Page 62 of Summer Reading

Even with my closest friends, like Em, I felt self-conscious about my dyslexia and the weird ways it cropped up in my life, but with Ben I simply felt okay. His acceptance was so completely without judgment or reservation. I wondered if his mother had taught him that outlook, or maybe it was self-taught from growing up with an artist. Either way, I appreciated it so much.

He plated the cheesecake while I prepared our coffee. He handed me the book and picked up the tray. I led the way to the front porch. We chose to sit beside each other on the love seat. There was a reading lamp on his side, which I was certain was there for Stephanie to read in the evening on the porch. The sound of Tyler’s music was mercifully muted.

We sipped coffee and shared the cheesecake. Ben pushed the last bite to me and I let him. Very gracious of me, I know.

We settled back into the soft cushions, and Ben reached for the book. He opened it and held it with one hand, lifting his other arm up, inviting me in. I curled up into his side, and we both put our feet on the coffee table, relaxing into the space as if it had been made just for us. I didn’t think I’d ever felt as content as I did in that moment.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded, eager to listen.

His voice was deep and resonant, painting pictures with the words that invited me through the portal he spoke of, and I was happy to follow wherever his words led me.

The banter between the hero and heroine made me laugh, and the angst of the heroine’s inner struggle spoke to me. I knew how she felt, an outsider, trying to find her way in a world that could be cold and cruel. But the hero understood her, he was there for her, despite his own pain. My heart broke for him as he tried to leave his past behind and find something new with her.

The sky darkened. Streetlights popped on. Pedestrians passed by on their way home from dinner or visits with friends. Ben read on, pausing only now and then to glance at me after a funny line or a particularly poignant scene.

I nestled into his warmth as the summer night cooled. His hand moved up and down my arm in a soothing motion that didn’t actually soothe as much as it made me aware of him. The rough rub of his calloused fingers on my skin, the masculine scent of him, the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. I felt as if this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

The heroine of the story was in Paris, and as Ben read, I could see the lights of the city, feel the cool air, and revel in the moment she and her companion decidedto celebrate what had been a disastrous night for her by going to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I had never been to Paris, but the author’s words put me there.

When the couple slow danced on the top of the tower, listening to Édith Piaf sing, I pressed closer to Ben as if I was in the story with them. His voice dropped as he described the heroine, taking the initiative to kiss the man she was with even though he wasn’t the man she had come to Paris to find.

My own heart hammered in my ears, and I felt the heroine’s desire bubble up inside of me as if it were my own, wooed by Ben’s voice as he lingered on certain words, drawing out the feelings of the characters and igniting my own longing for this man sitting beside me.

When the scene ended, Ben paused. He glanced at me, and I saw the same heat in his gaze that I knew must have been in mine.

“Oh hell,” he said.

He tossed the book onto the seat of the chair beside us and pulled me up onto his lap. I didn’t even have a chance to get settled before his mouth was on mine and he was kissing me as if I was everything he had ever wanted in life.

I knew exactly how he felt. My hands dug into his wavy dark hair and I marveled at its softness beneath my fingers. His clean-shaven face was already sprouting stubble, and the rough rub against my skin kicked my pulse into high gear. His lips moved from my mouth tothat sweet spot behind my ear and then slid down the side of my throat to nestle in the curve of my shoulder.

A moan escaped from my lips, and I heard him hum in response as his mouth moved lower to the exposed skin above the neckline of my dress. I arched my back, wanting more.

“Ahem.”

I didn’t register the new sound. Nothing could penetrate the haze of lust that had engulfed me.

“Ahem.”

I would have ignored it, but Ben didn’t. Instead, his mouth left my skin. I felt feverish in the cool night air as he raised his head. He looked past me toward the front door, and seeing the chagrin on his face, I turned.

Standing with his arms over his chest, looking like a dad who was busting his kid for breaking curfew, stood Tyler.

“Now that I’ve got your attention,” he said. There was a laugh tucked into his voice. “I need to ask what your intentions are toward my sister, Ben.”

Ack!

I rolled off Ben’s lap with all the grace of a turtle stuck on its back.

“Tyler!” I squawked. “What are you doing out here?” I tried to sound indignant, as if I hadn’t been the one caught making out on the front porch.

“Protecting my sister’s virtue,” Tyler said.

That surprised a laugh out of me. My virtue had been gone for a while.

“We were just reading,” I said. This was, quite possibly, the most ridiculous thing I had ever said for a variety of reasons.

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