CHAPTER 22
HOLLY
Ben: Official Post-Date Survey. Did you: A) Have a fantastic time with your charming date, B) Have an amazing evening with the funniest man you know, or C) Have a glorious night with a sexy weirdo?
Holly: D) All of the above.
“Okay, I admit it. Having two ovens does make this a little bit easier.”
“A little bit?” Ben doesn’t even try to hide his smirk, so I pinch his side as I pass by.
“Okay. A lot a bit.”
We’re working together in Ben’s townhouse, which I’m visiting for the first time. While nowhere near as large and upscale as his parents’ place, this house still sits in an entirely different class than my apartment. Apparently, Sammy’s parents own the townhouse and charge Ben and Jasper a pittance of rent.
The place oozes charm with its redbrick exterior and dark wooden floor. Black marble counters hold a spread of stainless steel appliances. It wasn’t until I opened the fridge and saw a whole shelf devoted to beer that I accepted three college guys lived here.
Not that Ben gets to drink any of it.
When he invited me to do my weekly food prep at his place, I grabbed at the chance to be nosy. Even though I accepted because I wanted to see where he lived, I’m reaping some additional benefits. My Sunday cooking normally takes up an entire afternoon, but with Ben and his beautiful kitchen helping, we’re looking at just about two hours of work.
So, yeah, I like the kitchen.
“Why would Sammy’s parents let you live here for next to nothing? They could make a killing on this place by actually charging rent.”
Ben shrugs. “I think they plan on selling the house when we move out. And it wasn’t this nice when they bought it. The last owner let it go to sh—” Ben stops talking abruptly and clears his throat. “Let it go to crap.”
I notice his stumble and correction, and my heart lightens. To thank him, I lean over to press a kiss on his shoulder and then rub my nose against the soft flannel shirt he’s wearing.
In return, he kisses me on the forehead before continuing, “So, I think they got it at a decent price and then spent some money to fix it up. They don’t need the cash from selling it though. I think they just like having a project. The Ches are both pretty handy. They did a lot of the work themselves. Along with Sammy.” Ben picks up his cutting board and walks over to the stovetop to dump all the diced vegetables into a waiting pot. The hot olive oil already in the pan sizzles at the contact. After quickly washing his hands, Ben grabs a wooden spoon to stir the contents.
I admire his culinary skills out of the corner of my eye as I tear up kale leaves and toss them in a colander. “Still, it’s nice of them.”
Once he sets his spoon down, Ben moves behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. I know I’m grinning like a loon. His hugs are just that great.
“There’s something else. We don’t really talk about it though.” His tone gets serious, so I set aside my lustful thoughts and listen in. For a moment, we stay quiet together. Only when I’m dying to ask does he finally share. “They want to control Sammy as much as they can.”
“Really? Is he out of control or something?”
The brief interactions I’ve had with Ben’s friend made the guy seem like an overworked stress ball who ruled the dance floor after a drink or two. Not necessarily someone I’d consider out of control. Pent-up is more like it.
“By their standards, I guess. They wanted him to go to medical school. Planned for it his whole life. But Sammy told me, the first time he observed a surgery, the minute they cut into the patient, he puked and then passed out.”
My snort escapes unbidden, but I bite my lip and shake my head, trying to convince myself that the image of Sammy fainting into some med student’s waiting arms isn’t hilarious. Who am I to judge? One needle stick, and I’m in for the same fate.
Then, Ben chuckles, and I not only hear it, but I also feel his chest vibrate against my back.
My mind disregards images of Sammy and starts making up fantasies of Ben sliding his hands lower than my belly.
“Yeah, so, after that, he switched to pre-law. Even though it stresses him out like crazy, that’s where he belongs. He loves it. He can’t wait to be a lawyer.”
“And what about you?”
“Me?”
“Are you excited about becoming a lawyer?”
We haven’t really discussed Ben’s major since the day he first showed me his tattoos. Bravo on his part for finding exactly how to distract me. Even now, my body yells at my brain to shut up, turn around, and rip his shirt off.
But that’s what you do when you’re hooking up. Not when you want to get to know someone.
“Sure.” He retreats, unwrapping his arms from my waist.
The loss of his warmth is like stepping out of a hot shower and straight onto ice-cold tiles.
