Accidental Sex Goddess (14 page)

“You keep saying that.” He skimmed his gaze over her, reminding her that she was closer to Mark’s type now than she’d ever been before. “How do you know what my type is?”

A bubble of laughter burst from her lips. “This is so ridiculous.”

“What?”

“You’re jealous of Ben, Ben’s jealous of you. You’re both so convinced I want the other and as much as you hate it, neither of you really wants me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He looked at his hands. “You don’t see what you have with my brother transforming into something more?”

Reese swallowed hard. The last two weeks not-withstanding, it had been years since she’d allowed herself to consider having something more with Ben. But just because her libido suddenly had ideas of its own didn’t mean it was any better an idea now than it was during her hopeless puppy-dog years.

“I’m not interested in being anything more than Ben’s friend.”

“That gets me halfway there,” he muttered. He gave a half smile and looked at her through dark lashes. “What about me? Are you interested in being more than my friend?”

She thought of step six, sitting in her phone as the latest text message from Halie. “Mark, I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

“I’m only asking for a date.”

“Okay,” she said cautiously.

“Next weekend? We start with dinner, maybe head to that drive-in outside of town before it closes up for the season.”

Dinner and a drive-in movie with Mark Hawk—a fantasy date. So why did the idea seem no more than a means to an end? Why was she more interested in being able to tell Halie she’d completed step six than she was in the date that would get her there? “It’s a deal then.”

His smile turned into a full-fledged grin, changing his face from handsome into drop-dead, take-me-now gorgeous. “Who’s the luckiest brother now?”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Do you know how
horny
chinchillas are?”

Ben didn’t know, but he had a feeling Whitney was about to tell him. Since listening to a horny chinchilla story beat joining the other wedding guests for the YMCA, he asked, “Seriously?”

“Yes!” Whitney replied, blue eyes widening and a smile spread across her face. “I mean, I got this thing as a pet for my
daughter
, and every time I turn around, he’s sitting in his cage—” She looked over each shoulder and lowered her voice. “—
pleasuring
himself. How am I supposed to explain that to my daughter?”

Ben chuckled politely. He really wanted to like Whitney. A tall redhead with big baby blues and a great smile—and an excellent body. She was Ben’s type in every way except the one that counted. But when she’d asked him to accompany her to this wedding, he’d broken a cardinal dating rule by saying
yes
. Had he been so desperate for a date?

His phone buzzed, alerting him to a text message. He ignored it.

Whitney smiled. “You are a saint for coming with me tonight.” She shook her head as the DJ encouraged everyone to come out to the dance floor for a slow number. “I know this isn’t most guys’ idea of fun.”

Ben shook his glass. “Hey, there’s free beer. What guy doesn’t like that?”

She grinned. “And that’s why I like you.” She shot a glance over her shoulder and waved to an elderly couple heading toward the exit.

Lucky schmucks
.

“I’ll be right back. I’m going to say
hi
to the Conners.”

When she was away from the table, he pulled his phone from his pocket.

Message from Reese Regan.

He tapped the screen to open it, but when he read the message, the smile her name inspired fell from his face.

Long day. Just leaving the office. Heading to your place to use your tub.

The words evoked a vivid image of a sudsy, naked Reese soaking in his master bath. Wet. Naked. His.

He shook his head. Not
his
. Maybe he wanted Reese. Maybe the image of her in his tub had his cock hard faster than a naked woman promising a blow job. Maybe she’d been the exclusive star of his fantasies lately. But she wasn’t
his
. She’d made that perfectly clear.

He frowned at his phone then keyed in a response.
You never did tell me what your big secret was
.

What secret
?

The one your sister told Halie. The reason Halie was so anxious to make you into one of her slutty converts.

He took a sip of beer and waited for a response. When none came, he typed.
Tell me. A trade for the tub.
He wanted to know. But more than that, he wanted her attention. She’d been avoiding him—canceling morning workouts, turning down invitations to meet him at Luke’s bar. She was too busy with work, she said.

It’s stupid. Embarrassing
.

Try me,
he typed.

Was she too busy, or was she avoiding him? And how pathetic was he that he was going to rope her into a texting conversation just because he missed her so damn much?

Just when he thought she wasn’t going to reply, his phone buzzed.
I’m bad at sex. A cold fish
.

He caught himself laughing out loud.
Ridiculous
.

Maybe. Still true
.

How do you figure? Is this all based on that asshole Lance
?

Lance isn’t the only guy I’ve been with
.

Right. He knew that. They may have spent six years pretending that night between them never happened, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten it.
Exactly, and I recall your performance as far above average
.

You’ve idealized it in your memory then
.

Had she just called
him
a bad lover?
Then I demand a rematch. To set the record straight
.

Nice try, but it wouldn’t change anything
.

I don’t believe people can be bad at sex, Reese. People can be bad together—and for the record, we weren’t—but not bad at sex. Who told you that
?

He glanced up to make sure Whitney was still chatting with the other guests. When she made an apologetic face and held up a finger, he was grateful.

No one told me
.

He believed that about as much as he believed Lance wasn’t an idiot.
Bullshit. Someone told you or implied it
.

This conversation is not headed where I hoped
.

Spit out what you mean and I’ll get it back on track
.

He watched the clock on his phone and sipped his beer. Three minutes passed before she sent her reply.

I’m saying I’ve never had an orgasm with a man
.

He blinked at his phone but his brain couldn’t come up with a response.

I told you that you didn’t want to know
.

I’ve heard a lot of women can’t during sex,
he typed. She had during other stuff. Definitely.

Never
.

He looked around. No sign that he was being punked but he still couldn’t be sure.
So you don’t count…us?

