by Arthurs, Nia
Click. Click. Click.
Her plump lips parted. She licked them slowly. “What are you waiting for?”
Benson ran a hand through his hair. At this point, he honestly didn’t know the answer to that question.
Carrie’s shirt was open, puckered like her lips, but it was still tucked into the waistband of her short-as-sin skirt. What was she thinking wearing that thing? He could stick his hand right under it and palm her butt in less than three seconds.
Was she even wearing underwear under that skirt?
A vein in his temple bulged. Heart pounding, he shook his head. Carrie liked control. She might be begging for sex—and he wanted nothing more than to satisfy her—but he knew exactly why she was doing this.
And he couldn’t let her off so easily.
Not until she admitted what she really wanted from him.
Carrie’s dark and slender fingers brushed against the hem of her skirt. She tugged the band away from her hip, flashing a hint of white lacy panties, and started to tug it down.
Benson surged forward and captured her mouth, pinning her hands down with his throbbing body. Carrie kissed him back, tilting her head to deepen the embrace. She drank deeply of him.
Her body went light.
She probably thought she’d won.
Poor thing.
She had no idea.
Benson pulled back and saw her eyelashes fluttering. Male pride slithered through him, made him grin. He felt like slapping his hands on his chest, gorilla-style. That’s right, baby. I’m the one in charge here.
Breathlessly, Carrie reached out and dug her fingers into his belt. “Take it off.”
“Wait.”
She froze and peered at him, eyelids at half-mast. The lone white bulb splayed against the canvas of her skin, spilled man-made moonlight over her heaving chest. Fragile, black eyelashes trembled. Nostrils flared. Perfect lips trembled.
“Against the wall,” he said gruffly.
Carrie bit down on her bottom lip. He knew she didn’t like being bossed around, but this little tango needed two people, not one. Benson saw her delicate throat bob. He felt her wrestling with the need to feel him against her and the need to feel power.
In the end, she strode to the wall.
Benson grasped the opportunity to take a deep breath and chase the fog of lust that Carrie always seemed to produce in him. He raked trembling fingers through his hair and strode toward her.
Carrie arched her chest expectantly. He planted his hands on her stomach, unable to resist the pull of her skin. He heard her deep inhalation of breath, felt the tiny tremor that wracked her body as his fingers made their exploration.
It’s so damn smooth.
Her waist was tiny. He slid both hands around her circumference and realized he had room. The fabric of her shirt brushed against the back of his knuckles. Soft. Inviting. Like their owner.
A husky moan escaped her lips. “Hurry it up already.”
“So impatient…” He chuckled darkly.
“Just take the skirt off or pull it up or something.” She wrapped her hands around his neck and checked her watch. “They’ll start to get suspicious if we don’t show soon.”
“Don’t rush me.” He kissed her as punishment, not letting up until he’d robbed her of breath. When he was good and ready, Benson drew back and freed one side of her blouse out of the hem of her skirt. Next he freed the other side.
Carrie was panting, ready, eager.
He planted a palm on the wall and leaned into her ear, slightly nuzzling as he growled, “You’re so beautiful.”
She dug her fingers into his shirt.
He kissed her, taking his time to suck on her plump bottom lip, giving it the love and attention it deserved. He moved back again. Carrie’s eyes were closed. She was visibly trembling.
“So stunning…” He pulled the last button on her shirt and closed it up. “Gorgeous…”
When Carrie was about to open her eyes, he kissed her again and felt around her shirt for the next button. He closed that one up too.
Benson intertwined kisses with sweet growls, all the while buttoning her shirt. Carrie didn’t catch on until he was halfway up.
Her hands clamped on his wrists. Brown eyes wide, she hissed, “What are you doing?”
“Making love to you.”
“Not like this,” she snapped.
“I don’t know. It seemed like you were enjoying yourself.” He rested his forehead against hers and stared into her crackling brown eyes. “I want you, Carrie.”
“Then you’ve got five minutes to get it done.”
Benson laughed softly. She sounded like a drill sergeant. He liked that about her. He liked her, but what he didn’t like was that wall she had up between them. Benson didn’t plan on stopping until he’d destroyed that thing, knocked the very last brick to the ground. “I want you, but not like this.”
She scrunched her nose. “You prefer a bedroom? I can’t wait until tonight though. We could go to the lounge, but your sister’s paranoid. She’s got cameras—”
“I want you.” He let his finger trace her lips, down her neck to just above the cup of her breasts where her shirt was still open. “I want all of you. Until we can meet on my terms, you’re not getting any of this.” He tugged the back of her neck and slanted his mouth over hers, dipping his tongue past her parted lips for a taste.
Carrie kissed him harshly.
He barely restrained the groan. Benson was insane. What the hell was he giving up here?
Carrie pushed him back. “Stop.”
He did immediately and studied her face, the tightening edges of her mouth, the slanted angles of her eyebrows. She wasn’t just some sex object to him. And even if she couldn’t see how special she was yet, he’d acknowledge it for her.
“You’re messing with me,” Carrie said softly.
“I meant every word.”
