Page 52 of Only You and Me

I toss a throw pillow at him. “My feet do not smell. Everything on me smells like roses.”

A boyish grin flits across Ben’s face, and my heart flutters a bit. He used to smile like that all the time when we were together that summer. I forgot how much I loved that grin of his.

He hands me the remote. “All right. Climb back up on this couch, you sore winner. Queue up the show while I get started massaging those feet.” He pats his lap, and I suddenly remember that in order to have him rub my feet, they’re going to have to rest on his lap. Over his um… his…

“Earth to Trina,” Ben teases. “Where’d your mind go just then?”

My heart is racing, and I send up a silent prayer that he can’t see it bounding away in my carotid pulse on my neck.

“Nowhere.” I sit back on the couch and get the show ready, pressing play, then gingerly put my feet on Ben’s thigh, taking great care not to move too close to center.

About ten minutes into the episode, I’m so enthralled by the storyline and so relaxed by Ben, using his thumbs to work the knots out of my arches, that I accidentally moan out loud. I pray to all that is holy that Ben didn’t hear me, but when I sneak a peek over at him and see his impish smirk, it’s obvious he did.

“Hey, don’t blame me. You give a fantastic foot rub.”

The fifteen minutes pass and my feet feel better than they have in forever. Ben doesn’t stop and I’m sure not going to remind him the time is up. Not even when he moves from my feet up to my ankles… and then my calves.

To be honest, by the time the episode is almost over, Ben has given everything below my knees a thorough rubdown. Damn if I’m not totally turned on now as well. I know it’s just a very lower body rub, but the sensation of his hands on me and the attention to detail the man gives has other parts of my body aching to be touched. Especially now that I remember how good he is with his hands.

I need to shut this down. I cannot let this happen with him. He’s my husband, for God’s sake. He’ll get the wrong idea.

I hastily shut off the TV and practically jump to a seated position.

“I’m tired. I think I’m gonna go to bed.” I don’t look at him while I’m talking, but when I stand and turn toward him, he’s staring at me with hooded eyes, a softness in them I can only describe as bedroom eyes.

Less than ten minutes later, we’ve double checked the locks and alarms and have walked upstairs. My bedroom comes first, so when we get to it, Ben says goodnight and continues down the hall.

“Ben?” I say when he’s a few feet away.

He turns and looks at me. “Yeah?”

Don’t ask. Don’t ask.

“What would your prize have been if you won tonight?”

A shy smile I’ve hardly ever seen on this usually confident man lifts the corners of his mouth. “I was gonna ask for a goodnight kiss,” he practically whispers.

I fix my gaze on him, and we stand looking at each other for several long seconds. I pad over to him, step up on my tiptoes, and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight,” I whisper. I leave him standing in the hall while I escape into the safety of my room.

An hour and a half later, I’ve tossed and turned, willing sleep to come, but there’s a frenetic energy in me that refuses to allow me to drift off. I’ve tried touching myself to ease some of the tension, but it helped very little. My body won’t be fooled. It knows what it wants and tonight, it’s not me, or even my trusty electric friend, that can satisfy this itch.

Hot and irritable, I climb out of bed and head downstairs to get something to drink. Only when I get to my kitchen, there’s a soft glow coming from the open refrigerator. And it illuminates Ben’s body, clad only in boxer briefs and nothing else as he peers into the fridge.

I should turn around and sneak back to my bedroom. But I don’t. I should alert him I’m here, but I don’t. Not immediately, anyway. I watch him for several long seconds, taking in what a gorgeous specimen of a man he is with rippled back muscles and a tapered waist I’m sure comes from his dedication to long distance running.

I clear my throat, deciding it’s better to make my presence known before I whimper at the eye candy before me.

Ben spins at the sound I make, and he lets the refrigerator door shut. Now only the light of the full moon shining in the window illuminates the room. Somehow, it’s even more sensual than seeing him in the brighter light of the fridge.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just coming down for something to drink.”

Ben chuckles. “You weren’t interrupting. I wasn’t doing anything clandestine. I was looking for something to drink, too.”

“Oh.” It’s all I can get out.

Jesus, what is wrong with me? I know that it’s been a while since I’ve been with a man seeing as how I’m married and such now, and I can’t even remember my wedding night. But I’m a confident woman. I’m aware of what I bring to the table and yet something tells me that being with Ben now that we’ve both got some maturity under our belts would be life altering.

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