There’s nothing to count
.

The hell there wasn’t. He’d been there. He’d heard her, watched her face.
Um…I think your memory is failing you.

There’s nothing wrong with my memory
.

Hell, this was embarrassing.

His phone buzzed with a new message from her.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you
.

He shifted in his seat.
Now I’m going to question every woman I’ve ever been with. You were very…convincing
.

Thanks, I guess. And think of all the practice I’ve had since then
.

Ben ran his hand down his face.
So…Never at all
?

Ha! No, I’m completely capable. Just never with someone else
.

Ben let out a long breath. Hell if that didn’t feel like a challenge he was itching to take up.

Now you know. I will be stealing a bottle of wine as payment
.

A second later his phone buzzed again.
I don’t want to interrupt if you hoped to bring your date home. You’re sure you’re okay with me using your tub
?

Only if you take pictures.
A smile tugged at his lips as he keyed the reply.

He watched Whitney hug the old couple as he waited for Reese’s next text. Whitney caught his eye and grinned. She’d made it clear that she had a sitter for the night and a room upstairs. It was an invitation he should have been jumping at. Instead he was greedily awaiting another text message.

His phone buzzed.

Don’t joke. That’s probably one of my ten steps
.

As he typed, he knew he wouldn’t be spending the night with Whitney, even if it was the smart thing to do. He punched
send
on his message:
Need a photographer
?

***

Reese took a long sip of her wine before sinking deeper into the hot bubble bath. Between shopping, primping, and long days at SGI, all she’d wanted to do was go home and sink into a hot bath. Problem was, her tub was small and about as relaxing as a stone-lined casket. She’d decided without much thought to swing over to Ben’s and take advantage of the jetted tub in his master bath. He never used the thing, and she knew he’d be out late at that wedding.

Need a photographer
?

He was joking, of course. But his suggestive remarks had started feeling less funny and more serious. And instead of making her laugh they made her…hot.

She hadn’t responded. But being in his house after the suggestion—after the kiss, after the tension that was so thick between them she wanted to lap it up like a cat with a bowl of thick cream—suddenly, her mind was spinning with images of Ben, a camera, and her nude body.

The idea of nude pictures would have horrified her just a couple of weeks ago, but now it was an erotic experience she wanted. Ached for.

Had she changed so much in a short time?

And the fact that she wanted
Ben
to be the one behind the camera?

When her cell rang, she snatched it off the side of the tub and answered it without consulting the caller ID.

“Hello?” she said, too lazy with fantasy to open her eyes.

“Is this Goldilocks?” It was Ben’s voice, and her body, already primed, grew aroused at the familiar, thick timbre.

“Depends who’s asking.” A smile curled her lips. She peeled her heavy lids from her eyes to check the bathroom door, but it was still closed.

“This would be the bear whose wine you’ve been drinking.”

“Was yours the wine that was too hot, too cold, or just right?”

His chuckle warmed something in her. “If I were to judge by the half empty bottle on the counter, I’d say my wine’s alright. How’s the tub?”

“Glorious.” She stretched out again, moaning in pleasure. “Pack your things. Someone needs to live in this house who can appreciate it.” She looked at the door again, wondering if he was on the other side. “How was the wedding?”

“Pretty typical.”

“Mmm,” she said. “Make out with any bridesmaids?”

“Only a few,” he said. “Most of the night, I was enjoying the company of a bridesmaid who was detailing the escapades of her pet chinchilla.”

“I hear they’re horny little creatures.” She cared more about his date than she was comfortable with. “Did you bring her home with you?”

“Why would I have done that when I knew Goldilocks was here waiting for me?”

She heard clunking on the other side of the door. Shoes being dropped to the floor. An image of a bare-chested Ben flashed in her mind. It was nearly midnight and he was probably getting ready for bed. The weekend they’d roomed together on that winery tour, he’d slept shirtless in flannel pants. Was that what he wore alone? Maybe he just wore his boxers. Maybe he was the kind of guy who would slide between the covers completely nude.

Water sloshed around her as she sat up. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Relax,” he said. “Someone needs to get some use out of that tub.”

Her muscles already resembled goo too much for her to protest and she sunk back. “Thanks,” she said simply.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you if you got the next step.”

“Yesterday.”

“And…?”

And her plans with Mark would take care of it.

“Come on,” Ben said. “Tell me.”

“You just want to
help
me more.”

“Damn right I do.”

Her stomach flipped. She wanted everything his words insinuated. “But what if it’s not something you’ll do?”

“Like what?”

The jets massaged her muscles, working her soreness and her worries away. “Like phone sex.”

Ben groaned. “Hmm. I guess I’d be willing to suffer through that.”

“Yeah?” The warmth circling in her belly sank deeper.

“I’m a good friend like that.”

“I guess that’s lucky for me.”

He chuckled. “Ever done it before?”

“No.” She closed her eyes, something hot and nervous and needy rushing through her. “Are you out there? Just on the other side of the door in your room?”

“Would it be better if I wasn’t?”

She ignored the question, not knowing the answer herself.

“I was at the reception when I got your text.” His voice had dropped lower and it came out a little gruff, a little gravelly. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be stuck watching an anniversary dance and get a text from a beautiful woman that she’s waiting at your house naked?”

Reese bit her lip. “I didn’t say I was naked.”

“Aren’t you?”

She swallowed as her breathing became shallow. “I am currently dressed in some very fashionable bubbles. Halie would approve.”

She was trying to be flip, to make the conversation turn away from the high danger zone where he’d been directing it, but Ben groaned, and this time there was no question in her mind what kind of groan it was.

“I couldn’t even enjoy the open bar after that text.”