Accidental Sex Goddess (12 page)

He inched a little closer. “Let me take you out.”

What was she waiting for? “Okay.”

Mark grinned. “Really?”

She shrugged. “Why not?”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Did she need to explain that she wasn’t interested in serious? He was Mark Hawk. He was king of “not serious,” right? “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Sounds good,” he said.

She strode across the bar and gripped Ben’s arm. He didn’t need to teach her how to pick up a guy. She’d already done it. “Hey.”

He dropped his gaze to where her fingers curled around his wrist. “Hey, yourself.”

The juke box clicked to an old Nine Inch Nails grind, and Reese’s hips started to sway to the beat. Good old tequila made any beat a dancing one.

Ben was looking at her funny.

“What?” Reese smiled, feeling light and carefree. “Come on.” She headed back to the alley so they could talk in private. He followed wordlessly.

When the door slammed shut behind them, she leaned her head against the brick of the building and closed her eyes, enjoying the contrast of her heated skin in the cool evening air. When she opened her eyes, Ben was studying her, that funny look still creasing the corners of his eyes.

“I’ve got it figured out,” she said. She was almost giddy with the thought of a date. It would be fun. It’d been so long since she’d just had
fun
with a guy. And she could do this. It really didn’t have to be complicated at all. Six years ago, when she’d woken up in Mark’s bed, she’d still been hung up on Ben, but things were different now.

Tomorrow she’d report to Halie and move on to step six. Heck, she was halfway there.

“You do?” Ben asked. His pulse thrummed at his neck.

Impulsive with tequila, Reese reached up and touched the pulsing skin. “Your heart’s pounding.”

“Yeah.” His gaze dropped to her mouth.

She cocked her head. “I’m going let Mark take me out.”

His jaw ticked. “Don’t be stupid, Reese.”

“Wha—”

He cut her off with his mouth. He cupped her face in his big palm and brushed his lips across hers. He was warm and gentle.

And from the first brush of his lips, she wanted more.

Maybe tomorrow she’d blame the tequila or maybe she’d blame the lingerie shopping or the dirty stories she’d been logging into her notebook. Maybe she’d blame their tragic beginnings and her endless months of waiting for him to want her, but right now she didn’t even need an excuse. She moaned against him, loving the feel of his mouth, the light scratch of his scruff. Ben was so painfully male. A hot and delicious, long-denied craving.

Ben slanted his mouth over hers and slipped his tongue inside. He tasted like beer. Like male. Like something wicked and addictive. He wasn’t one of those rushed and sloppy kissers. He kissed like it was making love. Like he had all the time in the world. Like his most important task was kissing her. It was a kiss she’d known once and had never forgotten.

He slid his hands under her jaw and into her hair.

Reese grabbed a fistful of his shirt in her hand and pulled him closer, thinking of his eyes on her in the dressing room, thinking of the only other night they’d kissed.

He slid a hand behind her ass and lifted her, pressing her between the wall and his body and nestling his hard-on right between her legs. She gave a moan of approval and rubbed her tongue against his, exploring his mouth for all she was worth. She reached around his neck and slipped her fingers into his hair, tugging gently. Groaning, he pressed himself even closer to her. She cursed the day denim was invented. She wanted
closer, closer
even as part of her brain told her this was a mistake, told her to end this before they ruined everything.

He tore his mouth from hers and latched onto her neck. Sucking, nibbling, tasting until her eyes closed and she arched into him.

His teeth grazed the shell of her ear. His breath was hot as he whispered, “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let
my brother
help you with the best parts of this program.”

Reese froze. “Ben.” She pushed at his chest and he backed away, lowering her softly to the ground.

Keeping a hand behind her head, he toyed with her hair.

Reese studied him. His face was serious, his eyes hot, pupils dilated when she asked, “What was that?”

“A kiss.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “A fucking good one.”

Her jaw worked, but none of the words that came to mind would do. “This is my fault. The lingerie shopping—”

“Was the best part of my weekend.” His mouth tipped up in a lopsided grin. “And I think you liked it too.”

