Page 9 of Riding Pine
Ben gasps and arches off the door with a groan to meet my thrusts. A low, sexy moan sounds as he comes again, and I lose my rhythm. I’ve never been with a man who could do that, and I don’t know if it’s normal for him, but I’m taking it as a boost to my damn ego.
I don’t even know what words come out of my mouth as I flood the condom and collapse against him, pinning him against the door.
The musk of sex fills the small room, and the sounds of the TV next door still vibrate through the walls. We’re both panting, trying to catch our breath. Ben still has his legs wrapped tight around me as I stare at him. Partially in disbelief, but mostly in awe because I’ve never had sex like this before, and I’m unsure of what to say.
Do you need me to call you a cab seems a little harsh, but I don’t think asking him to stay is the right thing either. There has to be a happy medium, right?
He returns the same stare. Maybe he feels the same way. Or maybe it’s just a night of hot sex and I need to forget about it. Not that I can do that. Ben isn’t an encounter you just walk away from.
I want to open my mouth, intent on asking for his phone number, but a voice comes from outside the door.
“You two need a cigarette in there? I sure do, and I didn’t even get to watch.”
Ben’s eyes widen, and we both break into laughter as I ease him down and remove the condom.
“I don’t even smoke, but I could use one!” Ben calls out, and the voice outside fades away with laughter. “I’m going to clean up.”
Before I can return to asking him the question, he’s disappeared into the bathroom, and maybe it’s for the best. Wanting to keep Ben around right now wouldn’t be fair to him.
three
Ben
Two weeks later
“I’ve got a class to teach tonight, James. What are you up to?”
Not like I really need to ask. He already has his laptop set up on the coffee table.
“Same as any night. Writing the next great Canadian novel on my couch while watching reruns of The X-Files.”
Is there anything more inspiring for a romance author than Mulder when he’s in full-on nerd mode? Ithink not.
Flopping next to him with my dish of steamed vegetables and rice, I bump his shoulder. “Keep at it, James. I believe in you.” James grins and peeks into my bowl. He tries to steal a chunk of broccoli, and after smacking his hand, I let him take it.
“So, a yoga class tonight. Have any men signed up yet? I still think if you do a men’s class, it would be the easiest way to get to know someone without actually dating them.” He reaches for my bowl again, and this time I let him take the whole thing. “You still haven’t told me about your guy from the bar. The huge dude with the full sleeve of tattoos. You said you hooked up, but since then, all you seem to do is bounce around the furniture like a restless cat, and you’ve not said one word. What’s up with you?”
No, I didn’t tell my best friend and roommate about the best sex I’ve ever had. Because he was too busy snuggling with the most perfect gentleman on the couch when I got home every night. Something I don’t quite want to admit that I’m jealous of.
“Well… I’m meeting with the gal about the beaver gig after class. Hopefully, I’m coming home to tell you I’ve got a new job involving playing with wood a few nights a week.”
I snort a laugh at my joke, but James doesn’t bite.
He raises an eyebrow. “And? What about the man with the tats and the cute floppy hair?”
James keeps eating from my bowl, and I sag back against the couch with a groan.
“I didn’t get his number. What else do you want me to say?”
James pauses, his fork suspended midway from the bowl to his mouth. “Was it that bad?”
His voice carries a tone of disbelief that I could ever have bad sex. Which, to be fair, I’ve not. I’ve had some mediocre sex and alot of hot, spontaneous sex. But never anything I’d call bad. But Lukas didn’t fall into either of those categories. There was nothing mediocre about him. Sure, it was hot and spontaneous, but it was also…next level. Life-altering might be a bit of a stretch, but perhaps I need to just share it with James to set the record straight and not because I’ve been bursting to talk about it.
“James, it was epic,” I sigh like a teenager crushing on a celebrity, and I honestly don’t care. “Like, hear the angels singing and I can’t feel my legs, kind of epic. And… I’m an idiot for not sticking around and asking him for a number or anything. He was staying at the motel on Main Street, but when I walked by yesterday, I saw a woman with a child leaving, and they definitely aren’t with him.”
“So you’ve already tried to find him, then? Interesting.”
Yeah, it’s not my usual post-hook-up action, I admit. But I’d be a fool not to attempt to find him again. Angels singing, remember?