“You know, we’ve been friends slash ‘more’”—I air-quote around the word before returning to my salad making—“for over two months now. We’ve talked about your art and tattoos plenty of times. But you’ve only ever talked about being a lawyer once.”
Turning around to wipe my hands on a towel, I find Ben pouring broth into the soup pot, his shoulders tense.
“So?”
Trying to keep the conversation light, I reach for the croutons instead of making him look me in the eye like I want him to. “Why is that?”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know what you’re trying to lead me toward, Holly. Yeah, I find art more interesting than law. But I’m still going to be a lawyer. Work at my parents’ firm. It’s a good, stable job.” When he says the word stable, there’s extra emphasis.
I don’t get why he’s so worried about having a stable job.
And what’s wrong with pursuing a career that’s more about passion than money?
Even though I want to keep digging, I get the sense that, if I try, we might get into a fight. When I first walked in the door, Ben was smiling and relaxed. Now, his lips are pinched tight, and he’s not looking at me.
I don’t want to argue with him, especially not when he’s in the middle of helping me cook all my meals.
Once the salad is done, I store it in the fridge and then turn to watch Ben stir the soup. He’s still tense, so I move behind him and place my hands on his hips. Slowly, I slide my fingers forward until they meet on his belly. I rub my nose on his soft shirt again before peppering a couple of kisses on his spine.
“Thank you for helping.”
The muscles on his abdomen twitch as I lightly run my fingers up to his chest and then down to his waistband.
“Anytime.” There’s a choked quality to his response, and I smile in satisfaction, knowing he’s just as affected by the touching as I am. He clears his throat once, twice, and a third time before speaking again, “Happy to help.”
“Mmm.” The hum comes deep from my chest, brought on by the delicious smells and the warm man in my arms. “Anything I can help you with?” My hands continue to wander.
Ben gets tense again, but this time, I doubt it’s because he’s upset.
“Holly …” His voice is low and growly.
Shivers scatter over me, and I press in closer. “Mmhmm?”
Beneath my arms, his chest expands on a deep breath. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna burn the soup.”
With my face pressed into his back, Ben can’t see how wicked my grin is.
“Oh. Sorry. Am I distracting you?”
He huffs out a laugh before grabbing one of my hands and pulling it to his mouth for a swift kiss.
When he lets go, I back away but not before giving his round butt a squeeze.
I have to finish cooking, sporting a partial. Not that Holly seems to mind. She keeps giving me looks that make the blood pound in my ears before traveling south.
With the two of us working and my two ovens steadily chugging along, we speed through her list of meals. We even put together an extra lasagna for Jasper and Sammy, just in case they show up before Holly heads out with all her food.
I stack the last individual serving in the freezer as she fills up the dishwasher. This is all so domestic.
I love it.
I want Holly here all the time. We work well together, evenly dividing up tasks, joking and talking the whole time. The fact that she’ll be heading back to her own apartment later casts a dim light over the rest of my night. Life is brighter when she’s around.
“I can’t believe how fast that went.” Holly dries her hands on a dish towel before hanging it on the oven handle. “We have so much free time now!” She throws her arms in the air and spins around, her socks and the hardwood floor making the action smooth, like a dancer.
Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I laugh at her antics.
She slides up to me, letting her arms fall, and grabs my hands. “Come on. I’ve only seen your kitchen. Show me the rest of your house.”
The rest of the house. Like my bedroom.
I breathe in deep and try to clear my brain of all its X-rated ideas and instead act like a civilized host. “Yeah, sure.”
We start in the living room where a decent-sized TV acts as the focal point with two couches and a lounge chair facing the screen. Jasper’s gaming systems are tucked inside the entertainment center, less because of a propensity for neatness and more because he’d turn into a full-on rage monster if someone accidentally broke one.
“This is where we hang out and do manly things, like play video games and watch action movies.”
“Ah, yes. It’s a very manly room.” Humor flits through her eyes.
I lean down to brush my lips against hers. She tastes sweet, like a spoonful of warm honey. When I break away, her cheeks carry an enticing flush, and she smiles in a way that makes my cock twitch.
Trying to keep myself under control, I continue our tour instead of dragging her down onto the closest couch. The sitting room and the kitchen with its little dining area take up the entire first floor, so we head upstairs.
