Chapter Thirty-One
Ava
I knew that he was worth taking a chance on the moment he made me cry, as strange as that sounded. I didn’t cry because I was upset about losing my parents, even though I missed them every day. I cried because it wasn’t until that moment that I realized how spectacularly my friends had let me down, how desperately I’d needed them that summer.
And they’d never come.
I told myself that they had good reasons—Jules and Gianna had both been traveling abroad that year, Viv interned at a major marketing firm in Indy, and Riley came up to visit once or twice but her job kept her in Bloomington. I told myself that it was okay, that I understood why they didn’t have time for me.
But I never let myself admit how much it hurt.
We drove into town and back, chit chatting about much lighter topics than losing parents and starting a relationship that could cost me my friends. The whole way, I kept looking at him, wondering what was wrong with him. Because, from where I was sitting, he seemed almost too perfect.
He finally noticed when we turned onto the road that led into the neighborhood around the lakes. “What?” he asked, cracking a goofy half-smile. “You keep looking at me funny.”
I grinned back. “I’m trying to figure out what your flaws are, because you’re being too nice to me.”
Ben laughed aloud at that, a sound that went straight to my chest and settled somewhere in the center of it. “Maybe I’m just a nice guy.”
My eyes narrowed, but my grin stayed put. “Maybe.”
We did exactly as he’d promised, snuggling on the couch, stuffing ourselves with sushi, and watching Hot Tub Time Machine . It was incredible.
By the time the movie ended and empty takeout boxes littered my coffee table, I really did feel like a weight had been lifted off me. I didn’t know what had put it there, but it felt incredible to have it gone.
“It’s your turn,” I told him, wedging myself even deeper into his lap.
“My turn?”
“To pick the movie.”
He inhaled, his features squeezing into the most adorable thinking face. “ America’s Sweethearts .”
“What?” I turned to face him. “Isn’t that a romcom?”
“And it’s fucking hilarious,” he scoffed. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”
“I’ve never seen it,” I admitted.
“Okay, well, we’re fixing that right now.” He grabbed the remote and pulled it up. “Basically every line in this movie is quotable.” He turned to me, his face dead serious. “Start memorizing. There will be a quiz later.”
I laughed, finally letting myself enjoy my time with Ben. The guilt wasn’t completely gone, but now that I knew what I wanted and had a plan, I felt a lot better. I hoped Jules would be understanding, because I really didn’t know what I would do if she flipped out.
I did genuinely enjoy the beginning of America’s Sweethearts . I probably would’ve enjoyed the end, too, if I’d managed to stay awake. But between the emotional rollercoaster I’d just ridden, the dim lighting, and the warmth of Ben’s arms I lost that battle before it began.
When I opened my eyes again, the credits rolled and Ben’s hooded gaze made my breath catch. Slowly, cautiously, his lips captured mine. Our first kiss took me hostage and lit an inferno inside me. This one felt different. Soft, romantic. It swept me away, taking my heart with it.
The kiss deepened, the pressure intensifying. His hands cupped my face. And I felt so connected to him that I struggled to remember what ‘alone’ had felt like all those years. If this was what it felt like to let someone in, maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t lose him, too.
His teeth scraped my lower lip gently as he pulled away. “You’re tired, I should go.”
“No, stay.” The words escaped before I thought them through. But I meant them. I couldn’t imagine him leaving right now; it felt so wrong. We danced around each other for weeks, pulled toward one another entirely against our wills. Maybe it was for a reason.
All I knew was that I felt safe, and loved, and complete–or whatever the opposite of lonely was. And I wasn’t ready to give that up just yet.
He pulled me back in for another kiss, and this one brought the heat. That same fire roared to life. This time, it wouldn’t stop until it devoured everything. Rough hands explored my body, running its length and lifting my Led Zeppelin t-shirt over my head. Then they picked me up and effortlessly placed me on his lap facing him.
I returned the deed in kind, unbuttoning his grey dress shirt, my mouth going dry as I bared his chiseled chest and abs. My fingers sprawled across the smooth skin. I had definitely made the right decision.
He buried his face in my neck, his lips blazing a trail to my collarbone. “You always smell like strawberries,” he whispered. “Strawberries are my favorite.”
Okay, well I was never, ever changing my sugar scrub if that was the reaction I got. But that gave me an idea. A very sweet, very naughty idea.
“Wait right there.” I stood and headed for the fridge, grabbing the container of fresh strawberries and the can of whipped cream. I’d planned to make strawberry shortcakes.
But this was better.
Ben’s mouth parted when he saw me coming back, his sapphire eyes burning. Without a word, he snatched the whipped cream as soon as I came within reach, firing off a sizable bite straight into his mouth.
“You’re gonna use it all up!” I protested, reaching for it.
He pulled it out of my reach, and all I got in response was the most gorgeous, boyish, mischievous smile. Then his gaze found the strawberries.
“Give me those, take off your clothes, and lay down.”
I narrowed my eyes at his bossy tone, but the fact that I couldn’t stop smiling ruined it. I did as he said, inhaling sharply as he placed a strawberry slice right in the middle of my stomach. And another between my breasts. A squeal of surprise escaped at the shock of cold when he squirted whipped cream on my nipples. An even louder one followed when he put a generous dollop between my legs.
“It’s coooold!” I yelped, wiggling.
A throaty laugh assured me he had things well in hand. And mouth.
When he licked the sweet treat off my breasts, it felt exhilarating. When he worked his way down further and started sucking, my back arched and my hips lifted off the couch. First the heat, then the pressure built in my core.
Then he stopped.
Before I could complain, he stood and grabbed a condom. My hands worked the button and zipper on his pants, getting them off him and out of the way. He climbed on top of me on the couch, and started things slow, just like before. If he was aiming to torture me, he succeeded.
A spiral of pleasure wove through me from where we were joined. My head spun. My heart pounded. All I wanted was more of Ben.
And he gave it to me.
His languorous movements gave way to passionate thrusts that left us both breathless and aching. Faster, harder. As I neared the top, I opened my eyes to look at him. Watching him pushed me over the edge, and he wasn’t far behind.
When it was over, his forehead dropped to rest on mine while we caught our breaths.
“I want this,” I told him, “but I don’t think we should see each other again until I talk to Jules. Because there’s no way I can keep my hands to myself after that.”
He brushed the hair off my face, placing a gentle kiss on my lips. “You’d better talk to her soon. Because there’s no way I can stay away from you after that.”
Pulling him close, I pushed aside the doubts that loomed about telling Jules.
Everything would be fine.