Chapter 19 #2
I get it. I've seen the girl in the door reflection, too. How this dress hugs my hips and stretches my legs into forever. I'd stare at me too, beg me to acknowledge him.
Sadly for him, I won’t.
"Good evening, André." I smile at the receptionist lightly.
"Good evening, Mrs. Lawson."
Ben’s jaw ticks at the name mention, but I’m already drifting past him, feeling his gaze follow me—no, cling to me.
Oh, wait... I think I need to fix the clasp of my shoe.
I slow down, pausing at the sofa, long enough for him to catch a brief glimpse of my thigh through the dress slit before I walk on again.
My heels click on the marble as I carry myself proudly, leaving him in a trail of my perfume.
Top note: blood orange.
Base: patchouli.
Heart: not a single fuck given, boy.
Now he'll get the sting of someone weaponizing your own heart against you.
I dig in my purse for my chip card, call the elevator and wait, pretending I’m not aware of the tensed silence because Ben still hasn’t said a single word.
Then the elevator opens and I step in, turn my face back into the lobby, lock eyes with him—and oxygen instantly sucks out of my lungs.
Because no one knows what an intense gaze is until Ben Bellini burns his eyes into yours like that.
Somehow, I manage not to waver, my face unreadable, while we hold each other’s gaze.
The doors start to close—
His jaw ticks, sharp as a trigger. One flick at André, four long strides, and he slips inside at the last possible second.
He moves to the back of the elevator and leans against the wall, crossing his arms, like he's just a neighbor sharing a ride.
Except, this is a descend into madness.
When he doesn’t press a button, I snap over my shoulder, "You're not going to your floor?"
His head tips lazily against the mirror, lashes half-lowered, eyes dragging over me to the point I shift. Then he gives a subtle shake of his head.
"Humph." Not my problem. He can go to hell.
I turn back, faking normal while the elevator seals us shut, and watch the floor numbers climb.
Will I apologize? No. That ship sailed. I'm pissed, and he deserves to know it.
The mirror catches my attention and I glance up just as Ben takes a step forward toward me. Only one, but it's enough.
Suddenly, he's behind me, and my bones forget how to hold me upright, every vertebra wanting to tip back into him.
Instead, I force myself to stand still, focusing on my beautiful shoes. Forget he's here. Forget him.
Ben takes another step, his heat right at my back, and my eyes flick up to his reflection, instantly widening at what I see.
His head is dropping to the bare line of my neck, his breath skimming me before his jaw brushes my skin, from my shoulder to my ear—slowly, deliberately.
I close my eyes and wonder if he's going to bite me again.
Crazy as I am, I wouldn't stop him. I'm even subtly tilting my head to give him access.
Instead, his fingers sift into my hair, and the brooch bites at my skin when he catches the clasp. A low tut escapes him.
"Your hair's too pretty to hide," he says, and snaps it loose.
My hair spills down, a silken waterfall brushing over my shoulders.
Ben exhales, eyes closing like he's inhaling some drug he's been dying to taste again, and his voice comes out low enough to shiver along my skin. "You always smell like strawberries."
Then he smiles wolfishly. "Bet you taste like them too."
"Stop it," I manage, my breath shredded, but my body is locked.
"You think telling me to stop makes me want to?" He runs his hand through my hair, then pauses, searching my face. "Say you don't feel it, and I will."
His thumb presses at the front of my tensed throat, making me swallow and my chest starts heaving.
"It doesn't matter if I feel it," I mutter.
"It does to me. That's the problem," he says. "I can't switch it off like you can. Not after our kiss. It's still in my head. Every night. Every morning. Mid-stitching patients. And I know it's in yours too."
His hand trails down my throat, my chest, my navel, before those two long fingers land on my thigh and start tapping, tap, tap, tap, each touch landing closer to my center.
"Ben..." I barely breathe, shivers running all over my body. "What are you doing?"
Oh god. His fingertips graze the lace of my underwear, brushing where I'm already throbbing for him, and he breathes in my ear: "What did you call us?"
"What?" I can't think. Can't breathe. Not when he's teasing me so close to the place I swore I'd never let him near again.
His eyes lock on mine in the mirror, clearly daring me: You can have more. Earn it.
I catch the glint of his watch as if it's permitting me to do something reckless.
No, Emma... Don't complicate your life. Don't let him steer it.
But what do you do when someone makes you feel alive? When your lungs inhale life again because their breath grazes your neck like it owns you?
Sometimes I wonder if I tore myself open, would the wound glow with all the nights I spent wanting him?
So just to remind you—it was only one second.
I cave, humiliatingly fast. I snatch his hand, forcing his fingers under the lace, right inside me.
