Page 48 of All of You

He took a big breath, then gently put a hand on my waist. He searched my face, and before I could think twice, or wuss out, or let my head explode, I nodded.

The descent of his head seemed achingly slow—literally like my lips were aching to connect with his, but he was moving in a way that gave me every opportunity to stop, to move, to tell him this wasn’t what I wanted.

His other hand came to my cheek, and then, we were kissing. My hands found his waist, then slid around and up his back as I stepped fully into his space. His lips were soft, his taste minty and warm, his hold on me gentle. He broke the kiss and pulled back just enough to look at me, but I urged him back down, one of my hands pulling that smooth jaw to me.

He kissed a little like I thought he would, a lot like a surprise. Something dominant and certain that I’d seen in the way he carried himself, in the way he interacted with others, but I’d never felt with me.

Or had I?

Every time he spoke to me, talked with me, he was straightforward. This kiss, the press of his body against mine, the pull of his hands on my back, in my hair, was nothing short of honest.

I let my hands glide against the skin of his back, sliding down along his spine and around to the taut muscles of his belly, if that’s even what it was called when formed like this. He stepped closer, practically overtaking me, holding me to him with a strength that surprised me.

I pulled back, wobbled a bit, but he steadied me with one hand still at the back of my head and the other locked around my lower back. We breathed together, looking back at each other. He was absolutely breathtaking with kiss-swollen lips and flushed cheeks, his eyes glittering back at me.

I cleared my throat, my nerves returning, if they’d ever left. “So… that’s done.”

He pressed his lips together like he was trying to resist, but then released me before he started laughing. His smile was practically paralyzing, so vibrant and beautiful.

“All right. Done.” He raised an eyebrow at me, as if trying to decipher my mood.

I was still too addled from the kiss, my heart galloping, my skin flushed.

Stepping back out of his grip, I let my eyes skate over his gorgeous torso one more time, and I tripped over a towel on the floor. He grabbed my arm before I hit the wall, and I got my feet under me. Then, he ducked down and forced me to look him in the eye, where I found pure amusement in the twist of his lips.

“So, I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.” My voice had that husky quality to it, one more piece of evidence for him that his kiss had literally and metaphorically knocked me off balance.

“I’ll just be a minute.”

I left the bathroom, moved out of his bedroom without a backward glance, and sat lightly on the edge of the dark gray couch of the living room.

That was…

That was…

My mind was a loop. His lips, his hands, his scent, his taste. Again.

His lips, his hands, his scent, his taste.

Again.

I had to knock this off before he came out and saw me, still downright unearthed by the cataclysmic event that had been Ben Holder kissing me. Particularly since, if he followed Nikki’s orders, we’d revisit that delicious happening in the next few hours. He’d be fully clothed, which felt like a loss on a couple of levels, but was for the best.

No one else gets to see that Ben is my own personal Abercrombie and Fitch model. Because yeah, he had the whole thing going on.

But it wasn’t just the physical. He was working his way in, right past the arm’s-length approach I took with pretty much everyone. He’d been compelling to me the first time we met. Now, he was unavoidable.

I stood and smoothed the tangles out of my hair, refusing to savor the fact that his hands had put them there. I took a deep breath, slowly let it out, and went to find Amanda so she could do my lips.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ben

My hand rested on her lower back, the smooth velvet of her dress the best thing I’d ever touched. She was smiling, stopping every once in a while to chat with someone who flagged her attention. She’d introduce me, I’d shake hands or nod, but I never moved that left hand.

She’d seemed thrown after the kiss, more discombobulated than put together, and for Whit Grantham, that was rare. In fact, I’d never seen her anything but on her game. So it gave me no small thrill to see her flustered, especially since it felt like my blood had turned to lava.

But when I came out and met her in the living room, fully dressed in my black suit, dark gray shirt, and black tie, she’d met me with a warm-ish smile that hadn’t quite reached her eyes. It was then I’d started questioning the memory on repeat in my mind since the moment she’d walked out of the bathroom.

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