Why Don’t You Stay? … Forever: McLaughlin Brothers, Book 2 Page 3

  I know how to get cactus thorns out of flesh, because I’ve had the problem before. Prickly pear can be nasty, driving dozens of tiny needles into the skin. Fortunately Ben hasn’t gotten a big dose. I pour water and antiseptic on his hand, pat his skin carefully dry with a towel, and then unroll the duct tape.

  “Seriously?”

  “Works like a dream.” I gingerly lay the tape across the back of his hand, where the needles stand up, then lightly tap it down. “Ready?”

  “No.” Ben gives me a wavering smile. “But what the hell?”

  I grasp the tape, and yank. He grunts with pain. The spines come out—most of them anyway. I triumphantly fold up the tape several times and drop it into the trash.

  We’re not done yet. I take up the tweezers, bend over his hand and start to gently work out the half dozen spines still in his skin.

  “This is the weirdest date I’ve ever been on,” Ben says, his breath ruffling my hair.

  A date? Is that what this is? My heart thumps, and I try to quiet it. No, he’s joking. Right?

  “Me too.” I drop each spine down the sink. Ben’s hand is red from the duct tape, but there’s not much bleeding. “Not that I go on many. Too busy.”

  “Dancing takes up a lot of time?”

  “Only if you want to be good at it.”

  I concentrate on the spines and the tweezers. I don’t want to talk about my failed love life with Reuben, a dancer who is almost as good as Dean but without the winning personality. Which I discovered too late.

  Reuben is why I remodeled the bathroom and the rest of the house. I couldn’t afford to move to a new place once Reuben left—I inherited this house from my aunt, and I didn’t want to go anywhere anyway. This is my house, and I’d loved my aunt. She’d been my surrogate mom and my counselor after my parents moved to Ohio when I started college here. I used the excuse of replacing aging fixtures to erase the memory of Reuben from it.

  Ben leans close to watch me. His hands are hard but not rough—he taps computer keyboards all day. But he isn’t frail or soft. I’ve watched him haul around heavy pieces of hardware and tear apart and replace walls to rewire the network.

  His warmth distracts me. I miss a spine and have to go back for it.

  Our heads almost whack together. We pull back, grinning, but now we’re an inch apart, my hands stilling.

  Ben draws a finger along my jaw. I surge closer to him.

  The touch of his breath, then his lips, makes me drop the tweezers, which rattle in the sink.

  I let them stay there while Ben kisses me.

  My body had been tired from dancing, but a new energy surges through me, one that has me pulling Ben into my arms. His lips part mine, and the kiss turns deep.

  My pounding heart burns. I want to gasp for breath, but I’d have to break this phenomenal kiss to do it.

  Ben pulls me closer. The sink digs into my hip, but I don’t mind as I’m now standing hard against him. I feel something else hard, sense the need in his touch.

  I ease from the kiss. Ben opens his eyes, the intensity in them igniting the yearning I’ve had for weeks.

  I want to move this to the bedroom, but I’m far too timid to ask. Ben doesn’t say a word, but when he looks at me, I know he feels the same.

  He takes me by the hand and leads me there.

  My bedroom is girly, but it’s what I wanted after Reuben departed. He’d have hated the gauzy bed hangings and all the pillows, the embroidered flower pieces my aunt had framed for the wall. It had felt good to re-hang the embroidery done by her hands once Reuben was gone.

  Ben is out of place in my room, but he doesn’t appear to mind. I toss throw pillows to the floor before Ben lays me down on the bed and comes over me. He takes his time, stroking my breast with one gentle hand while he kisses me.

  I slide my foot up his leg, indicating I don’t necessarily want to go slow. I’ve been lusting over Ben for a while—if this is going to happen, why wait any longer?

  I try to drag him down to me, but Ben disentangles himself. “Hang on a sec.”

  He lifts away, and I’m cold without him. I remove my glasses and put them on the nightstand, pretending I’m not worried he’s about to walk away.

  Ben digs his wallet from his back pocket and flushes bright red when he pulls a condom from it.

