The Wrong Holidate

Mardi Gras

LAINEY

As our Uber pulls up in front of the Red Poppy, my stomach knots. I never should have added it as one of my date options. Because, of course, my date picked it. Now, it's like returning to the scene of the crime.

What happened in Ben's office on Valentine's Day has lived rent-free in my head for the past two weeks. I still don't know what possessed me to take his bet, knowing the direction it would go. He’s Ben-freaking-Kelley, after all.

Yet, despite all the reasons I shouldn’t have, I wanted to be the person to give Ben Kelley his first, and possibly only, Valentine's gift.

I wanted to be special to him.

And here I go again, romanticizing the fuckboy. What I need is to forget Ben and focus on my date, Duncan.

Duncan helps me out of the car with a kind smile. He's good-looking, tall with shaggy dark blond hair and an honest charm that instantly puts you at ease. He’s got a great job at a marketing firm and has had some fantastic ideas on what we can do for my post. He’s also been genuinely interested in what I have to say and is turning out to be my most invested and attentive holidate by far.

He's the total package. I should be experiencing some serious butterflies right now, but...nothing. Zilch. Nada.

"I'm excited to try this place. I've heard great things," he says.

"I've only been here once," And gave the owner a lap dance, "but the drinks were amazing. I'm excited about the jazz band."

"Yeah, I've seen the videos of the Bare-chested Bartender. Those reels crack me up. Gotta appreciate good marketing."

I glance at him, and he seems truly excited. This man really loves his job. Honestly, if he wants to take the reins of this date, I’m happy to let him. This job hasn’t exactly gone in the creative direction I thought it would, and the dating part has been a flop—except for Ben.

Nope. Not thinking about him.

The bouncer at the door offers us disposable masquerade masks to wear. Duncan immediately puts his on, and I follow his lead. We enter the dim room, and my gaze immediately cuts to the bar area.

There he is.

The charming bartender who makes the dormant butterflies in my stomach take flight.

Fuck.

As if he feels my gaze, Ben looks in my direction and a category-five hurricane might as well have blown through me. The corner of his mouth lifts as he takes in my purple and gold sparkly dress. Duncan’s hand lands on the small of my back and guides me further into the room. The small smile on Ben’s face fades as his gaze slides from where Duncan touches me. As if a switch flipped, his focus snaps back to the woman at the bar, effectively dismissing us both. He flashes her a megawatt smile before leaning over and letting her put a string of beads over his neck. While she has him in her clutches, she stuffs a rolled-up napkin into his shirt pocket. And he winks at her. Ugh, I’m surprised he didn’t flash his abs.

"Let’s find a table." I need to be as far away from the not-yet-bare-chested bartender as possible.

Duncan frowns. "We can sit later. Let's go to the bar. I want to see this guy in action."

Wonderful.

We make our way through the crowd and finally get a spot in front of Ben—after wading through a plethora of women. His gaze meets mine again, and those damn butterflies strike up their own party.

"Lainey.” My name is like warm honey off his lips, and I find myself squeezing my thighs together.

"I'm wearing a mask. You're not supposed to recognize me."

Ben leans over the bar, his gaze intense. "I'll always recognize you."

Heat fills my cheeks as his seductive voice moves over me. He winks, and I hate how potent it is, especially when he gives it so freely. He turns his attention to Duncan. "Hey man, welcome to Red Poppy. What can I get you?"

Duncan glances between us before asking me, "What would you like?"

"Hurrican-tini," Ben answers. I narrow my gaze at him. "You said you wanted to try it. Am I wrong?"

"You two know each other?" Duncan’s tone cautious.

"Sorry, yeah. Duncan, this is Ben Kelley. His dad is dating my mom."

"Oh wow, that's cool. It's nice to meet you, Ben. I really like Red Poppy's online presence. It’s genius." Duncan holds out his hand for Ben to shake, which he does.

"Nice to meet you too, man. Not sure about genius, but thanks. Want to try the Hurrican-tini, too, or something else? My treat for you and my future step-sis." Ben shoots me a cocky grin, and it takes all my willpower not to flip him off.

