Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
Kelly didn't feel reckless or uncertain. Her world might be filled with questions and little answers, but this wasn’t one of those things. The case, the worries about Lori, her family, and even her own anxieties didn’t matter.
She pulled him down to her, and this time there was no hesitation, no tentativeness. His lips met hers, soft at first, then quickly growing hungry, and she capitulated eagerly, wanting more of what only he could give her.
If he thought she was the kind of girl to sit quietly and be kissed, he was dead wrong. She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer, letting her hands slide up into his short, silky hair, surprising herself at how much she liked the weight and texture of it in her fingers.
Ben let out a low, ragged sound as she bit gently at his lower lip. He tasted like hot chocolate and something that was just him, fresh, warm, and undeniably masculine.
She wanted to burrow into it, inhale, wrap herself in it. His hands found her waist and squeezed, not hesitantly but with the kind of confidence that made her want to gasp, and she nearly did when he pressed her body back into the couch, flattening her against the cushions.
Yes. A million times yes.
His lips moved from her mouth to her jaw, to her neck, and then back up again, as if needing confirmation, over and over, that this was really happening. It amused her how his restraint made her want to push for more and more. There could never be enough.
She arched into him, and he made a strangled sound, something between a groan and a laugh.
His hands were under her t-shirt now, broad and warm, spanning her ribs as if they belonged there.
The heat between them built in steady increments with every touch, every kiss, every pass of his palm along her ribcage, ratcheting the tension tighter until her entire body hummed with it.
She was not the kind of woman who ignored consequences, but she’d already decided to ignore the future and just exist in the moment.
Maybe this would only last as long as their stay in Bergen, or maybe it would never happen again, but she knew with absolute clarity that she wanted Ben Reilly in every way it was possible to want a person.
He pulled back, breathing heavily, his forehead resting against hers.
"If you want to stop, say so now," he whispered.
Stop? Not a chance.
"I'm not stopping," she said, voice hoarse and direct. Her hands slid under his shirt, fingers skimming over the hard planes of his back, feeling the way his muscles tensed when she touched him. "Unless you want to."
Ben let out a shaky laugh. "Not at all."
He kissed her again, but this time it was almost desperate. It was no longer measured or gentle, just pure, unfiltered need. She had always thought she preferred slow build-up, the tease and the anticipation, but there was something addictive about this; to be wanted so openly made her dizzy.
The couch was not built for two adults making out like teenagers, and when they nearly slid onto the floor, she giggled and then gasped as Ben caught her, both of them tangled in a mess of limbs and laughter.
What might have been a bucket of cold water only made her want him all the more.
That she could laugh with him during a passionate moment was a revelation.
With Ben, it was the least awkward thing in the world.
His hands lifted up the hem of her t-shirt before tossing it aside.
She’d normally be self-conscious, worried about what he thought about her bare body, but she was too busy tugging at his clothes to care.
For a guy who worked in an office and wore expensive Italian business suits, he shouldn’t have been so incredibly gorgeous unclothed.
His shoulders shouldn’t have been so broad, and his abs shouldn’t have been so flat and ridged.
It was as if he were sculpted from marble by one of the Greek gods and given to her as a gift.
Lucky me.
At some point, her own clothes had dissolved, to be looked for at a later point. They were completely unneeded at the moment, and if they’d spontaneously combusted, she wouldn’t have cared a bit.
She pulled him down again, this time flipping them so she was on top.
The sense of control was intoxicating, and Ben seemed more than happy to cede it to her for a while.
She kissed down his jaw, along his collarbone, marveling at the little shiver he gave when she bit lightly at his shoulder.
Her hands roamed everywhere, his arms, his chest, his back, memorizing the topography of him, learning what made him tense, what made him moan.
His own touch was gentle, his hands cupping her breasts while his thumbs stroked the hard, rosy peaks.
He kissed her again, but this time his mouth traveled downward, and when he took her nipple in his mouth, she gasped, clutching at his hair as if it could anchor her to the earth.
She was losing herself, dissolving in the sensation of his mouth, his hands, the way his breath went hot and ragged against her skin.
“We need to make this a little more comfortable,” he whispered against the skin of her shoulder, his breath warm on the flesh.