“Why make this complicated when it doesn’t have to be?” She paced, her shirt half-undone and her hair billowing over her shoulders. “Why are you resisting me? Aren’t guys wired for this stuff? It shouldn’t mean anything.”
Benson let her rage. He could tell her that he wasn’t like most guys. And he definitely wasn’t like the guys she’d dated before, but words wouldn’t do much good. Carrie had been burned so much that she needed some action.
And he’d deliver.
In all the ways that mattered.
She stopped and leveled him with a daring stare. “This is your last chance. I’m not asking again.”
He watched her steadily. These feelings that consumed them both weren’t going to disappear if he took her to bed a couple times. He’d remove all excuses until she couldn’t hide behind her armor anymore.
And then?
He’d make her beg.
Benson ran his hands down her cheek. “Go out with me this Sunday.”
“Sleep with me.” She slapped his hand away.
“I thought you weren’t asking anymore?”
“I wasn’t asking the first time.” She arched an eyebrow. “You’re the one making things difficult.”
“Admit you can’t stop thinking about me.” He folded his arms over his chest.
“Get between my legs and then we can talk.”
He chuckled. “Tempting…”
“But no?”
“You’re very direct, aren’t you?” He folded his arms over his chest. Now that they were talking, it didn’t feel like such a struggle to keep his hands to himself.
“Guys get to trash talk and objectify women all the time. Why do I have to beat around the bush?”
“I like you.”
She went silent. Benson saw the wheels turning behind her sharp eyes. His heartbeat quickened. What would she say to that?
Carrie gestured to her hips and down to her toes. “Here to here.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“You can have everything down there. Do whatever you want. Go to town. I don’t care.”
She sashayed past him and unlocked the door. Stopping right beside him, she whispered, “But you can’t have anything else.”
“We’ll see.”
She huffed and left, clutching the front of her blouse and slamming the door behind her.
Benson waited a few seconds—to avoid suspicion and also to adjust himself so no one would be able to tell what they’d been up to just by looking at him.
Straightening his shoulders, he stalked to the door and headed outside. Carrie was nowhere to be seen, but Zeke was there, a knowing smile on his face. Benson frowned and tried to bypass him.
The kid slid into his path. “You and Carrie, huh?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, man. I saw you two walking off together.” He leaned in. “You might want to try and be more subtle. Everyone’s hooked up with everyone around here so we recognize the signs.”
Benson firmed his jaw. “Do you have a point?”
“Just… how did you do it?”
“Excuse me?”
“Carrie swore she’d never date anyone from work.” He snorted. “I should know. I’ve been trying to get with her since Day One.” Zeke ignored Benson’s glare and continued as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Plus, I thought she’d hate your guts for taking over her job.”
“We’re working together,” he said defensively.
“But you have the last word because you’re the boss’s family. That’s pretty clear.”
He rubbed his temple. Stacie had called him here to Hidden Reef so he could meet Carrie. It was a good plan, even if he’d already gotten a head start on it, but his sister hadn’t accounted for the leadership dilemma.
Now that his feelings for Carrie were becoming stronger, he didn’t want any drama because of his place in the bar.
Should he quit?
As soon as the thought popped into his head, he rejected it. His one move in this little skirmish was the ability to corner Carrie everyday at work. Hidden Reef wasn’t just an excuse, it was an advantage.
The sound of high heels invaded his thoughts. He spun and saw Carrie strutting toward him. She’d buttoned the rest of her shirt, but the fabric was still rumpled from where he’d crushed her against the wall.
She stopped beside him and handed Zeke a clipboard. Without a glance at Benson, she spoke. “I need the checked items ordered from the brewing company. Also, the plumber’s supposed to arrive today to fix the pipe. Let me know when he arrives.”
“Sure thing, Bos—Carrie.” Zeke cleared his throat.
Carrie shot him a hard stare before turning on her heels and stomping off. Benson followed her with his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck.
It didn’t look like she was opening anything but her legs up to him anytime soon.
15
Carrie squared her shoulders and made sure her face was a mask of strength and confidence as she strode away from Benson. She could feel Zeke staring. Could feel Benson’s piercing eyes aiming for the back of her head.
She ignored both of them.
Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Carrie soared into the hallway. Her breath thickened. The mask was slipping; the façade was starting to crack. She burst into the office, making it by the skin of her teeth.
As soon as she’d locked the door behind her, Carrie flung herself against the wall and rolled all over it like a crazy woman.
“I’m such an idiot,” she hissed, stomping her feet. “What happened to self-respect, Carrie? What happened to not begging?”
Yeah, that pretty much flew out the window the moment Benson leveled his bone-melting gaze at her and told her she was beautiful.
Stupid Benson.
Jerk of all jerks.
She couldn’t stand that man. Taking the high road? Was he really going to play it like that? Ask her out like a human being instead of treating her like a piece of meat? How dare he!
Carrie bit down on her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut. When Benson’s hands had roamed her stomach, she’d been so sure that things were swinging in her favor. From the way he’d kissed her, brushed his fingers along her skin so reverently, so tenderly, attraction wasn’t the problem.
They were both feeling each other.