  I laugh. I can’t help it. He looks so funny—ashamed and pleased at the same time.

  “Austin insists I go packing, no matter what.” He tosses the condom to the nightstand and tucks away the wallet. “Even if I’m spending Saturday night alone at the grocery store. You never know, Austin says. He’s a dickhead.”

  “I see.” I’m giddy. “Do you seduce many women at the grocery store? I hear it’s a good place to pick up chicks.”

  “Chicks?” Ben’s smile crinkles his eyes. “Who the hell says that? And no. I don’t go out much.”

  “Me either.” I point my toes in my sneakers. “I’m always dancing.”

  “I bet you don’t mean at a club. Also a good place to pick up girls. Or guys. I hear.”

  I widen my eyes. “People go to clubs and dance? You mean like, with other people?”

  “That’s what I’m told.” Ben shrugs. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “We both like to stay at home then.” I hope I’m right. “That’s not such a bad thing.”

  “Lots of good things to do at home.” Ben yanks off his shoes. “Work on a program, catch up on reading. This.” He waves his hand at me and the bed.

  “There’s also talking, but I think we should do that later.”

  “Agreed.”

  Ben comes back down to me, shoeless, and we share another long, scorching kiss.

  This is really happening. I run my hands down his strong back, tugging his shirt out of my way so I can find his skin. He releases my mouth so he can kiss my neck, sending fire through my veins.

  I need this man. I haven’t needed in a long time. I realize I’ve been working hard at both the office and dance so I can ignore physical desires, or at least I tell myself I can ignore them.

  It’s been so long since I felt anything at all with a man that I believed myself numb. Now my heart’s banging, my body shaking. I’m excited for the first time in forever.

  Ben licks my throat. “You’re a paradox.”

  “No one’s ever called me that before,” I say nervously. “What do you mean? That is, I know what a paradox is …”

  Ben continues through my babbling. “You’re slender but so strong.” He runs a hand down my abdomen. “And at the same time, light. It’s like you flew when I watched you tonight.”

  “Thank you.” The greatest compliment a dancer can receive is that what we do seems effortless. It’s not—there’s grunting and struggle and pain—but we hide that under makeup and our stage face. But it should look effortless.

  Ben studies me, no smiling. “I’m not sweet-talking you, I’m serious. You have so much strength.”

  He makes me want to cry like a big, loopy baby. Strength, my ass. I’ve been swimming around, trying to make myself believe I’m wonderful without anyone else in my life. My own best friend.

  “So do you.” I rest my hands on his warm back. “How else could you lug all that computer stuff around?”

  Ben’s smile returns. “Now I know you’re shitting me.”

  I start to protest but he silences me with a fiery kiss. Fine by me. I wrap myself around him and enjoy the hell out of the moment.

  * * *

  Ben

  I can’t believe I’m on Erin’s bed, in her arms.

  She’s hot, and I’m dying for her but trying to be cool. I should take it slow, like Austin says a lady wants.

  To hell with that.

  She’s already stroking under my shirt, so I slide hers up. She helps, quickly wresting the shirt off over her head. I guess she’s in as much a hurry as me.

  I wasn’t wrong about her strength. Her abdomen is smooth, her shoulders tight. I wriggle my hand beneath her
black satin bra and unhook it. Erin zips it off before I have the chance to do it for her.

  Her breasts are plenty full enough for me—firm and apple-sized, fitting into the hand not stinging from the cactus. Her nipples are dark points, and I lean to take one in my mouth.

  I lick her skin, savoring, and suckle her nipple, liking how it tightens in my mouth. At the same time, she’s soft all over, skin like satin.

  Erin’s tugging open my shirt, so I rip the tie from my neck and toss it off. I struggle to disentangle my arms from the sleeves and then send the shirt to the floor after the tie.

  We’re chest to chest now, bare skin to bare skin. If my heart beats any faster she’ll probably call an ambulance.

  Next step … But I can’t stop kissing her, so the next step has to wait. I’m dying for her, so I can’t wait too long. Damn, that would be embarrassing.

