by Nia Arthurs
“You’re so handsome,” she whispered, finger trailing around his lips. “Even if you have a big head.”
Benson shifted.
She pulled her hand back and grappled for her phone instead. As much as she enjoyed admiring him, she refused to wake him up. The bags under his eyes told her he hadn’t been getting enough sleep recently.
Now that he was letting her in, she’d be sure to rectify that.
Carrie clicked through her messages and saw that the Sweet Treats group chat was lighting up.
JO: Carrie, check in. Are you okay? Do you need company?
SKY: She’s probably sleeping.
JEWEL: Did something happen?
SKY: Carrie’s boss passed away. The funeral was today.
JEWEL: Oh, no.
JO: Carrie, answer your phone or we’re coming over!
Carrie stiffened, her eyes dropping to where Benson slumbered. There was no way she’d let the girls barge in here and see her like this. They would never let her live it down. Jo especially.
She rushed to tap in the message box.
CARRIE: I’m fine. Thanks for the concern.
JO: Girl, I was just about to jack Sun Gi’s keys and tear it over there.
SKY: We love you! Call if you need us.
JEWEL: Me too.
CARRIE: Thanks. Will do.
Carrie set her phone down carefully, but when she felt movement below she froze and glanced at Benson. His eyes were open and he was staring up at her with a small smile curving his lips.
“Did I wake you?”
He tilted his head, his hair tickling her skin. “When did I knock off?”
“The opening credits were still rolling.”
He chuckled and his laughter made her tense heart relax even more. “Sorry. I was beat.”
“I could see that.” She pointed to her thighs. “You mind?”
He sat up and rotated his neck while Carrie massaged her thighs in order to bring them back to life. “Gosh, you’re heavy,” she murmured.
“Stace always used to say I had a big head.”
Carrie sighed, watching the parade of emotions—regret, pain and loss—flit over Benson’s handsome face. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him close. There was nothing she could say, but she needed him to know that she was here.
“What did you and Luis talk about?” she asked tentatively.
“Not much.” He massaged his temples. “We were just two guys drowning in our own regret.”
“Sounds depressing.”
“Oh it was worse than that.” He ran his thumb over her thigh thoughtfully. “But it was good. I think I was blaming him all this while for something he had no control over. He was blaming himself too. It was a conversation we needed to have.”
“I was afraid you’d punch him.”
He squeezed her closer so half her body was on top of him, one dark leg thrown over his. “Then why did you leave?”
“Because I thought you wanted space. You’ve been distant since last week and I didn’t want to be pushy.”
“That why you wanted to ‘pause things’?”
“Don’t say it like that.” She scrunched her nose. “Imagine yourself in my position. What would you have thought?”
“Fair point.” He massaged her thigh.
Carrie ducked her head into his side. “You’re so annoying, but I get why you acted that way, so I’ll let you off the hook. This time. But if you start ignoring my messages and calls again…” She swiped her finger over her neck.
“Yes, ma’am.” He kissed the top of her head, not looking disturbed or threatened in the least.
“Are you tired?” she asked.
“Why? You have something in mind?”
“I’m innocent. I swear.” She threw her hands up. “I was just asking in case you wanted to stay home or go grocery shopping with me. I had it scheduled before work today, but now that the club is closed for a bit…”
“Okay. Let’s go.” He stood with a groan.
“You don’t have to.”
Benson cradled her fingers and dragged her out of her seat. “Come on.”
Carrie wasn’t sure if it was grief or if this was normal-Benson behavior, but the man plastered himself to her as she perused the aisles of the grocery store.
Fortunately, it was an odd-hour in the workweek so very few customers were present.
Unfortunately, there were plenty of clerks and cashiers who gave the six-foot-one hunk unabashedly back-hugging the dark-skinned woman in Aisle Eight plenty of odd glances.
Benson either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
Carrie tore through her grocery list and got out of there as soon as possible.
She dove into the car when Benson opened the door for her and waited until he climbed in to tear into him, “That was so embarrassing!” Carrie hid her face. “Didn’t you see everyone staring?”
“Did you?” Benson arched an eyebrow as he backed out of the parking lot.
“Yeah. That clerk in the raw chicken aisle gave us the stink eye.”
“Really?”
“Didn’t you notice?”
Benson shook his head. “Think she’s racist?”
“Ra—” Carrie’s jaw dropped and she barked out a laugh. “You’re kidding right?” His growing grin tipped her off. Carrie smacked his arm. “Benson, you knew we were getting stared at and you didn’t stop?”
“I told you.” He shrugged, nearing her apartment. “I missed you.”
Her heart jumped. Carrie mashed her lips together and glanced outside to hide how much his candidness had affected her.
Benson carefully parked in her designated spot. She gave him her back and opened her door, shooting out of the car.
Benson climbed out, far more elegantly than she, and helped her take the groceries upstairs. His arms flexed as he balanced all the loops on his wrists. He’d discarded his blazer and wore only his white shirt—tie loose and top button undone—and black slacks.
Gorgeous.