God, had she. “We’re playing with fire.”

“We’re adults. We can manage a little fire.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth before she forced her eyes away.
Been there. Rejected by that
.

She swallowed and forced a smile. “Thanks. On to step six, right?”

He brushed a thumb over her lip. “Let me drive you home?”

Her mind was spinning—from the kiss, from the tequila, from the hard-edged craving pumping through her veins—and she knew she couldn’t drive herself. Mark had offered, but then she’d kissed Ben, and—
Oh, hell.
“Sure.”

Reese was vaguely aware of Mark watching them as they returned to the bar to retrieve her purse. She was vaguely aware of his eyes on them as they left together. But mostly she focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not making a big deal of the first kiss she’d shared with Ben since the day they met.

On the ride home, she did her best not to think about how pathetic she’d been in those early days of her
friendship
with Ben, those days when she was so sure he would come to his senses and she waited like a loyal dog.

She thought she’d wised up since then, thought she’d accepted that she and Ben were a much better friend match than romantic one. And yet one kiss later and she was twenty-one again and hopelessly crushing on the sweet guy who said all the right things, touched her in all the right ways, and wanted nothing she had to offer.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The day Reese had met Ben, she hadn’t expected to see him again—ever. She’d done a fantastic job scaring off the sweet guy who’d shown a little interest in her. And yet he’d shown up at her door at ten o’clock at night, staring at her mouth like he’d like to lick it.

“It’s late,” he’d said softly. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“Ben—right?” As if she could have forgotten.

He nodded.

Oh, hell, this guy was a master at sending mixed signals. His body language said he was ready to bolt but the way he was looking at her mouth was so darn hot. “Did you forget something?”

“Yeah.”

She waited several long heart beats then raised a brow. “What did you forget?”

“This.” He slid his hands into her hair and lowered his mouth to hers.

His lips were hot and soft and his thumbs stroked the edge of her jaw as she opened under him. Her hands found his chest and she curled her fingers into his shirt and tugged him closer.

He drew back, and his eyes burned into hers. This was the way men were supposed to look at women. This was the way she always imagined feeling and never had.

“We wouldn’t want you to forget that,” she murmured.

“This is crazy.” He touched his forehead to hers.

“Yeah,” she said, but she tugged his shirt again. “I’d invite you in, but that seems to scare you off.”

He groaned and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I wanted to. I want to now.”

His mouth was on hers as she walked backwards into her apartment. She heard the door slam, and slid her hands into his hair. She wasn’t the kind of girl to do this. She barely knew this man and she was ready to strip bare for him.

He pushed her against the wall and found the hem of her shirt. She lifted her arms over her head and he pulled it off.

She moaned against his mouth and tugged at his shirt, her hands sliding up and under the soft cotton and connecting with a solid wall of muscle and heat.

He pulled back and let her remove his shirt.

“Wow.” Her gaze was glued to his chest. Her jaw was on the floor. “You can’t be real.”

His lips tilted up in a grin and his eyes swept over her. “Let me prove it.”

Her stomach was doing some impressive acrobatics and everything south was nudging her to kiss him again. “I don’t even know you.”

He rubbed a lock of her hair between his fingers. “True.”

“I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Me either.”

Maybe she wouldn’t have believed him. Maybe she shouldn’t have, but his eyes drifted back up to meet hers and what she saw there was more than sincerity. It was pain and desire and vulnerability all wrapped up together.

Reese kissed him. She pushed herself up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.

Half a heartbeat later, he had her against the wall. His hot hands tortured her breast through her bra, his mouth doing wicked things to hers.

She wanted so much in that moment. She wanted this man, wanted his hands on her bare skin, wanted his weight on her.

He slid his hand over her bare torso, his calloused hands rough against her bare flesh until he was cupping her through the thin cotton of her yoga pants.

She moaned at the light friction he placed there—wanting this, wanting more.