"I'll take one as well." Duncan looks at me. "It'll make a good picture."

I nod, agreeing. Yes, this is all about the date. Focus on Duncan, not the man behind the bar. "The band sounds great. We should dance."

"Absolutely." His gaze dips down my body as his arm comes around to my waist. He pulls me into him a little more and leans until his mouth is next to my ear. "You look gorgeous. That dress is hot on you.”

I should be melting at the sexy compliment. Instead, I’m trying not to visibly squirm and wishing I’d heard those words in Ben’s voice.

Duncan straightens and hits me with the full force of his charming smile. I really need to give the guy a chance so I force myself to relax in his embrace and say, "Thank you."

"Here are your drinks."

Ben's voice jerks us apart. I glance at him, and his expression is thunderous. A surge of desire suddenly pulses through me. Ugh. There is seriously something wrong with me that Ben's angry gaze turns me on more than Duncan's sweet smile.

Thankfully, my holidate doesn't seem to notice Ben's annoyance and asks him to take a picture of us. Ben agrees but is clearly not happy about it. Duncan pulls me close, and we hold up our glasses, posing for the camera. Ben returns Duncan's phone and I pull mine out to take a video of the bar and the music playing then grab a shot of us cheers-ing with our martini glasses. I finally take a sip of the drink and, damn , it packs a punch. It's also probably one of the best drinks I've ever had.

I look over to Ben, who is still in front of us making another drink. "This is amazing."

He smiles then. "Thanks, step-sis. "

Oh, no, you don’t...

I lean forward. "Stop with that crap."

"That's how you introduced me."

"Not exactly."

A hand lands on my hip. "Lainey, you ready to dance?"

I give Ben one last glare, and turn to Duncan. "Yes, ready."

We head toward the band and enjoy our drinks while we listen. Very deliberately, I keep my back to the bar. We take off our masks and talk a little, but most of our discussion focuses on what we should do to document our date next. We decide to wait for an upbeat song before we dance, and when the band finally starts to play one, I down the rest of my drink before we hit the floor. Duncan pulls me into him. Taking out his phone, he shifts it to selfie mode and videos us dancing and laughing. Duncan might just be worth a second date—if he’d focus more on me than posting to social media. It hasn’t even been two full months, and the constant obsession with being online all the damn time is already overwhelming.

Soon, I have a pleasant buzz going. Duncan has gotten more interesting and my glances toward the bar have gotten further apart. Watching Ben flash his abs for beads is churning up feelings I haven’t experienced since Isaac, and I don’t like it. I’m shocked he’s not slumping over from the thick stack of necklaces around his neck. The jazz band ends their set, and a Zydeco band sets up. When they start, I'm ready to cut loose. But as soon as we're on the dance floor, Duncan has his phone out again, taking more videos and pictures.

Annoyance fills me. I’m so over his damn camera.

After a couple of songs, I yell over the music, “I need a break.”

Of course, Duncan beelines it toward Ben. He orders us more hurrican-tinis, and as Ben goes to make them, Duncan leans into me .

"We should kiss."

My stomach drops. I lean back slightly trying to hide how badly I want to scramble away. "What?"

"For your post. A kiss picture would be great. It would also be an awesome plug for the dating app."

He's right. I'd actually already thought of it, except I don't want to kiss Duncan, even if it's only part of the job. He already has his phone camera ready and pulls me closer with that sparkling smile on his lips again.

Fly, butterflies. Damn it, fly!

But they don't.

I want to tell him to stop, but the word lodges in my throat, battling with what I know would be a good job move. He leans in and I press my hand to his chest, trying to figure out if I push away or not. But I don't get a chance. Sprinkles of water hit us both in the face and we jolt apart.

I look over to find Ben holding the soda gun in his hand. "Shit, sorry!" he says, looking appropriately surprised. "Got away from me there."

Yeah. Right.

He replaces the gun in its holder and sets fresh martinis on the bar in front of us. "On the house. Really sorry about that."

I glare at him then look at Duncan, who is wiping his face with a napkin. He got a lot wetter than me.

