leans forward and presses her lips to the base of my throat. Her tongue sweeps a path up the column of my neck. "Yes," she moans.
The heat in my veins blazes into fire.
She kisses me and slides her hands over my shoulders.
I grip under her thighs and lift her. She laughs and wraps her legs around my hips.
"I love that," she whispers.
I carry her and pin her against the wall.
She moans into my mouth and grinds her hips against my hard cock.
I crush my lips to her, and she arches against me, her body so responsive and perfect.
She tugs my shirt over my head, and I do the same to hers.
Her bra is black lace, and her nipples are tight.
"Fuck," I groan. "I want you so much, Paige."
"Have me," she says and kisses me.
This time, her tongue thrusts into my mouth, and it drives me wild.
I take my lips down to her throat.
"Bed this time," I murmur against her skin.
I hitch her higher, making her gasp, and take the stairs carefully.
It's a miracle we make it without falling. My bedroom door bangs open, and I cross the room.