  Erin has popped off her shoes while we’re kissing, and they hit the ground—thud, thud. I reach between us and undo the button of her shorts.

  I expect Erin to stop, maybe push me away, say we’re going too fast. She holds me closer instead, her fingers pressing my back.

  We kiss hungrily, no more teasing. I study Erin’s beautiful face, and something inside tells me this is right. The rightest thing I’ve ever done.

  I lift from her and glide her shorts down. While she raises herself on her elbows, watching me, I get out of my pants and underwear as fast as I can. I understand why people do this in the dark—I’m blushing like hell.

  She lets her gaze rest on my cock, which is sticking straight out. It isn’t blushing.

  Erin’s so beautiful that I stop thinking about myself and my embarrassment. I look at her, and nothing else matters.

  She’s so still as she surveys me. I think maybe we’ll freeze like this, staring at each other, nothing else ever happening—and then she slides off her underwear.

  I’m not sure how I get on the bed. To this day, I don’t remember. But I’m there with Erin, my knees on either side of her hips. I have the condom ready, sliding it on, Erin helping me.

  Now I’m with her, at her opening, she regarding me steadily with her arresting eyes.

  When she gives me her little smile, I know I am exactly where I should be.

  I softly kiss her while I ease inside.

  My world changes. Now I know I’ve waited all my life to be here, with Erin.

  Feeling takes over thoughts. She’s tight, sweetly tight, and I can’t contain my groans. From the way her face softens, I know she’s thinking this is right too. I kiss her, bracing myself on my arms, and start to love her.

  Chapter Four

  Ben

  She’s amazing, is my last thought before my body takes over.

  I’m kissing Erin, pumping into her. Her cries join mine as she meets my thrusts, her breasts soft against my chest.

  My knees are burning on the mattress, and our bodies are scalding where they join. I slide on her, and she holds me. We’re yelling, then laughing, then shouting again. Words rings through the room—her name, my name, incoherent bellows of joy.

  I could stay here the rest of my life. Erin’s holding me, her hands tight on my back. She’s kissing me, rising to me, nipping my chin.

  She’s beautiful. Being inside her fires me up hotter than anything has in my life.

  I feel my peak coming and try to prevent it, to suspend this moment. If I come too fast, I’ll have to leave her, and I never want to.

  Nothing helps. I want her so bad, I can’t stop. My body won’t let me.

  I curse softly, but I’m coming, thrusting so fast I’m pretty sure I’m shoving the bed across the room. Erin moves against me, and her cries are loud, she peaking at the same time.

  This is the best night of my life. I’m yelling her name, telling her how beautiful she is, how hot, how tight. I stop short of saying the L- word, but just barely.

  Erin’s wordless cries wind through mine. Her face is flushed, her hair tumbling down—I want to wrap myself in her.

  Erin’s gaze holds me, her eyes starry, as the last of my thrusts spiral down. Now we’re breathless, arms around each other, lips meeting in frantic need.

  I fall to her, and we roll onto our sides, kissing, nipping, licking, kissing some more, into the quiet of the night.

  * * *

  Erin

  I wake from a dark, hard sleep to find a warm lump beside me in the bed. I cuddle to it, instinctively wanting the comfort.

  As awareness trickles into me I realize it’s Ben, softly snoring. I remember the crazy sex we had before we both smacked into sleep, and I smile so hard my face hurts.

  It’s warm in the room, so I sneak out of bed to open the window. Nights are still decently cool in May, and a breeze wafts inside.

  Ben’s snores cut off, and he wakes.

  I quickly slide beneath the sheets, back to his side. “Just letting in some air,” I whisper.

  He rolls onto his back and scrubs his face. “I should go.”

  “Why don’t you stay?” I say quickly. “I mean, no reason for you to drive around in the wee hours. Stay for breakfast. Or, well, I don’t have any food, so we can go out.”

  He’s staring at me while I jabber like I’ve lost my mind. I’m pretty sure he’s going to bail, say It’s been fun, and take off.