“On the left here is Jasper’s room. On the right is the bathroom.” I open the door to show her but leave Jasper’s closed, trying to respect his privacy. “At the end of the hall is me. Sammy has the whole upstairs.”
While I guide her along, Holly peers around, gaze wide and curious.
Trying not to be presumptuous, I turn back toward the stairs. “So, yeah, that’s everything.”
“Wait a minute.” When I glance back, she’s already halfway down the hall. “I want to see your room.”
Hell. This will be … torture.
I follow her, unsure if the churning under my rib cage is from anticipation or dread. After weeks of stroking myself to thoughts of Holly, she’s going to be standing next to my bed—a piece of furniture that plays a supporting role in many of my fantasies.
I catch up before she opens the door. While pushing it open, she throws a wink over her shoulder. “Time to find out about the real Ben.”
The shades are drawn, and when she flicks the light switch, only the overhead fan turns on.
“Here. It’s this one.” I slide past her and click on my bedside lamp.
The warm light from the bulb makes her skin glow golden. As she takes in my room, I watch her. I already know what she’s seeing—books piled everywhere, my two bookshelves completely full, a desk with my laptop, and a few textbooks I don’t spend enough time reading. Then, on the walls, I’ve pinned up some drawings I particularly like. My room isn’t dirty, but it’s not really tidy either.
Holly wanders around, running her fingers over the spines of my books, stopping at a few pictures to examine them closer. All the while, her mouth has an enticing upward tilt. I move back to lean on the doorframe, giving her every inch of the space to explore. With my arms crossed over my chest, I think I can keep my hands to myself.
“I like it. This is a very Ben room.”
“Glad you think so. What with it being mine and all.”
She sticks her tongue out at me. When the little pink tip disappears behind her lips, she watches me, as if she knows what I have the sudden, undeniable urge to do.
Why fight it?
With a hard shove, the door shuts, and in three steps, I’m in front of her. I cup the back of her head, dropping mine to her level so that I can taste her sugary mouth. Kissing her in my bedroom is not a good move if we want to take things slow, but the logical part of my brain takes a vacation when Holly gives me a push.
The backs of my knees connect with my bed, and I bounce as I half-fall, half-sit. At first, I chuckle, finding her playfulness funny.
Then, she straddles my lap, and my laughter turns into a moan. Now the one in charge, she presses her eager mouth against mine. One arm wraps around the back of my neck while her other hand rakes over my scalp and tangles in my hair. With one rolling movement of her hips, Holly presses her hot core into my groin, and I get a straight shot of pleasure up my spine.
I need more.
My hands come into play, wrapping around Holly, pulling her flush against me. Her every curve pushes tight to my chest, and my memory returns the image of her naked breasts. When I groan, it mixes with a happy sigh of hers, and she gives another mind-numbing roll of her hips.
“Holly!” I choke out her name, not sure if I’m scolding her or begging her.
With a last swipe of her tongue and nip to my bottom lip, Holly leans back, so I can see her devious grin. “Ben, I just want to say thank you for helping me today.”
Another rocking of her hips has me growling with my eyes closed. She moves again, but this time, her hips don’t push forward, instead sliding backward.
I tighten my arms, not ready to give up the sensation of her soft body against mine even if I should. If anything has felt better than this, us wrapped around each other, I can’t remember it. With every other girl I’ve been with, touching has felt good, sometimes great. But, with Holly, it’s like I’m missing something when she’s not in my arms.
She belongs here.
A throaty chuckle and a hand firmly massaging my groin have me bucking so hard that the springs in my bed start squeaking.
When I meet Holly’s gaze, she raises one eyebrow. “I want to thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” My voice comes out choked, as if someone had their hands wrapped around my throat.
In reality, she’s got a grip on something a bit more precious.
Holly shakes her head, still smiling. “No. I haven’t thanked you yet. Let me go.”
Unable to deny her anything, I let my arms fall to my sides.
She doesn’t stand up, but instead, she slides to the ground, kneeling in front of me. Her hands push my knees open, so she can move in closer.
My mind is in a fucking uproar, and my dick wants me to beg her to keep the promise that’s in her eyes as she stares up at me.
