Page 21 of Resisting Fate
Chapter Five
Forty-five minutes later, she pulled her car into the driveway of Ben’s house in Fieldridge, a town not far from Clover Park and dotted with horse farms and small clusters of homes, ranging from older ranch homes to elegant mansions perched high on the hill. Ben had a newer home, near the bottom of the hill, in a development full of cul-de-sacs, the kind of neighborhood with families, where kids could play in the streets and bike safely. She’d suspected he was well off, but the house confirmed it. His business must be doing fantastic because she knew he came from modest beginnings. A single mom on a social worker’s salary couldn’t afford a lot of luxury. Her respect and admiration for him went up several more notches. Her heart kicked up speed, a warning not to get too close.
Nope, not gonna happen.This was sex, nothing more. One night.
She calmed, following him inside through a spotless laundry room to a large gourmet kitchen with gleaming stainless steel appliances, white marble counters, and sleek white cabinets. He took off his jacket and hung it on a peg in the short hallway between the kitchen and laundry room. Then he helped her off with her coat and hung hers next to his.
“You want a drink?” he asked, heading toward the cabinets.
She stood next to the marble island, waiting for what they were both here for. “No, thanks.”
He helped himself to a glass of water and took a long drink, watching her over the rim. “You want to watch a movie?”
“Not really.”
“Hungry? I’ve got some leftovers from my early Thanksgiving with my grandmother. She eats at noon, naps by three.”
She was hungry, but that could wait. “Maybe later.”
He set his glass on the counter. “Give me a clue here. I’m good, but I’m not that good.” He closed the short distance between them and tapped her head. “Can’t read minds.”
She looked up at him. “Maybe we could eat after sex.”
He stared at her mouth, his voice rough. “So you’re just here for sex.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“I don’t need all the niceties.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Just fuck me.”
His arm banded around her waist, pulling her tight against him, heat in his eyes. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
“It’s all men’s language.”
His brows creased for a moment, staring at her like he was trying to read her soul. Fuck that. She kissed him roughly.
He growled deep in his throat and lifted her, setting her on the island, his mouth sealed over hers. His tongue invaded, his large hand cupping the back of her head, the other hand sliding down her back to cup her ass. He ground himself against her, all of him hard and hot, hitting just the right spot, pleasure spiraling out from her core. Something in her snapped, wild for him like she’d never been for any man. She bit his bottom lip, then sucked it, her nails digging into his shoulders, her hips rising to meet him in open invitation.
He pressed on her chin, easing her mouth open, pulling back to stare at her for a moment before he closed the distance, his tongue tracing her lips. Then he surprised her, biting her lower lip hard enough to sting, jolting her. He sucked gently, soothing the sting, then grazed his lips over hers, bringing hot tingles over her sensitized lips.
She yanked his shirt over his head, sliding her hands over the hard planes of his body, reveling in the lines of his muscular shoulders to his warm chest to flat stomach. He tossed his shirt behind him and then ripped her shirt off. She grabbed his head and kissed him, rough and hungry, her body humming in anticipation, and he met her there, the intensity skyrocketing. His hands were on her bra, working to get it off, while she rapidly undid the button and zipper on his jeans. And then she had him in hand, thick and hard, stroking him.
He swore, finally got the bra free, tossed it and dove in, cupping her breasts with both hands before lowering his head and suckling. Her breath ragged, her body bowed, need sharper than she’d ever felt spearing through her, she pushed at his shoulders. The moment he eased back, she undid her jeans, grabbed his hand and thrust it inside her panties.
His eyes dark with desire, he spoke against her lips. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”
“So fuck me.”
He pushed her back on the cool marble island and worked off her jeans and panties. She immediately sat up, yanking his jeans and boxer briefs down. She reached for him and he pulled back.
“One minute,” he said through his teeth.
“Hopefully more than that,” she purred. She reached for him again, but he remained frustratingly out of reach.
He snagged his jeans from the floor, pulled a condom from his wallet, and ripped it open.
She had a moment—a very brief moment—of self-recrimination for forgetting the condom, but watching him roll it on, thick and ready, the throbbing between her legs intensified. Sharp need trounced everything. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” she told him.