"It's okay, man," Duncan says, but I’m pretty sure he's annoyed.

His eyes meet mine, but before he can suggest the picture again, I pick up my drink and take a healthy sip. A drink this strong really shouldn't taste like candy. Ben gives me a growly look.

"Hey, Ben. A call for you." The female bartender who blew me off on New Year's Eve shouts at him.

Ben doesn't tear his gaze from mine. "I'll take it in my office. "

I refuse to watch him walk away. Instead, I polish off my martini. I glance at Duncan and he's eyeing my empty glass with concern. Before he can propose the kiss photo idea again, I make a break for the bathroom, telling him I'm going to clean up.

Except once I’m in the hall toward the restrooms, I stop in front of Ben's office door. Not about to question what in the world I’m doing, I try the handle. It opens, so I push my way in, closing the door quickly behind me.

He's sitting at his desk, leaning back casually in his chair watching me with a smirk on his lips that is far sexier than it should be. All the beads are discarded except for a couple of strands—and he's not on the phone. No, he looks like he was expecting me.

“Back hurting from the weight of all those beads? Or just getting ready for the next round of ab flashing for your adoring fans?”

“It’s , Lainey. Can’t expect me to be a saint on a night all about sin.” His smirk grows into a knowing smile as he leans forward. "How's the date going?"

Of course, he’d be all laissez-faire about his actions. "I can't believe you sprayed water on us. What the hell, Ben?"

He stands and stalks toward me, his cocky expression now something much darker. I step back until I’m suddenly against the door, and he’s left only inches of space between us. "You didn't want to kiss him, but for some stupid reason, you were going to let him."

Anger mixed with a spark of desire flares in his eyes. The fucking butterflies take over my body, fleeing my stomach and flying north into my chest. I bite back a scream of frustration—at him and my reaction.

"You don't know that. Duncan is nice, smart, and good-looking. He's actually been interested in this date, which is more than I can say for any of my past holidates. Why wouldn't I want to kiss him? He's a fucking catch!"

Ben puts his hand on the door behind me and leans in, so close his breath heats my cheek. "Want to know what I think?" His voice is low and gravelly, and the butterflies go berserk. "I think you're trying to convince yourself that you like him, but you really don't. I think you haven't stopped thinking about what happened the last time you were in this office. You haven't been able to stop from glancing at me every time his head is turned. In fact, I think this whole evening, you’ve thought of nothing but... me ."

You arrogant...

"How would you know unless you're watching me," I fire back. “Though not sure how you could have with all the numbers being tossed at you.” I pluck the napkin from earlier still in his pocket.

He takes the napkin, balls it in his hand before tossing it over his shoulder. He inches closer, his gaze intense. "Maybe I haven't been able to stop thinking about what happened in this office either. Maybe I really don't like that you brought a date to my fucking bar. "

He's so close the tips of my breasts now brush his chest. I can't breathe properly. And I'm pretty sure the butterflies are all dead because now all I feel is the roaring inferno he's created inside me.

"If you liked him so much, you'd be out there with him getting that kiss you don't want instead of sneaking in here with me."

I go to disagree, but my gaze falls to his lips and whatever false denial I could have come up with, disappears.

His mouth flattens in annoyance and he steps away from me. "That's it. We're establishing a safe word."

I blink out of my mental haze. "A safe word? "

Our eyes meet, and he may as well have me pinned in place.

"You tell me no when you mean yes. You tell him yes when you mean no. I don't want any fucking confusion between us. We need a safe word."

"Ben—"

"Acnestis."

I pause, trying to figure out what he said. " Ack what?"

"Ak-nees-tis," he says slowly. "It's that part of your back that you can't reach to scratch." He reaches around and presses his hand into the spot between my shoulder blades. "Your acnestis."

"Why that word?" And why does his hand there have every part of me focused solely on him?

"It's a word you'll never accidentally use. If you say that word, it's because you really mean it. Now, repeat it back to me."

The authority in his tone sends a flood of desire right to my pussy.

"Acnestis."