But I’m not an animal, so I let my heart take one last precaution. “Holly, you don’t have to—”
“Ben”—she reaches out to give me another firm massage through my jeans, effectively cutting off my statement as I groan even louder—“I want to.” She hooks a thumb around the button at the top of my pants but pauses. “Do you want me to?” She watches for my answer.
“Hell yes!” The words come out strangled and too loud, but she just gives me her sassy smile.
Then, with quick fingers, Holly undoes my fly. My cock springs free. She licks her bottom lip, and I know I’ll be lucky if I last more than a minute.
At her gentle grip, I jerk involuntarily. A bead of pre-cum seeps out, and she uses her thumb to spread the moisture, caressing the sensitive crown and daring my heart to beat faster.
My brain cranks up to feverish levels. I think I’m going to have an aneurysm from the slow, deliberate way she’s playing with me.
The temperature spikes when she drags her tongue from base to tip and then sucks on me like I’m a decadent dessert. I can’t look anywhere but at her or think of anything other than the feel of her hot, wet mouth on me.
She draws me in as deep as she can, using her firm hold to make up for the distance. After experimenting with different movements, Holly settles on the perfect rhythm.
The sight of her pink lips wrapped around my dick is so sexy; it doesn’t seem real. I reach out, gathering her silky chestnut hair into my fist, keeping it out of her way but also giving me something to hold on to, something other than her addictively skilled mouth, to let me know that this isn’t all in my head. We’re in the real world, and Holly Foster has me in her mouth.
I’m the one she wants, the one she’s gazing at with all that hunger.
It’s like we’re back before I got sick. I’m healthy and strong and someone to be desired.
Her strokes push me closer and closer to the edge.
It’s all I can do not to thrust into her like a savage.
There’s a pressure at the base of my cock, and I know I’m about to come.
“Holly—hell—I’m gonna—”
She doesn’t listen. Instead, her eyes lock on mine and hold as she goes as far down as her mouth will allow. So far that I brush against the back of her throat.
I’m so close.
Slowly, she drags her lips up my length and then swirls her tongue around my tip while her free hand cups my balls and gives them a gentle tug. That last bit of handling does it.
I explode. A shout rips from my throat as my whole body clenches and pulses. I curl upward as the pleasure rolls through my muscles in waves. Then, I fall back on the bed, all strength gone from my limbs. It spills out of me, into Holly’s mouth. And, holy hell, she drinks it down.
I might have killed him.
“Ben? You okay up there?”
“Mmhmm.”
I snicker at his dazed moan and then crawl up next to him on the bed. He turns his head to look at me, and I love the hazy expression on his face. Obviously, I haven’t lost my fellatio skills.
“So, it was a bit of a drawn-out thank-you. But I thought you’d appreciate it.” I want to kiss him, but some guys are weird about that right after a blow job. Instead, I press my lips against his neck.
“Mmm … Holly …”
“Oh, good. You haven’t lost all brain function.”
“You’re amazing.”
“Yep. You’re definitely still sane.”
Without warning, Ben rolls over on top of me, capturing my mouth and having his way with it. As our tongues tangle together, my cheeks grow tingly and warm.
A lot of guys get off and get out. Not that I’ve minded in the past, seeing as how I usually make sure to get off before them and I’m getting out at the same time.
But, this time, all I thought about was Ben and how I could drive him crazy.
After making sure I’m thoroughly kissed, he pulls back to stare down at me, wearing a naughty grin. “Your turn.”
“What?”
I watch him stand and tuck himself back into his pants. Then, with a swift movement, Ben grabs one of my ankles and drags me to the edge of the bed as I squeak in surprise. One of my socks gets tugged off and then the second. His fingers slide into the waistband of my leggings, but he pauses, eyes locked on mine.
“Say the word.”
Someone knows that consent is sexy, and it heats my lower belly in a delicious way.
“Go for it.”
That’s all he needs. My leggings get tossed to the other side of the room. He takes a moment to run his fingers over my lacy boy shorts but then sends those flying next.
I don’t tend to be shy during sex, but I also don’t usually sleep with guys I’m emotionally invested in. So, when Ben lowers to his knees in front of me, staring, I’m hit with a sudden bout of self-consciousness. There’s a twisting in my chest, and my pulse picks up for all the wrong reasons. I’m having trouble with handling his intense gaze on the most private part of myself.