Reaching behind her, he snagged a few couch pillows, tossing them to the floor, creating a makeshift bed spread out before the television.
He guided her down to the cushions, lowering himself beside her, and then they were skin to skin, the heat of him against her setting off sparks everywhere they touched.
She could feel the hard ridge of his erection against her soft belly, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching down to caress the velvety flesh.
She fumbled awkwardly at first, a bit nervous, but eventually she found the rhythm that had him groaning, his head thrown back.
Was it possible for a man to be beautiful? That was the only word she could think of at the moment when she looked at him.
Yes, he was beautiful.
Their hands explored all the intriguing dips and planes of each other’s bodies, finding the most sensitive spots that elevated their arousal into the clouds.
She didn’t know how long they caressed and stroked, content to simply give pleasure to one another.
In the past, she’d never had the luxury of time, her partners too eager for the main event.
He pushed her gently back on the cushion, his eyes searching hers.
"I want this," he said, "but I want you to be sure."
If she had to hire a skywriter, she would.
"If you hesitate one more time," she said, wrapping her leg around his thigh, "I'm going to drag you the rest of the way myself."
That seemed to do the trick. Ben groaned and settled himself above her, bracing his arms on either side of her head, his body covering hers in a delicious weight. He kissed her, slow and deep, as he slowly, inch by delicious inch, entered her.
So fucking good.
He filled her, stretched her, and she reveled in the sensations, sending wave after wave of pleasure straight to her bones. Slowly, then with more purpose, they moved together, finding a rhythm, her hips rising to meet each slow thrust, their bodies moving in that perfect synchronicity.
Their gazes locked, she wrapped her arms around his back, loving the flex and strain of his muscles under her fingertips, the heat of his skin, the heady scent of sweat and sex and him all mingled together in some sensual perfume.
Gasping his name, she moaned when he hit just the right angle.
She whispered filthy words of encouragement when he buried his face in her shoulder and cursed her softly for being so perfect.
She liked that he was vocal, too, that he didn't hide his enjoyment or pretend it was about her alone. She wanted it to be about both of them.
He seemed to know exactly when she was about to fall, because he captured her lips and kissed her hard before saying her name so softly in her ear. His hand moved between them, finding her wet, swollen, and all too ready to shatter into a million pieces.
When she finally exploded, she cried out his name, her body clenching around him. The wave rolled through her, intense and merciless, and she felt herself clutch at him, holding him inside as she rode out the storm.
He lasted a mere moment longer, then followed her over, his body shuddering above hers.
She forced her eyelids open so she could watch as he climaxed, his teeth gritted together and his jaw impossibly tight.
Her nails dug into the muscles of his shoulder as her body wrenched with one last wave of impossibly intense pleasure, leaving her breathless, sweaty, and sated.
It had never been this good, and she clung to him to make it last as long as possible. She wanted to wring out every single solitary second of being this close to Ben. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but tonight they had this.
This.
Sprawled together on those couch cushions, her heart rate and breathing returned to a somewhat more normal state. The TV played on, looping a late-night movie she’d seen a dozen times, but the dialogue was a low murmur, easily tuned out.
Ben's breathing was slow, almost meditative. Each inhale expanded his chest beneath her ear, lifting her gently with the motion. Every so often, he would draw his fingertips lightly along her shoulder or up the line of her spine, just enough to send a pleasant chill through her. It wasn’t sexual, not anymore.
It was affectionate, unconscious, the sort of touch people used when they’d already decided there was nothing to hide from each other.
Neither spoke for a long time. Kelly didn’t feel the need to. She was aware, in a distant way, that she would have analyzed this whole encounter to death in the past, wondering if she was moving too fast, if he’d respect her in the morning, if she should have made him wait.
But her mind, for the first time in way too long, was quiet, the doubting voice drowned by a deeper satisfaction. The only thing that mattered was this perfect sliver of time, the gentle thump of Ben’s heart, the rise and fall of his breath under her cheek.
He was warm and solid beneath her, and she realized with a small jolt that she’d never felt safer or more content.
This man is dangerous.
If there were consequences to be faced, she would face them later. If there were decisions to make, they could wait until later. For now, they were the only two people in the world.
Tomorrow, however, wasn’t looking nearly as peaceful.