Page 92 of Her Ex's Father
His breath hitches. Then he’s on me, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that sears me down to the bone. It’s not frantic. It’s reverent. Devouring. The kind of kiss that saysI almost lost you and I will never let you go again.
Tugging my t-shirt off, Benedict actually growls when I’m in nothing but the bra and leggings, earning a laugh from me. He guides me back carefully to the bed, pulls the curtains closed—not that anyone could see us on the 58thfloor—and then starts discarding his own clothes.
The jacket first, leaving him in tailored jeans and a fitted t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination. My hungry eyes rove his body, the twist of his muscles beneath thin fabric, as he starts to yank it over his head.
Then the jeans.
The sight of him, hard, in just boxers, stalking toward me. His eyes snap to mine as he kneels at the foot of the bed and eases my leggings off, then my underwear—far from lace trimmed silk, but he licks his lips like they’re luxury anyway, then stares down my naked body as I feel a hot flush unfurl over every inch of my skin.
“Here,” he rumbles, moving over me and helping me slide up the bed, my body aching for his as his thighs brush my hips and his erection bobs against the base of my stomach. “This might be more comfortable.”
I laugh as he positions us, like mannequins, his hands lingering just under my breasts, smoothing down my thighs, until he’s pressed against my back with me on my side. It’s surprisingly comfortable given how big I already am.
“Oh,” I gasp, caught off guard at his hand sinking between my thighs and plying my pussy like it’shis.Because it is—all his. I open my legs for him and drop my head back onto his shoulder, moaning as he sinks two fingers inside me.
“You missed me, Maddie?” he asks, chest vibrating against my back. I make a sound of agreement, already hazy with how bad I want him.
It’s been a while since it was just us, unfettered by our fears, giving in to each other. How strange that only months ago hewas mine for the first time at Bronson Hall… in his suite… my bridal lingerie not going to waste, my annoyance and anger turning to lust the moment he claimed me.
I feel it all over again as Ben guides my legs open and enters me from behind, sliding in effortlessly, stretching me deliciously. We both moan, the sound obscene in the quiet room, and his fingers clutch my hip to pull me closer.
With his fingers playing my clit almost lazily, a juxtaposition to his reckless thrusts, it doesn’t take long before my back arches and I dig my nails into his thigh as the orgasm crashes over me. Itliterallymakes my toes curl, his fingers slowing to a caress, his own hips stuttering as he comes with a groan, pressing himself as deep inside and against me as he can.
We lay there, both panting, bodies sinking into the plush bedding as the light breaking through the curtains turns butter-gold. Benedict presses kisses against the back of my neck, gently moving my hair behind my ear, running his hand over my belly and cupping it as I finally manage to catch my breath.
“Stay here,” he murmurs, carefully extricating himself. “Don’t worry about the mess.” His eyes, dark with lust and satisfaction, flicker over my body as I shift onto my back.
He disappears into the bathroom and as soon as the bath starts running I sigh in contentment. When he reappears, he has a warm, damp towel and cleans me up before helping me on shaky legs to the tub.
“This is amazing,” I murmur, feeling buoyant and pliant as the warm water loosens my muscles.
“We can stay,” Ben answers, reaching into the standing shower nearby and turning the knob. “Forever, if you want. Anywhere, Maddie—as long as I’m with you.”
Sinking into the water to hide my smile and the blush that covers my cheeks, I watch as he cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders, and steps into the shower.
He finishes before me—unsurprising, even though I know I need to get out, pee, get some food in me, and finallyrest.After weeks of feeling hunted by my past, by Derrick, and unsure about Ben’s real feelings for me and our child, my mind is blissfully quiet.
I feel secure, reassured, and most of all, wanted. And that makes all the difference.
Later, tangled in sheets that smell of us, I trace circles on his chest with one finger. The city hums somewhere down below, but here in this cocoon, it’s just us.
“We can’t stay here forever,” I murmur.
“No,” he agrees. His hand rests over my stomach, protective, tender. “But we can stay for a few days. See the city. Eat ridiculous food. Pretend, just for a little while, that we’re not who we are.”
I smile faintly. “A vacation.”
“A reprieve,” he corrects, his lips brushing the crown of my head.
Silence stretches, comfortable. But one worry gnaws at me, pulling me back to the surface.
“What about Derrick?” I whisper. “What happens when we go back? He’s your son, Ben. You can’t just?—”
“That’s for me to figure out,” he says firmly, cutting me off. His arms tighten around me. “Not you. Not ever again. You’ve carried enough.”
I close my eyes, letting the weight of his certainty sink into me. For the first time in years, I let myself believe I’m not alone in the fight.
And as sleep pulls me under, I think maybe—just maybe—home won’t feel so lonely anymore.
