Page 68 of A World Without You
“Right. But then I married a fuddy-duddy and bought all my clothes at Walmart and a night out was considered wearing my good jeans to the pub in town.” I raise my eyebrows at Bennett and he shakes his head lightly. “So you tell me, do I come on strong and flirty, or shy and alluring?”
He licks his lips and sets his cup on the counter. “You want me to tell you what I’d do?”
“Yes!” I shout with a breath of relief.
“If I were trying to win someone back I would find her and ask her if we could be alone and talk,” he begins, slowly running his tongue over his teeth, lowering his gaze into a sultry scowl. His palms grip the edge of the counter top. My eyes snap to the way his abdomen flexes and how the flex of his forearm pulses under his tattoo.
“Are you smoldering, Bennett? Oh my. Is this your smolder?” I tease, fanning myself with my hand and deflecting because my chest is getting warm, and I know my cheeks are burning red.
“Shut up,” he says, his voice low and raspy, and I’m certain I now know what a man growling sounds like, so I claw the air and growl back.
I think he’ll laugh. He doesn’t.
Instead, he steps around the island and pins me against the counter. One hand gripping the counter behind me and the other gently slides across my collar bone and along my jaw, tilting me so I’m looking right at him. It all happens so fast I can’t stop it. But more than that, I don’t want to. The touch is soft and gentle, yet I’m commanded by it. My heart is standing at attention, waiting on every word about to fall out of his perfect mouth.
“Then,” he begins, “when I get her alone, I’ll make sure she’s looking right at me...” he continues, staring down at me, and I feel like butter over an open flame. My skin is dripping from his touch, and my heart is pounding harder and harder without permission. The look in his eyes is predatorial yet full of longing and hurt. The kind of hurt that needs to physically feel the apology until forgiveness is fully received. I swallow against his palm as he lowers his mouth to my ear, unable to remove my gaze from his. “And I’d make sure she knows I’ve measured every moment I was without her. That I’ve compared every kiss, every touch, every laugh to her very presence.”
He pulls back slightly, still studying me while I’m frozen under his touch and gaze. His breath lands on my cheek, and I can smell the pumpkin spice and coffee on his breath, the warmth of his skin, the ache throbbing in his chest. “And I’d tell her, every moment without her has been unbearable, and the only thing that got me through every day was knowing that once I had the honor of being loved by her...”
He moves closer—so close—our lips are almost touching, and I know I should retract my entire body but apparently Bennett is very good at this and I’m frozen under his spell. “Then I would kiss her until she begged me to love her again.”
He drops his hand and moves back. All the heat I felt from his hands leaves me in a cold sweat and with a very confused mind.
“Oh, well, that was...” I clear my throat, collecting my bearings, “informative. Bennett. Goodness gracious.” I collect my hair in my hand and drape it behind my shoulders, sitting straighter as he returns to his side of the countertop. Pretending his actions and the look in his eyes didn’t almost unravel me at 5:30 a.m., I ask, “Is that really what you’d do?”
He clicks out an almost laugh. “No, weirdo. If I were you, I’d be on my knees begging for forgiveness.”
I laugh-groan and bury my face in my hands.
“I got you, though,” he says, grinning and pointing at me over the counter.
I peek through my fingers. “I hate you.”
“You don’t,” he says, sipping his coffee.
“No,” I confess, dragging my fingers through my hair. My expression somber from the nerves rattling in my gut. I have no idea how to fix this.
“You could make him jealous,” he throws out the comment and then sips his coffee. “You could date Joe.”
I fix my offended jaw in place. “For real? That’s the dating pool? Joe?”
He shrugs. “He’s the only single guy I know.”
“The dating pool at thirty is more of a swamp. Got it.”
“Hey, don’t hate on ogres.”
“I will as long as they can’t remember my name.”
He smirks. “Fine. Don’t date Joe. Just be yourself, Liv. But you better be ready to beg for forgiveness.”
I manage a smile and nod as my mind drifts back to the previous moments of the morning. “Damn, Bennett. You’ve got a good smolder.”
He smiles wider. “I watch a lot of Disney princess movies,” he confesses, then his eyes drift to the hallway behind me, and he unleashes a full-blown grin.
“Hey, baby girl,” he says, and I turn to Josie, yawning in her footie jammies with the sweetest mussed-up hair and sleepy cheeks.
“Is it Christmas today?” Josie squeaks with a crumpled brow.