She caught herself licking her lips and cringed. Just because Benson was looking like a whole meal right now didn’t give her the right to ogle.
Her hands trembled when she went to unlock her door.
“Need some help with that?” Benson asked.
“Uh…”
Without waiting for her reply, he covered her hands with his and helped to steady her so she could turn the lock.
Her breathing thickened and her voice shook when she nervously explained, “The lock is old. I should get that fixed.”
“I’ll look at it for you later.”
“Thanks.” She strode into the kitchen, berating herself for her lack of control. “I’ll put the refrigerated items up,” she said, still avoiding his gaze. “Could you put the cans in the cupboard?”
Carrie could feel Benson watching her as she scurried to the refrigerator and dunked her head in.
Get yourself together, you monster!
Benson was wrestling with the loss of his sister. They’d put Stacie’s body in the ground a few hours ago. Just because his words, his looks and his touch made her feel all tingly, didn’t mean she could expect, much less demand, anything physical.
Benson was hurting on the inside. She should focus on healing him there instead of manipulating him for her own needs.
When she felt sufficiently cool, Carrie locked the freezer door and jumped when she spotted Benson standing right next to her. Pulse skittering, she stuttered, “Y-you’ve finished already?”
He nodded.
Carrie cleared her throat and tried to walk past him without shaking. “I bought some chips. If you want, we can try to watch the movie again since you missed most of it.”
“If it wasn’t that interesting the first time, I doubt things will change.”
“Right.” She fed the raw chicken breast into the freezer.
“I think,” Benson’s voice suddenly sounded closer to her ear, “we could do something else.” He placed a
package into the freezer. His body hovered over hers, slightly pressing her hips into the stainless steel fridge.
Her breath hitched. “Benson…”
He tugged her away from the fridge and locked the door, slamming his hand above her head. A smirk flirting with his lips, he murmured, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so shy.”
She pushed at his chest. “Stop it. I’m trying to behave myself.”
“Again, that’s unlike you.”
“Music. How about that? We can listen to music and drink some wine.”
Liquid courage. That’s what she needed tonight. Besides, a wine glass would keep her hands occupied and off Benson.
“Where did I put that opener…?”
Two giant hands landed on her waist and hauled her back. Carrie stumbled into Benson’s chest and heard his growly demand, “Where’s your bedroom?”
“B-bedroom?” Her heartbeat sped up. “Why would you need to go in there?”
He spun her around and kissed her deeply. Pulling back, Benson frowned. “If today’s taught me anything, it’s that life is precious and I don’t have time to waste.”
“Okay,” she breathed.
“So I’m going to write a book.”
Carrie nodded.
“I’m going to make Hidden Reef the hottest club like Stacie always wanted it to be.”
She bobbed her head, unable to do much else.
“And,” Benson gave her a wicked look, “I’m going to…” He leaned over and whispered in her ear.
Her knees buckled.
Benson swept her in his arms and took her to the bedroom to make good on one of his new resolutions.
A knock on the front door disturbed her sleep. Carrie stirred and nudged Benson’s chest. “The door.”
He groaned. “What?”
More pounding.
Carrie flexed her toes and dug her fingers into the bed to push herself up. Benson snatched her and dragged her body on top of him. “Ignore it. They’ll leave eventually.”
He was warm, but his abs were horrible pillows. She squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position that didn’t make her feel like she was on a bed of rocks. He rewarded her wiggling with a hard kiss that succeeded in waking her up completely.
Things were just about to get interesting when the knocking resounded again.
“I’ll get it,” Benson grumbled.
“No,” Carrie crawled off him and sat on the edge of the bed, “let me.” She absently grabbed the nearest article of clothing—which just so happened to be Benson’s shirt—and draped it around her.
“That looks good on you,” Benson said, bracing himself up with his elbows.
“Of course. I look good in anything, in nothing. I’m basically flawless.”
“I like that sassy mouth of yours,” Benson said, his voice a deliciously husky rumble.
“Should I show you what else this mouth can do?” She buttoned his shirt up.
“You talk tough. Come over here and back it up.”
Carrie winked. “Give me five minutes. I’ll get rid of whoever’s at the door and then I’m going to take you to school.”
Benson chuckled.
Carrie laughed along as she glided out of the room and finished buttoning up the shirt. It swallowed her whole and she had to push the sleeves back so she could get a grip on the knob.
“Who is it?” she cried, swinging the door open. A small, elegant, Asian woman waited outside. Carrie wheeled back. “Can I help you?”
The woman lifted her shades to the top of her head and said in a dry voice, “I’m Mae Choi. Have you seen my nephew, Benson?”
25
Benson waited impatiently for Carrie to return to bed. He had some things he had to work out with her and seeing her in his shirt had only made his need even more urgent.
Benson stretched, kicking the fluffy yellow comforter off one leg. It was becoming abundantly clear to him what Carrie’s favorite color was.
He smiled. It suited her. The dark skin that he loved touching more than anything didn’t just absorb the sunlight, it soaked it in, turned her body into pure, liquid luminescence.
Liquid luminescence. That was nice. He should write that down somewhere.