“Good girl.”

Oh fuck. Now my panties are soaked. He just unlocked a kink I didn’t realize I had.

“That's your safe word. Use it only if you want to stop anything between us. Okay?"

"Okay,” I repeat, breathless.

He takes a few slow steps, his gaze never leaving mine, until his hard body’s brushing my soft breasts again. "Now I'm going to give you the kiss you really want."

He leans until his nose brushes mine, his mouth a hesitating breath from mine. The safe word hangs between us—unsaid. Then his mouth takes mine in a kiss that immediately claims. It's rough. Messy. Almost painful.

And I fucking love it.

I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my body fully into his. His hands roam down my body until he reaches my thigh, pulling my leg to his waist, but my dress restricts the movement. He growls, rips his mouth from mine, and yanks my dress until it's pooling around my waist. His gaze captures mine, daring me to stop this. I hold his stare.

And say nothing.

A knowing, arrogant smile pulls his mouth before he kisses me again, this time with even more ferocity than before. He brings my leg up and pushes his hips into mine. I arch into him, shamelessly rubbing myself over the hard cock straining against his fly.

"Fuck, Lainey." He thrusts against me.

We continue like that for I don't know how long. Kissing and thrusting against each other frantically. I'm so wet I’m probably making a mess on his pants. I swear it won't be long before he makes me come like this. His hand slides between us, and his fingers brush my soaked panties. I shudder, crying out. He breaks our kiss and looks at me—another chance to say the safe word.

Another chance I don’t take.

He groans as he presses his fingers harder against me before moving my panties aside and slipping his fingers over my bare skin.

"Ben..."

"Fuck, you're so wet. You want to come, Lainey?" His touch is soft, barely there. A tease. A promise.

"Yes... please. "

"You want me to make you come. Only me." His fingers brush my clit, and my hips jerk, begging for more.

"Yes," I sob.

"Say it." He strokes me again, giving me only a taste of pleasure. "Be a good girl and tell me. I'll make you come so hard you'll fucking see stars."

"You. Only you. "

A low, primal moan comes out of him as he thrusts his fingers inside me, fucking me with long strokes before pulling out and rubbing my clit with the perfect amount of pressure that pushes me over the edge. I come hard and fast, screaming so loud I'm sure anyone on the other side of the door heard me.

"Your cum feels so fucking sweet. I can't wait to taste it."

I groan at his words as I ride his fingers, wave after wave of pleasure continuing to crash over me. I grip his shoulders so I don't melt onto the floor in a puddle of bliss. He presses his forehead to mine, our labored breaths mixing. Our gazes meet and all I can think is...finally. This moment was inevitable the second his hand slid over mine in the car on New Year's Eve.

Holding my gaze, he takes his fingers out of me, brings them to his mouth and sucks off my cum. “So. Fucking. Sweet.”

A broken moan escapes me. I want to sink to my knees, take him in my mouth, and suck until I get a full taste of him. But before I can move, a loud beep sounds, and a voice erupts from the phone speaker. "Ben, we need you back out here."

He mutters a curse and slowly untangles himself from me. I tug at my clothes while we hold each other’s stare. Those butterflies are back, their wings flapping heavy with realization.

I just let a man who wasn’t my date give me an orgasm.

He must see the panic in my expression because he sighs and turns away from me. "I've got a private bathroom." He goes to a door on the opposite wall that I assumed was a closet before. Rushing water sounds, and he steps back into the room, tossing a spent paper towel in the trash can beside his desk. "Feel free to use it before you leave. And if you could press the lock, I'd appreciate it."

I nod. This has to be the weirdest post-orgasm conversation I've ever had. And I really hate it.

He gives me a quick nod back and goes to leave. But before he passes me, he stops, and our gazes meet again. His expression is somber, yet a spark flares in his blue eyes. "Don't kiss him. Not tonight. Not after that." His voice is steel, and he doesn't wait for me to answer—because he knows I’ll obey.

It takes a few moments before I can move. I use his bathroom to clean up and try to get myself back under control. Though that’s a battle I won’t win. Holy hell. I have to go back out there and face my date with my body still tingling from Ben’s touch.

