Page 77 of Only You and Me

I sigh. “I know Ben is a more mature man than he was when we first dated. He’s worked through the things on his end that made our relationship fail. But… but what if he decides I’m not worth it? Or someone else comes along who’s more together, less of a control freak, and he changes his mind about me?”

I’m not sure when I’ve been so open with someone about my insecurities, if ever.There’s just something about Rose that makes me able to relax and share.

We arrive back at Ben’s house and when we come around to the back patio, Rose stops and looks me square in the eyes. “Trina, I’m going to give you the same advice I would give my children in this situation. First, let me assure you, with Ben, you have no competition, and you never will. If you want him, you have him. Ask him and I’m certain he’ll tell you the same. But only you can decide if you should take the chance and be vulnerable with Ben about how you’re feeling, what your fears are. It’s scary to open yourself up, most definitely. But, in my experience, the most beautiful things in life have been those that came to me when I faced my fears head on and pushed them out of the way. That’s how to make room for the wonderful emotions in life—joy, peace, and love.”

CHAPTER26

TRINA

The sensation of sweat rolling down my back, combined with the humidity in the mid-August air making my entire body feel wet causes me to regret agreeing to go on a run with Ben. I groan audibly. And maybe a little louder than necessary.

We look at each other for a second, and Ben lifts an eyebrow. I face forward again to avoid tripping. Ben seems annoyingly unfazed by the fact that we’ve run two and a half miles breathing in this moist air and have another two and a half to get back to his house.

“You okay over there, Flynn?”

“No. This is miserable. It’s too hot. And it’s too easy for you,” I pant out. “Plus, what kind of maniac goes running at six a.m.?”

Ben laughs in response, but he’s not fooling me. I can see the stress on his face lately, the tightness in his jaw. I notice the way he checks the security system three times every night before bed and how when we go anywhere, he scans our surroundings constantly.

“Is it getting some of that tension out of you, though? Making you a little less stressed?”

“Not as much as kicking your ass when we sparred at my gym did.”

Ben chuckles. “Well, whenever you want to box and Fitz isn’t available, I’m happy to go with you. It’s good for my ego—keeps me in check when my badass wife knocks me down a little.”

I’m getting used to him calling me his wife. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t like it and how it makes my low belly flutter a little each time he says it.

Though doubts about whether this—us—can really work slide into my thoughts here and there, Ben seems to have grown up a lot over the years. He hurt me deeply then, but I believe he learned from it and would handle conflict and powerful emotions differently now.

Still, the underlying stress and lack of control I feel about this stalker situation weighs on me. Whoever the guy is, he’s smart enough to not get caught in the three and a half months Ben has been actively investigating the case.

After I started staying with Ben every night, the texts increased—sometimes up to thirty in a day—despite us changing my phone number. Photos continue to arrive at my house as well, usually once every week. It’s like this person wants me to know that I can’t escape their watchful eye no matter where I go.

Then things escalated when I left work earlier this week; I found the word “slut” carved into the paint of my car. I stupidly parked my car next to the shrubs bordering the station parking area—one of the few spots not in view of the station’s security cameras. At least the position next to the shrubs assured none of my colleagues saw it.

When we arrive back at Ben’s house, I immediately head to take a shower. Even my underwear is wet from sweat. Gross.

When I’m done, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my hair, and then use a second one to dry off my body before throwing on my robe. It’s steamy in here despite the exhaust fan, so I open the bathroom door.

I find Ben standing there. Naked. For a few seconds, I’m tongue-tied because Ben Donley in the literal flesh is a sight to behold. He’s all lean muscle with a trim waist and muscular legs from all of his running. The muscles in his abdomen and chest aren’t bulky but well defined and clearly something he gets from adding some core work and weight training to his workout. And they are delicious.

I rake my eyes over him. Yes, I’ve seen him naked a lot recently. Somehow, it’s different, more sensual, as he stands still, unabashedly letting me drink him in. He must feel the same because when I look down at his cock, it’s standing at full attention.

I have to break this up or I’m going to climb him like a tree and get his sweat all over me.

When I look up at his face, he wears a knowing smirk. Cocky ass.

“How long have you been standing outside the bathroom door all creepy like?”

He moves closer, stopping less than a foot in front of me. His mesmerizing eyes hold mine captive even while he reaches into the shower with his left hand and turns the water on.

“Are we gonna pretend you weren’t just eye fucking me there for a minute?”

I roll my eyes, needing an excuse to break the eye contact, and I turn back to the mirror, remove my towel, and comb through my wet hair.

“You’re pretty sure of yourself there, aren’t you?”

When he moves to stand behind me, my body already expects the nearness and hums with desire. My eyes meet his in our reflection and I can feel his hard cock against my ass and low back. I fight to hold back a whimper.

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