Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Mazzy
Five Years Ago
The laughing had stopped the moment Ben pushed inside me.
Now, there was only the sound of our breathing and the faint crash of the ocean as we moved together.
Everything was heat. His skin against mine, the humid island air, the weight of him holding me down in the sweetest, most consuming way.
He wasn’t rushing anymore. Each thrust was deep and smooth, so good, I could barely remember my name, let alone anything outside this room existed.
“Look at me,” he murmured. “Let me see your pretty eyes.”
I did. Without my glasses on, he was in soft focus. His harsh, masculine lines were smudged, but it did nothing to lessen the impact of seeing him above me. Touching his jaw, I felt it clench, making my chest ache and toes curl.
“Ben,” I breathed out, barely a sound.
“Mazzy,” he replied before dipping down to kiss me roughly, all wet licks and raking teeth. His tongue dove deep into my mouth, lapping every corner, leaving me breathless. I clutched his shoulders, digging in with my nails.
I hoped I’d remember this tomorrow. I hoped my memory wasn’t too soaked in alcohol. So I’d have this night to fall back on when I finally faced my heartbreak—to wrap around me as something good to beat back the bad.
Ben ground his hips slow but powerful, and I arched into him, my head falling back against the pillows. He caught my wrist and pinned it above my head, his other hand sliding under my thigh to hook over his hip.
“That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “You feel so good. Who told you you could feel this good?”
“I do what I want,” I answered, going a little out of my mind. He was right. We barely knew each other. It shouldn’t have felt this right. Even drunk sex had never been like this for me. Never so consuming.
The bed rocked with every thrust, the headboard thudding against the wall. My broken cries matched the slick slide of him inside me.
“Harder,” I begged. Jaw flexing, he drove into me with a force that knocked the air right out of my chest. My other leg wrapped around his waist, holding him close, urging him to take me to my limits.
“You feel so perfect.” His voice was hoarse, his forehead pressed to mine. “So fucking hot.”
The words made me clench around him, and he hissed a curse, his movements stuttering for a beat before he caught his rhythm again.
Everything tightened—the heat, the pressure, my whole body. Then I was coming, crying out his name, scratching lines down his back with my nails as pleasure shattered through me.
Ben’s groan was guttural, like I’d just dragged him under with me. He pressed in hard, deep, his big body trembling as his own release tore through him. His hand still wrapped around my wrist, he held me exactly where he wanted me.
When it was over...when we’d wrung each other out so thoroughly, there was nothing left, he collapsed onto me, sweaty and hot, panting against my skin.
“Holy Moses,” I whispered, still shaking.
Ben laughed weakly into my neck. “You okay, baby?”
“I think so.” I curled my arms around him, not caring we were a tangle of damp limbs and twisted sheets. “Definitely not sober, though.”
“Me neither,” he said, kissing my collarbone, lazy and satisfied. “That means you have no idea if that was any good.”
“Oh, I know it was good.”
“Hmmm.” He nuzzled into my hair, humming happily. “Agreed. Can’t move my legs. Might have to sleep right here.”
“Just don’t crush me,” I mumbled, but I wasn’t going to push him away. Not even a little.
Eventually, the room stopped spinning enough for me to breathe normally. Ben rolled to his side, dragging me with him, until we were a sweaty heap in the center of the bed, the ceiling fan wobbling above us like it was drunk too.
I tucked my face into his chest, feeling his heart still hammering under my cheek.
“This was probably a very bad idea,” I whispered to myself.
“Oh yeah. The worst,” he said, trailing his fingers down my back.
“Should we do it again?”
With a crooked grin, he pushed me onto my back and hovered above me. “Absolutely.”