Unbidden, my knees move to close. He doesn’t stop me but glances up with worry creasing his brow.
“Holly?”
“Sorry. It’s just …” I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands, as if that’d clear away the onslaught of nervousness.
What is going on with me?
The sound of Ben shifting causes my eyes to fly back open. He hovers over me, bracing his elbows on either side of my head. The kiss he brushes over my lips is unhurried and reassuring.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I sigh. “You were staring at me. Like, really staring. I don’t think anyone has ever done that before.”
His nose rubs against mine before he whispers in my ear, “I was staring because I think you’re sexy and beautiful. I want to memorize every single inch of you.” He comes back to kiss me again, working slowly, hinting at how skilled he is with his mouth.
My discomfort fades, replaced with need. I sneak my hands up under his shirt to feel the shifting of muscles in his back.
Ben rocks against me, his jeans rough on the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. Everywhere our bodies touch is a source of raw pleasure. The heat of his arousal amplifies the scent of his pine-needle soap.
He breaks away from the kiss, panting. The desire in his dark green eyes turns my insides up a couple hundred degrees.
This man knows how to preheat my oven.
“You’re a master at getting me hot and bothered. You know that?” I’m gasping, too, my lungs demanding I breathe him in.
His answering grin is boyish, full of happy excitement. “Really?”
Instead of answering, I grab his face and demand more scalding kisses. When we pause for another breather, I give him a gentle push down south. “Okay, hotshot, show me what you’ve got.”
On his way down, Ben takes a pit stop, pulling aside the collar of my shirt and the cup of my bra, so he can run a thumb over my nipple. When I moan, he glances up at me, the corner of his mouth curling.
“Mmm. Missed these.” After another swipe with his thumb, he leans down to suck the tight bud into his mouth. The rough surface of his tongue is almost too much sensation, dragging a cry from the back of my throat.
My fingers tangle in his russet hair as my back bows off the bed.
He lets me go with a wet pop, and I whimper at the loss of contact. Ben chuckles and then moves lower.
First, he uses his fingers, tracing them down my hips and through my curls until the pad of his thumb reaches my sweet spot. When he gives my clit a gentle rub, the sound I let out is a mixture of a gasp and a purr. It’s intoxicating—being with a man who not only knows that my clit exists, but also knows exactly how to caress her.
“You like that? Want me to give you more?” His voice has gone low and dirty, and he firmly massages his thumb in a circular motion.
“Don’t stop … oh God …”
As his one hand works, the fingers of his other explore. They run over my opening, teasing and searching. A groan flows out of me as he continues his steady rhythm. He blows on me, and I jerk in surprise. The shock of cool air contrasting with his warm thumb has me writhing.
Then, I get his hot tongue. Ben licks me like I’m his favorite flavor of ice cream, and I come to believe I’m just as delicious. His fingers spread me wide before he pushes that teasing tongue inside me.
My hips buck involuntarily, and I realize my heels are digging into his shoulders, urging him closer. Demanding he go harder.
But he just keeps to the same pace, slow and insanity-inducing.
Normally, I’m pretty quiet during sex, concentrating on finishing, usually by playing out some fantasy in my head that turns me on more than the guy I’m with. But I’m fully present in this moment with Ben, and he has me gasping and almost laughing in the sheer joy of the moment.
Even though my body is shaking out of my control, I’ve never been more comfortable. Ben is my safe place He holds me steady, so I can let go.
My cheeks prickle and go numb. My fingers and toes curl, my whole body clenching, tensing, getting ready for the snap of a release. I’m light-headed and panting.
“Ben, please!”
My begging must be what he wants because he finally presses harder and moves faster.
Three … two … one.
The cliff edge comes, and I fall off, calling out his name. My muscles pulse with pleasure, finally releasing all that delightful tension.
Once the aftershocks fade, I sink, boneless, into Ben’s mattress. Black spots dot in front of my eyes, and my throat has gone hoarse. The buzzing in my ears retreats until I can hear my own ragged breathing.
Ben appears in my line of vision, supporting himself above me, the way he did before he shattered me. He takes in my hazy, satisfied expression and gifts me with another of his heart-aching grins. If I had any control over my limbs, I’d drag his face down to where I could kiss him.
Instead, he leans down to kiss the end of my nose. “Let me know when you’re ready for round two.”