42. Chapter 42
Chapter forty-two
Benjamin
B enjamin leaned against the bar, sipping on his second drink of the night and watching the venue staff stack chairs and roll away tables. He wasn't typically a heavy drinker; he’d been favoring water the whole night, allowing himself a single finger of a perfectly aged scotch during the round of toasts immediately following dinner.
But when he caught sight of a certain blonde wrapped in blue velvet leaving the reception, wrapped just as tightly around the bulging bicep of the largest man in the room fifteen minutes prior, he’d decided a second drink wasn’t outside of propriety. He could use a little relaxation. Unfortunately, the fiery liquid had the opposite effect: souring his stomach almost as much as the thought of hearing Francesca’s moans of pleasure from the next room.
Moans he wouldn’t be causing this time.
He abandoned the barely touched tumbler on the bar with a hundred-dollar bill tucked beneath and strolled out of the tent.
“Night,” the bartender called.
The very December crispness in the air provided more relief than the drink. A stroll around town as the bars closed down would help. The holidays were in full swing along Main Street. He took in the glow of the Christmas lights, twinkling between the silent flakes of snow drifting from the clouds. A giant tree in the middle of town reached higher than the rest, proudly displaying twists of ribbons and lights. The scene was beautiful but left him with a bitterness he couldn’t shake.
He’d messed up.
Spectacularly.
And there was no going back from the error he made. He’d slept with a student. One of his students and jeopardized his career and potentially her scholarship in the process. Not only that, but he took advantage of his best friend’s little sister like an opportunistic villain. He risked his most cherished friendship, and if he had the opportunity to go back . . . If he had the chance to undo every choice he made, every touch and taste . . .
Who was he kidding? He would do it all over again.
That’s why when he spotted the good sheriff clomping to his truck just outside of the Wilhelm Haus Inn, he breathed a sigh of relief. Before he could second-guess anything, he found himself at the door of the room just beside his and knocked.
The creak of the hinges reverberated in his ears, and the sight of Francesca still dressed, hair neatly in place, lipstick unsmudged, left him breathless.
“Oh, thank god,” she gasped the instant she registered his presence.
Benjamin needed no further invitation, stepping across the threshold and into her seeking arms. His lips met hers in contact rife with so many unspoken thoughts.
I’m sorry.
Forgive me.
God, I need you.
His mouth slanted feverishly over hers, pushing hard as though he had the power to will the words from his mind to hers. His fingertips pressed into her waist and firmly dipped to the small of her back. Benjamin whispered an oath of gratitude for whoever designed her dress because the high slit at the front allowed perfect access to reach through and cup her ass. Effortlessly, he lifted and Francesca settled her bare legs around his waist, hooking her ankles at his back.
He didn’t mean to crash her so violently into the entryway wall, but her satisfied groan doused any worry that he’d hurt her. Her needy fingers gripped at his hair, now fully out of sorts and rumpled, as she did her part to pull him even closer.
This woman.
Francesca .
He was drowning in her: her lavender scent, the soft prickle of her goosebumps under the drag of his teeth. The realization that he might never come back up for air again—and the fact that he took pleasure in the notion—made him rumble a quiet laugh.
Pulling back, she looked at him quizzically. Her eyes filled to the edge with expanding pupils and questions. “What is it?”
The hesitation in her voice burrowed into his chest and flattened his heart—so much subtext in those three little words. The loudest concern centered around whether they were making a mistake. So badly he wanted to offer her everything. Promises and vows to touch and protect and care for her until the day he died, but they would be empty. Because odds were, he would destroy her in the end. In his experience, things like love and commitment did not last, and despite the joy and happiness in the beginning, the very display he’d witnessed mere hours before, he knew deep down that there was no truth in happily ever after .
“I can’t give you what you want—”
“Give me tonight.” Her words came out raw and vulnerable. “That’s what I want.”
His flattened heart split down the middle. He should have set her down, straightened his jacket, and marched to his room, but Benjamin was a weak man. She made him weak. And so, despite wishing for the strength to do the virtuous thing, he rolled his hips into hers, pressing her more firmly against the wall. She shuddered and dashed her fingers down his shirt, frantically unhooking buttons until his chest was bare.
“Are you sure?” he croaked, legs shaking as she pressed against the erection that stiffened against her core.
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, practically groping his pecs, nipples, and abs with her hungry eyes.
“ Francesca ,” Benjamin chided in his most convincing professor voice. “Focus, please.”
The blaze of desire emanating from the golden rim of her irises nearly knocked him back. Straight white teeth worried her plump bottom lip playfully before she said, “Yes, professor. I’m sure.”
Groaning in relief, he nipped at her jaw and followed down the length of her neck, all the while pressing his hips against hers. The silky roughness of her velvet dress abraded his bare chest, scraping against his nipples with every single shift.
Too much clothing; she was practically swimming in the heavy fabric. Gripping harder with one hand to ensure she stayed in place, Benjamin slid his other up her side then slowly cupped her breast. She trembled as he curled his fingers around the edge of her neckline then grazed her nipple with his knuckles as he pulled the dense fabric aside. The lace of her bra matched the darkening swell of her pupils as they edged out the lingering amber ring.
Still, it wasn’t enough. The tiny glimpse ratcheted his lust, and he feared his own demise if the torture continued.
“Hold onto me,” he demanded.
“Aren’t I already?”
He slapped her ass in warning, the muted clap making her giggle, but she obeyed, clamping her legs harder against his waist. Pushing off the wall, he marched her to the bed and landed on top of her. He pushed up onto his hands so he hovered above her. She reached for him, and he casually swatted her hand away. Sweat glistened on her collarbone and just between her breasts. The flush of her cheeks and the heaving rise and fall of her breasts announced her response to his gaze, his touch.
“What do you need, Francesca?” He teased his tongue along her collarbone, and she arched in response. “What do you want me to do to you?”
He couldn’t have missed her cheeky grin if he tried. What crossed her mind? Whatever it was, anything, all she needed to do was ask, and he would do it to her. For her.
“I’m the boss,” she said as she giggled.
“Oh, are you now?” he teased, tracing along the black straps of her bra.
“That’s what I want.” She propped herself up on her elbows and arched a challenging brow. “I want you to do as I say and only as I say.”
Intriguing.
Benjamin swirled the idea around in his head for a moment. It was not an outlandish request, but he tended to prefer being the one in control. In all aspects of his life. And typically women were happy—thrilled even—to oblige. Francesca had done just that in the cabin. But something about the idea of being her willing plaything had a certain appeal.
“All right, Francesca,” he growled, sucking lightly on her neck and rolling his hips against hers in one final display of power. “I’ll let you take over, but fair warning. I may not be able to follow directions as well as you expect.”
“Even if you get a reward?” She licked her lips, and he nearly died.