  Then he slides the covers back up. “Sure.”

  “Good.” I settle myself on the pillow, drape one arm over his body as I nuzzle in his shoulder. “Too bad we only have one condom.”

  “Yeah. I’ll have to get some more.”

  I go quiet as my heart squeezes. Does he mean he wants to do this again? Soon?

  I hope like hell he does. Ben becomes quiet too, and I wonder if he’s spooked himself. I decide that the least said, the better, so I pretend to drift off to sleep.

  In a few moments, I feel his lips in my hair. “Good night, Erin.”

  I don’t answer, because I’m supposed to be asleep. But everything inside me is dancing.

  * * *

  In the morning, Ben and I shower. We do it together, with a lot of kissing and caressing. I learn that day that even if we decide not to have full-blown sex, we can sure do a lot. We touch, kiss, and stroke until we’re both high on pleasure, the water scouring us clean.

  Tired and damp, we dress and make our way to Ben’s truck to head to breakfast.

  My across-the-street neighbor, Mrs. Hampton, is out in her front yard, watering her roses. Roses bloom all through spring here, and her bushes are bursting with vibrant red, yellow, and pink.

  She stares at me, hose running, as Ben and I emerge from the house.

  “Erin?” she calls across our quiet street. “Good morning.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Hampton.” My face is hot, and I feel like a teenager caught making out with a boy. “This is Ben McLaughlin. A … friend.”

  “More than a friend, honey.” Mrs. Hampton flashes a knowing smile and goes back to watering. “Nice to meet you, Ben. Hope to see more of you.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Hampton,” Ben says without a qualm. “We’re off to get some breakfast. Want us to bring you anything?”

  Mrs. Hampton looks up in surprise, then nods a little more cordially. “Thank you. No, I don’t need anything. You have fun.”

  Ben opens the door for me to get into his truck, then climbs in the driver’s side. He waves to Mrs. Hampton, who stares as she raises her hand in return, the water from her hose splashing on the front walk instead of the roses.

  “Thanks for being nice to her,” I say to Ben as we pull out. “She was a good friend of my aunt, and she’s kind of protective of me.”

  Ben shrugs. “I’m nice to everybody. Plus, I like being the bad-ass who spent the night with a hot lady.”

  I shake my head. “You are so full of shit.”

  “No, I’m not. You’re one seriously hot chick.”

  I laugh as I recall our banter from the night before. “You need to get out of your computer closet more.”
>
  “Why? I like it in there.” Ben heads west on Glendale toward a breakfast place I’ve told him about. “My brothers never darken the door—too scared. But you can come in any time.”

  I don’t answer, but keep smiling.

  Inside, I’m a little uneasy. What happens when we go back to work Monday? Do we keep this a secret? Or will Ben reveal our liaison and open us to teasing from his entire family?

  Or will he even want to talk about it? Is this a one-night-stand, or what? I’m not sure, because I’ve never had a one-night-stand before.

  I decide to live in the moment. We head to my breakfast place on Seventh Street, where I go often enough to be greeted by name. The staff gawps at Ben, and I watch them decide that the shy girl finally came out of her shell.

  We’re served their signature pancakes, and the waitress brings me an extra muffin, on the house. She winks as she walks away.

  I break the muffin—blueberry, my favorite—in half, and share it with Ben. It feels nice, dividing things between us. I always dine here alone.

  “How’s your hand?” I ask him.

  Ben glances at it and wriggles his fingers, as though he’s forgotten his injury. “Fine. It’s fine.”

  “Good.”

  Wonderful. We’ve had wild, amazing sex, and suddenly we can’t exchange more than inanities.

  “I have a matinee at two,” I remark as we chow down on the pancakes and muffin.

  Ben checks his watch—a real one on his wrist, with a dial and hands, old-school. “It’s only ten. You won’t be late.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried. Just letting you know.” So it won’t be tense when we say good-bye. So you know I’m not leaving because I’m tired of this … whatever it is.

  “Want me to drive you?” Ben asks.

  My face heats. “You don’t have to. I do own a car.”