So why’d he have to screw it up? Why did he want more than she was willing to give? She’d practically prepared a feast and handed him the knife and fork. All he’d needed to do was dig in.
Carrie flailed her arms. Anyone would have thanked her politely and gotten to business.
But not Benson.
Freakin’ prick.
She ran trembling hands up her face from her cheeks to her temple. Her mind was so warped she almost dug her fingers into her tracks as if she hadn’t spent an obscene amount of money on this weave.
Carrie pulled her hands down and gritted her teeth. She was done. So done. Benson didn’t want her body? Fine. She was sure plenty of other men could do the job with half the chitchat.
Yeah, but will they be as good?
Well…
Dammit. She didn’t want anybody else. It was Benson or nothing.
Before Carrie could mutter all the expletives in her repertoire, someone knocked on the door. She jumped away from the wall and brushed her hair down in case it was Benson.
“Just a second!” Lifting her chin, she pranced to the door and struck a pose. Throwing her hair over her shoulder, she opened up and breathed, “Yes… Jewel!” The name escaped on a stunned shriek. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi.” The quiet girl lifted a hand and wiggled it, her gaze on the floor.
“Come in.” Carrie ushered Jewel inside and led her to the couch splayed against the wall. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Jewel shook her head. “No.”
“What’s up?”
“This morning, when you told me I could talk to you… did you mean it?”
“Of course.” Sort of.
Carrie had offered the olive branch in a jovial manner; she never dreamed that Jewel would take her up on the offer. When it came to having things together, Carrie probably ranked last among the women of Sweet Treats.
“How can I help you?”
Jewel scraped her thumbnail against her wrist. “I really… sorry. It’s just hard to get out.”
“You can tell me anything.” Carrie sat on the opposite end of the couch. From the fidgeting and the tortured expression on Jewel’s face, it was clear the kid was struggling.
She wanted to reach out and squeeze Jewel’s hand, but something told her it wouldn’t be a good idea.
Carrie held steady and waited.
The seconds ticked by.
If she weren’t so anxious to hear what Jewel had come all this way to say, she would have fallen asleep.
Jewel bowed her head and spoke so softly, Carrie had to stop breathing just to hear her. “My family isn’t the most stable.” She licked her lips. “My mom had me when she was fifteen. We both kind of grew up together.”
“What about your dad?” Carrie asked and then immediately felt like slapping herself. She’d bet her entire paycheck that Carrie’s dad wasn’t in the picture.
Absentee fathers was a raging epidemic in the Caribbean. Men were obsessed with unzipping their pants whenever it felt right and packing up their things when it didn’t.
Jewel frowned. “It’s just my mom, me and my brother.”
“Okay.” Carrie breathed a little sigh of relief. At least Jewel’s mother hadn’t made a ton of children she couldn’t support. That was a good sign.
“When I turned twelve, Mom got a boyfriend… and he… he…”
Carrie saw the kid trembling. Her gaze ran down to Jewel’s hands that were clutched into fists on the couch.
All she wanted to do was reach over and hug her but, again, that still, small voice inside warned that doing so would cause Jewel to shatter. Forcing her instincts back, Carrie remained on her side of the couch.
&nb
sp; Jewel brushed away a tear. “Mom was gone a lot. I stayed home and took care of my brother. The first time,” Jewel shuddered, “it was raining outside.” Jewel looked at the door as if she were seeing it happen all over again. “He crept into my room and put a hand on my mouth. He said he would kill Juney if I didn’t do what he said.”
Horror slowly paraded across her expression. She was glad that Jewel’s gaze was fastened on the door because there was no way she’d be able to hide how she felt.
“It hurt so much. I don’t know why, but it hurt every time. I was in so much pain, but I was scared for my brother, Juney. I didn’t want to say anything to my mom or to anyone.”
“How long did it go on for?”
Jewel lifted her hand and revealed three fingers.
“Three days?” Carrie asked with a glimmer of hope.
“Years.”
Hope shrunk into a sniveling ball and went to hide in the corner.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I got a boyfriend when I was fifteen.” Jewel’s chest lifted and fell on a shaky inhale. “He wanted sex and I told him I didn’t want to do that because, you know. He… forced himself on me. It hurt so much in here.” Jewel tapped her chest. “More than when my mom’s boyfriend did it.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I felt so worthless. Like I was nothing. I hated myself so much.”
Carrie couldn’t stay strong any longer. She started crying. Tears leaked from her eyes. She didn’t make a sound, didn’t sniffle or sob, but her heart was breaking for this sweet girl who’d been through so much at such a young age.
“After a while, I thought that it was my fault. Maybe I was asking for it, you know? Maybe I was doing something that made them think it was okay.” Jewel sniffed and wrapped her arms around herself. “I decided I’d just become invisible and maybe no one would want to hurt me anymore. But I feel like I’m disappearing.” Jewel clawed at her throat. “I can’t breathe. I’m in pain all the time. I’m always scared.”
Carrie threw caution to the wind and hauled Jewel in for a hug. They cried together, sobbing like two babies caught in a storm. And they kind of were. Carrie couldn’t offer any deep pockets of wisdom.
Nothing.
She felt just as helpless.