Page 34 of Blame It On Midnight

She was a tall woman and still had to tip her head back to see his face. Collins thought he might kiss her. Or touch her. Or do something to her. He slowly reached a hand up and brushed away a lock of hair from her cheek. His fingers never touched her skin, and yet, a bolt of desire shot through her.

She should leave him here. Tell him to call a friend for a ride home. She should banish him from her mind. Tell her body to forget what it felt like to have him inside her.

Instead, Collins clicked the truck fob, and the vehicle chirped. Then moved past him. Benton joined her, and once they were buckled up, she drove back to Duffer’s Place. She wasn’t standing on that edge anymore.

She’d just jumped across it.

Chapter Eleven

Collins was nervous. The kind of nervousness that made her skin slick with cold sweat. The kind that made her stomach roll and messed with her thought process. She drove ten miles under the speed limit all the way to Duffer’s Place. Then she parked in a NO PARKING spot but was too embarrassed to move the truck, so she hopped out and started for the porch. Maybe Benton would call a friend to come and get him. Maybe he’d disappear into the night, and she wouldn’t have to face the overwhelming fear that had found a home inside her.

This was new territory. Putting herself out there like this without the cover of darkness or the illusion of anonymity. She’d practically laid herself bare, and she paused at the door. Jesus, he was two steps behind.

Exhaling shakily, she walked inside the house. The foyer was dimly lit with a small lamp on the front desk, casting an even smaller circle of light. Carefully, she made her way to the stairs, very aware of the man who followed in her steps.

Her boots were quiet on the worn hardwood as she crossed the landing to her bedroom door. She managed to get the key in without too much trouble and opened up, then pushed inside before she made an ass out of herself. Stumbling in the dark, she walked over to the bedside table and turned it on, then took a moment to try and calm her fast-beating heart. It was no use, and she gave up.

She tossed her purse and turned around.

Benton stood just inside the room, his tall frame and wide shoulders took up so much space and air, she struggled to draw breath.

“Wine?” she asked, hating how high and tinny her voice sounded.

His dark eyes glittered, and he slowly shook his head. “No, thank you.”

“Water?”

“I’m good.”

She moved to the small fridge near the sitting area. God, her mouth was so dry it felt like sandpaper. She grabbed a bottle for herself and gulped it down, swiping at the drops that didn’t make it.

“Are you okay?” His voice was gentle, and her insides liquified. Seriously, how was she not a puddle of flesh and bone right now? He moved closer.

She tried to smile, but her face felt plastic. Instead, she played with the empty bottle in her hands and said nothing.

“We don’t…” Benton swore under his breath. “We don’t need to do this.”

“I want you.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and ashamed at how childish she sounded, she glanced down. He wasn’t a toy for fuck sake.

The air still crackled with that unmistakable energy that seemed to follow her around when he was near. It settled over her shoulders. Made her shiver even though the room was warm. The AC didn’t work all that well in a house as old as this one.

“Hey.” His voice was rough, with that low timbre that did funny things to her body. She felt his hand on her chin and was forced to look up at him. “It’s late. You just worked a ten-hour shift slinging beer to a bunch of yahoos and I…”

Her eyes were on his mouth. “And you?” she prompted softly.

“I could use some sleep if we’re being honest.” His hand slid up the side of her face, and she rested her cheek against it. He was so warm and strong. He feels so right.

“That’s a big bed. Why don’t we get some shuteye and see how things shake out in the morning? There’s nothing wrong with taking things slow.”

Could there be a more perfect man on the planet?

No. Nope. Nowhere on this earth would she find someone like Benton Bridgestone.

“Okay.” Collins moved back. She stepped out of her boots. Then undid her jeans. Shimmied out of them. She lifted her black T-shirt over her head and tossed it on the pile at her feet. Those dark eyes of his were still on her, and shadows from his long lashes touched his face.

Her mouth was still dry. Her body was a jangle of nerves as she stood in front of him in a skimpy pair of pink undies and the matching bra. Could he see the pulse at her neck? Feel the heat from her body?

Benton slowly removed his boots. Shrugged out of his jeans and discarded his T-shirt. He was a God and stood in front of her wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers, the athletic kind that cupped everything. She noticed things and moved toward him. Her finger traced a scar on his left shoulder. Another one on his hip. Then it traveled to the snake tattoo on the side of his neck, where she lingered. His pulse was just as ramped up as hers.

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