Wow, I never thought I’d be a fuckgirl.

Once I gather enough courage, I reenter the bar area and scan the room for Duncan. I wouldn't be surprised if he left me. I was gone much longer than any normal bathroom break. I finally find him near the front window, leaning in close and talking to a woman, his hand on her hip. Normally, I’d be pissed he’s chatting up another girl on our date, but considering what I just did, he has every right. My stomach churns with guilt as I approach him.

"Hey," I say once I’m beside him.

He stops talking to the woman and gives me a quick scan. His eyes flick behind me toward the bar. He returns his gaze back to me, and a resigned smile graces his lips, which is a lot nicer than I deserve. He should be pissed. "You're back."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

He nods, not looking too put out. "Lainey, this is Rachel."

I smile at her. "Hey, it's nice to meet you. Can I borrow Duncan for a few minutes?"

Rachel looks between us, seeming unsure of our relationship. "Yeah, sure."

I nod toward the corner, but when I move, I sway a bit on my feet. Duncan grabs my elbow to steady me. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I think that last Hurrican-tini is hitting me.”

He lifts his highball glass with an amber liquor in it. "My drinks are on the house for the rest of the night. "

"Oh really? I guess it was worth it to get a little sprayed, huh?"

"I don't think that's the reason. But I'll take the guilt drinks."

My face flames. Thank goodness it’s dark in here. “Look, I’m really sorry. I’ve never acted like this on a date. I promise there’s nothing between me and Ben.”

Duncan tilts his head and raises his brows at me.

I am such a terrible liar.

“Okay, there’s something. But we’ve never acted on it.” Until tonight. Lie, lie, lie. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

Truth.

“Lainey, it’s fine. I was the one who wanted to come here. You suggested other places. As soon as I saw you two together at the bar, I picked up on the vibes. Look, I don’t think it’s a secret I went on this date because I wanted to be part of your post.”

I smile at him. “I got that. I really was looking forward to getting to know you, though.”

He nods. “Me too. I mean, I wasn’t going to rule out the possibility of sex.”

I laugh and sway a bit again but balance myself before Duncan can.

He glances at Rachel. “I know we should probably finish the date for the post, but...”

“No, no. You should totally go back and talk to her. You deserve a good night.”

“Thanks. Look, if you mention that we didn’t work on the post—"

“No one needs to know how the date ended. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re a good guy.”

“Thanks, Lainey.” He leans and gives my cheek a kiss. “Happy .”

He goes back to Rachel, who looks relieved that we’re clearly not a couple. I should go home, but instead, I turn back to the bar. Surprisingly, there’s an open seat in front of the female bartender. I don’t try to get her attention for a drink. I don’t need to lose my inhibitions anymore tonight. I have enough repercussions to deal with tomorrow. Instead, I people watch. The place is rocking, and it looks amazing. Ben replaced the usual red accent lighting with purple and gold, giving the place a real feel, not to mention some appropriate decorations spread throughout the bar. And this band is electric. I take out my phone and get some video. Hopefully, my post will get Red Poppy some good exposure.

I turn back to the bar and a Hurrican-tini is set in front of me. I look up at the female bartender. “I didn’t order this.”

“I know. But since you let go of Prince Charming over there, I thought you deserved one. Now, if you decided to keep the date to make my boy jealous, your ass would have been kicked to the curb. I’m Jan, by the way.”

“Lainey,” I say. “And thanks.” I lift my glass in cheers, knowing this isn’t a good idea, but too dazed to turn it away.

I sip the martini slowly, not that it makes the effects of the alcohol take hold any less. The whole place has a certain softness to it now, but the music is louder and feels like it’s closing in. I should go home. I glance at the front door, and it hits me that I didn’t lock Ben’s office. Fuck. I make my way unsteadily back. Sure enough, the door opens. I go in, shut it, and press the lock. I blink a few times. What was I going to do next? If the room would stop spinning, maybe I could figure it out. Or maybe I should sit on the couch. Just for a few seconds.