Chapter 21 #3
His head cocks to the side slightly. “The kissing thing or the boyfriend thing?”
It’s so blunt that I can’t help but let out a soft laugh. I’m not sorry about the kiss, even though that feels like the most obvious thing to apologize for so we can move on. I’m not even sure I want to move on.
“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s just… you’re my friend. That means a lot to me, and I don’t want to mess that up.”
He leans a shoulder against his doorframe, his expression pensive. “You could never mess it up, Marnie.”
Even though I’ve spent the past two hours thinking about the taste of your tongue?
The thought warms my cheeks even as I push it away.
“What if I had a secret husband in the attic?”
The corner of his mouth twitches in that way I know is a smile. “Not even then.”
I smile, too. “Okay. So… still friends?”
“If that’s what you want.”
Is it? I don’t even know anymore.
“What do you want?” I whisper.
He stares at me like he’s taking his time weighing every possible response. Then he takes a step forward. And another. He’s standing so close, I can feel the warmth radiating off him, smell the sawdust and sandalwood from his skin. It sends a low hum through my bloodstream.
“I want to kiss you again.”
His voice is so deep, so matter-of-fact. As if his words haven’t just set off a thousand small explosions in my chest.
“Oh,” I say, my mouth gaping open for another moment before I think of what to say. “Then I think you should do that.”
A moment passes before his hand comes up to delicately cradle my jaw, like I’m breakable. And I suppose I am. A broken person trying desperately to put herself back together. Except I feel more put together, more myself, than I ever have. And that’s largely because of him.
If magic were real, Ben Morgan would be magic.
With that thought, his lips meet mine. The kiss is soft, gentle, like he’s working in slow motion, like he knows he only has this one moment and he has to savor it. Commit it to memory. It sends a sharp ache through my chest, because if that’s true, I need to savor this, too.
I open my mouth to his, letting his tongue caress mine as he uses his hand to angle me just so, a motion so small but so self-assured I can’t help but moan.
He swallows up the sound as he takes another step forward, and suddenly I feel myself pressed against the hallway wall, the plaster cold even through my sweater. It only highlights how warm his skin is, his breath and his tongue.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling that warmth to me so tightly that I swear I hear him groan.
I know he’s holding back, I can feel the tension in his shoulders, in how he’s positioned his body around mine.
And as much as I want him to know he doesn’t have to, I also feel the low simmer of anticipation in my blood.
Because if this is Ben holding back, I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like when he lets go.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” he murmurs against my lips.
“But you don’t do relationships,” I reply, so breathless I should feel embarrassed. But I really, really don’t.
“It’s a good thing you’re not looking for one, then.”
I laugh against his lips, but he devours it with another kiss.
His hand is still on my jaw, while the other travels down, those rough fingers gripping my hip through my jeans and pulling me closer. And… oh, at that angle I can feel everything. All of him. I don’t care if he wants a relationship or not, if this will mean anything in the morning. I just want—
The harsh blare of the buzzer for the front door downstairs reverberates out of Ben’s apartment.
We both freeze, our breath intermingling as we stare at one another, like we’ve both been shaken violently awake.
The buzzer sounds again, followed by the sound of a cell phone ringing nearby.
“Shit,” Ben murmurs, resting his forehead against mine, catching his breath. Then he pulls his phone from his pocket. Pete’s name is on the screen.
“What the hell do you want, Pete?” Ben answers, eyes squeezed shut.
Even with the phone to his ear, I can hear Pete’s reply. “I FORGOT I NEED TO TAKE A PISS.”
“Can’t that wait until you get home?”
“I DON’T THINK I’LL MAKE IT PAST CHARLESTOWN.”
The buzzer rings out again.
“Pete—”
“COME ON, MAN! EVERYWHERE ELSE IS CLOSED! I CAN’T—”
Ben hangs up and lets out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I need to go deal with… whatever the hell he’s about to do to my bathroom.”
“Right. Okay,” I reply. My smile feels wobbly, like it’s being jostled by my racing pulse.
He straightens, the serious line of his brow returning as he takes one last survey of my face. If he sees how fragile my smile is, he doesn’t let on. He just steps backward into his apartment and presses the buzzer button beside his door.
I turn and will my hands to stop shaking long enough to unlock my dead bolt so I can retreat inside. I manage it just as I hear Pete’s feet bounding up the stairwell.
I don’t look back at Ben as I slide into my apartment. But as I get into my pajamas, wash my face, and brush my teeth, my attention stays on my door, listening to hear if he knocks.
He doesn’t.