“You’re so damn gorgeous,” he whispered against her ear. “I’ve seen you at the bar before today and have always thought so.” He moved his mouth to her neck.

“Why—” She gasped as he found her clit and pressed lightly. She arched to give him better access. God, this man was doing more for her through two layers of fabric than the last man she’d slept with had done skin to skin. “—why didn’t you introduce yourself?”

“I was stupid,” he said. “But I’m trying to remedy that.”

He dropped his head to her breast and sucked hard, drawing her nipple into his mouth through the thin satin of her bra.

“My bedroom—” She was cut off by a ringing phone.

“Sorry,” he grumbled. He dug his phone from his jeans and chucked it across the room. The phone silenced. “You were saying?”

“You’re crazy.” She wasn’t complaining. “The bedroom—”

Across the room, the phone clattered against the hardwood floor as it vibrated.

“Voicemail,” he explained.

“That’s not an angry girlfriend, is it?” She was joking, but he didn’t meet her eyes. She shoved him away. “You have a
girlfriend
?”

He stepped back and dragged his hand over his face. “Not exactly.”

She thumped his bare chest with the back of her hand. “This isn’t a gray area. You either do or you don’t.” She side stepped him and wrapped her arms around herself. “That’s why you wouldn’t come up earlier. That’s what your friend was trying to warn me about at the bar.”

“Can I explain?”

She snatched his shirt off the floor and shoved it at him. “Go.”

Across the room, the phone beeped.

Ben winced. “She cheated on me—”

“So you thought you’d return the favor? Well, I’m flattered but no thanks.”

“It’s over between us.”

Reese found the couch and propped herself against the backside. “It’s over?”

“Yes.”

Silenced stretched between them until she said, “Look, there was a reason you walked away when I invited you up earlier. They say the first instinct is the best—”

“Walking away
wasn’t
my first instinct,” he growled. “But it’s fresh, and I didn’t want you to be some…rebound thing.”

She lifted her head to look at him—dark eyes, bare chest, his shirt balled up in a fist at his side. He was too perfect—the kind of guy she admired from afar. “I don’t want to be something you’ll regret.”

“The only thing I would regret,” he said, crossing to her in two long strides, “is leaving here without kissing you again.”

“Ben—”

His mouth took hers and she didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to. She wanted those rough hands on her body, that hot mouth kissing her.

They fumbled their way toward the couch, hands pushing away clothing, mouths seeking out exposed skin.

Reese’s leg slammed into something. “Ouch.”

“Are you okay?” He dropped to his haunches before her and ran his hands over the backs of her thighs.

“I think the end table attacked me,” she whispered.

“I better take a closer look.” He stared up at her, eyes hot as he found the waistband of her yoga pants and peeled them from her hips.

Her heart tripped at the sight of him, at the feel of his hands, at the way he watched the path of the dark cotton as he slowly lowered it to the floor.

She stepped out of her pants and stood before him in her blue satin bra and white cotton panties. These weren’t undergarments made to seduce a man, but judging by Ben’s eyes alone, she might as well have been in black lace.

His hands returned to the back of her thighs. “Let me look,” he said, nudging her to turn around.

She turned and closed her eyes against the sensation of his fingers trailing over the angry spot.

“That’s going to bruise,” he said softly.

She cast a glance over her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“It’s a shame to damage such beautiful skin.” He put his mouth against her skin, pressing soft kisses and making her forget the pain entirely.

When he opened his mouth and ran tongue and lips up her thigh, she gasped. His fingers traced the edge of her panties along her ass and under to the inside of her thighs and her fingers curled into the back of the couch.

Her panties were damp where his fingers skimmed across them, her legs growing unsteady beneath her.

“Turn around.” His voice was deeper, rougher than before.

She turned to face him, looked down to him as he worshipped her body with his eyes.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m sure.”

He positioned her hands behind her back and held both wrists in one hand. He pressed his open mouth between her legs and found her clit through her panties. She whimpered and tried to move, but he tightened his hold on her wrists and moved his mouth against her.