Page 32 of Lacey's Fight

“I was …”

“I know,” he growled again.

“So, I would never do that to anyone …”

“I know.” This last was roared, and he grabbed her biceps and dragged her up so she was kneeling on the bed beside him. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve what I said to you.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she leaned forward. Ben knew what she was going to do, knew that he should push her away. It was one thing to care about her feelings, to feel regret for the heartless things he’d said, even to care about her as a person including her needs.

It was another to take things further.

To a place there was no coming back from.

Still, when Lacey moved closer, her lips just millimeters from his own he didn’t pull away. Didn’t push her away.

In fact, he was the one to close the distance.

Whisper his lips across hers.

The soft moan that she made had heat building in his body. For three long years, he had punished himself by denying himself any release, any pleasure. How could he allow himself pleasure when Jemima was dead because of him?

“Ben, we should …”

“We should what?” he demanded as he grasped one of her breasts, kneading it between his fingers.

Another moan tumbled from her lips as she thrust her chest forward. “We shouldn’t. You don’t like me.”

Not true.

Not true at all.

“Don’t dislike you, sunflower.”

“Sure seems like you do.”

The problem wasn’t not liking Lacey, it was liking her too much.

Because he didn’t want to discuss Jemima and what he’d done, he spun her around and hauled her onto his lap, kissing her neck as he shoved up the short skirt of her purple silk dress so he could dip his hand between her legs.

“Are you sure?” Lacey asked, even as she spread her legs to allow him better access.

“That I want to watch you unravel, find out if it makes you brighter than the sun?” The tiny scrap of material covering her was soaked in her arousal, and he shoved it aside and slipped a finger inside her. “So tight, so hot,” he groaned.

Another finger joined the first and Lacey began to rock her hips. One hand clasped his forearm as he began to play with one of her breasts again, and the other reached behind her to where he was straining against the black pants of his suit.

“You’re so big,” she said, stroking him through the pants.

Adding a third finger inside her, stretching her, his thumb found its way to her bundle of nerves, and he circled it. Her moan of pleasure had an almost frantic need thrumming through his body.

He needed this.

Needed to feel good even just for a moment.

Lacey’s hand found its way inside his pants and gripped him tightly, her fingertips making small circular motions as she stroked up and down his throbbing length.

As his thumb worked her bud, his fingers stroked, hitting the spot inside her that would drive her wild.

It did.

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