The door in the living room slammed shut. He heard voices. More than one. Had Carrie invited someone in? Guess he’d have to wait for her to make good on that smack talk earlier.
Benson let out a groan of frustration and rolled out of bed, his gaze skimming the floor for his pants. They hadn’t necessarily had the fortitude to be organized when undressing each other last night.
He found one leg of his pants sticking out from beneath the bed and yanked it out, revealing a line of dust along with it. He coughed. Okay, Carrie wasn’t the obsessively neat type.
Since he liked her, he’d let it go.
Benson was buckling up when Carrie flew through the room and locked the door behind her. She stood with her back to it, chest heaving and eyes wider than his fists.
Instantly, his muscles coiled. “Car, you alright? Who’s out there?” He craned his neck as if he could see through the door. “What happened?”
“I can’t believe it,” she hissed. Her lips tightened and she yanked at the bottom of his shirt. “How could I have walked out in this?” She started flailing and pouting like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Why?”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “Hey, hey. Calm down. Explain in words I can understand.”
“Your aunt,” she lifted her eyes to his, “is outside.”
Benson stiffened. “What?”
Carrie moaned. “I know.”
Benson moved to open the door, but Carrie flung herself against it so it banged shut again. “Wait, you can’t go out there like that.” She draped her fingers over his chest. “Here. Take your shirt back.”
Any other day and the sight of her unbuttoning his shirt and revealing her gorgeous body underneath would never result in him leaving the room. But Aunt Mae was an obstacle he couldn’t ignore.
Benson accepted the shirt from her and sailed out, quickly putting himself in order as he strode to the living room.
Aunt Mae sat primly in the sofa. He saw her head turning left and right and figured she was observing everything. The woman was like a mind reader and he’d never managed to outwit her growing up. Never.
“Imo?” He spoke in Korean to soften the blow.
She turned, her eyes fastening on his hair and down to his wrinkled shirt. He could practically see her matching this shirt to the one Carrie had been wearing earlier.
Might as well have come out naked.
Nothing got past her and the fact that they were trying to hide it made him feel like a teenager again.
“Come and sit down, Benson,” she said crisply.
He sat gingerly on the chair across from her. “Did you get a good rest?”
“How could I when my son went missing and wasn’t answering his phone all night?”
Benson winced. His battery had been choking since the burial and he’d lost track of his phone sometime during the night.
Aunt Mae raised her chin. “I almost called the police. Thankfully, I decided to check the club first and your bartender was nice enough to point me in this direction.”
Zeke.
Benson didn’t know if he wanted to thank the kid or throttle him.
“Did you come all the way down here because you were worried or is there something else?” he asked.
Aunt Mae eyed him and then the hallway he’d emerged from. “I understand that everyone processes loss in their own way, Benson, but is this really the best method to work through your grief? Sleeping with your employees?”
“No, you misunderstand.” Benson rubbed the back of his neck. “Carrie is my… we’re dating.”
Her eyebrows shuttled up. “Oh? I thought she was Stacie’s manager and you barely knew each other?”
Benson smiled politely to hide the fact that sleeping with Carrie when they’d barely
known each other was exactly how they’d started out.
“She’s a little embarrassed about your first impression.” He scooted to the edge of his chair and whispered, “Could you cut her some slack?”
“I have no issues with your girlfriend, Benson.” Her eyes sharpened. “But I do have some questions about what you’re doing with her before marriage.”
His cheeks burned.
Aunt Mae lifted her chin and voice. “Young lady, you can come out now.”
Benson twisted around in his chair and found Carrie shuffling toward them. She’d changed into a blue blouse and loose jeans. Her hair was brushed back into a ponytail and… was that makeup? He peered at her mouth.
“Have a seat.” Aunt Mae jutted her chin toward Benson.
Carrie ducked her head like an embarrassed student caught sneaking out of school. Benson scooted aside and made room for her. She plopped into the cushion beside him and folded her hands together, rubbing her thumb over her bracelet nervously.
Benson captured her hand to help calm her nerves. “Aunt Mae, I’d like to formally introduce you to my girlfriend.”
Carrie’s widening eyes and thrumming pulse revealed her alarm. She coughed nervously and dipped her head. “Hello, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.”
“How old are you, Carrie?”
“I’m twenty-six.”
“Are your parents alive?”
“Yes.” Carrie bobbed her head.
“What do they do?”
“They sell natural beauty products.”
“That’s nice. You have a good relationship with them?”
“Somewhat.”
“Mm.” Aunt Mae shifted her purse to her lap. “What are your views on marriage?”
“Marriage? It’s forever. Obviously.”
“Are you ready for that kind of commitment?”
Carrie gave him a helpless look. “Uh…”
“I see.” Aunt Mae rolled her fingers over her pearl necklace. “Do you love my son?”
Carrie’s jaw dropped. “What?”
Benson decided to step in. “Aunt Mae.”
“What? It’s a fair question.” She studied his face and then rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll scratch that from the record.”
“What’s with the interview questions? It’s unlike you.”