He growls approvingly, curling them deep and hitting the right spot like he marked it himself as I cry out.
The world? Exquisitely quiet for once. And I want more.
My head falls back against his chest just as his other arm snakes tight around my ribs to anchor me.
I clutch his wrist, grinding, chasing, trying to bury his whole hand inside, until the elevator turns into slick sounds and my crying pleas.
Someone could call us, stop the elevator, but I don't care.
I throw my hands around his neck and roll my hips like waves against the hard line of his fingers, hitting me deep.
Ben hasn't moved—he's watching me in the reflection like I'm his favorite indulgence, his mouth on my ear, his hot breath seeping in.
When I turn my head with an invitation to kiss me, he shakes his head and forces another finger inside, spreading me wider.
"Oh god..." The lights start glitching behind my eyes as I roll my hips against his big hand, feeling the sharp pleasure building into something that will soon snap.
"Don't stop. Don't stop," I moan.
Then his voice slices through the haze, dry and taunting. "Oh, right. You called us nothing."
And his fingers slip out of me, the shift so sudden my hips are still chasing what's gone.
My body seizes, spine licked up with hunger so much that I whimper—I just freaking whimpered like a loser.
I turn to him and explode with breath ragged. "What?!"
Ben leans back and lifts his hand, tilting it so the light catches every glistening streak of me running down his skin.
He cocks a brow, like he's admiring it and then snorts, obviously calling my bluff. His eyes flick to mine as he slides those fingers into his mouth, pulling back slowly, savoring me with a low, satisfied groan.
When he lets them slip free with a sound, he gives me a merciless smirk. "That's what I'm doing—nothing."
I feel the rage flare so fast it scorches my eyes. I hope I taste like poison, hope he falls to the ground and starts choking, and I wouldn't save him for the fire in my belly, for my blood still screaming for him.
But the only one about to faint is me, and the mirror proves it: I'm flushed, trembling, and my chest is rising like surf.
The numbers above him tick up.
12. Twelve floors is all that it took for him to dismantle me, for me to know I never stood a chance, because I don't. He was engineered in some cruel lab to be my undoing.
13. I whip away, pretending I'm not one breath away from breaking the walls.
"You love this, don't you?" I bite out. "The game. The chase. That's all I've ever been to you."
He doesn't respond, just breathes behind me, loud enough for me to hear.
14. I haul my skirt down, trying to erase the ache pooling low. Erase him. I swear, this is the last straw.
15. "From now on," I spit over my shoulder, "stay the fuck away from me. I don't want to see your face. I don't want to ever hear about you. Don't want to... don't want to think you even exist."
16. Silence. Thick enough to choke on. For me to start breaking the walls.
17. "And by the way—" I start, but don't finish.
I nearly fly as his hand clamps around my neck and he pulls me flush against him, the other hand slipping inside my mouth, his fingers silencing me, tasting like me. My eyes shoot wide, shocked.
"How's that?" he rasps against my ear. "Don't you taste delicious? Makes me want to plunge my tongue inside you, taste it from the source."
"What the—"
"What?" he asks, molten. "You take my fingers like that and expect me to behave?"
I feel the bulge straining in his pants, proving how much he wants me and everything in me coils into a tight knot.
18. He grabs my jaw and tilts my face to his, eyes spearing mine. "Tell me what you really want. The truth."
Everything burns down to just us—not enemies, not two idiots. Just two hearts smoldering quietly for too many years. Why? Don't ask me. But one thing I know—
19. Goodbye, virtue. Goodbye, denial.
My hips answer for me, dragging against the thick, hard line of him, like I'm trying to etch him inside of me.
He doesn't expect it, stumbles back with a strained curse, and his voice comes out wild. "This? This is what you want, Emma? You want me to ruin you right here?"
20. Before I can answer, the elevator chimes. Loud. Cruel.
I let out a frustrated sound as the door opens.
Richard could walk in any second if he decided to be home, and here I am with my hair ruffled, skirt up, and begging to be bent over the mirror.
Before I have a chance to think, Ben turns me to face him, pinning me between the wall and his heated body.
His hand flies to the panel, pressing the top button, and he says, "Come with me."
The elevator closes on us again, and we go up.
I search in his face. "Where are we going?"
He holds my chin between his thumb and index finger. "You can hate me in the morning all you want, but I want to make you mine. Give me one night—that's all I need."
"One night," I echo, light-headed.
One night with Ben. One night to be only his.
I made many bad decisions in my life, and this might be one of them.
"Take me anywhere," I breathe.
I barely say it before our mouths crash, his kiss bruising my lips. I want it to bruise me.
Because the truth is, I'd go through every floor of hell with this man.