by Julie Bale
I wasn’t back there anymore. I wasn’t. I was good. I was calm and as long as I kept taking my lithium I’d be fine.
I’ll be fine.
With a sigh, I fell off of bed and tossed the bottle back into my underwear drawer before crossing the room to stand by the window, so that I could look into the dark. This was my favorite time of day, this little slip of time between sleep and awake and down there it was quiet and calm.
It was also officially the Fourth of July and Ben wanted to celebrate. He was thrilled that he’d managed to get hold of the real estate agent in charge of the house, and he was to meet with her on Saturday, the fifth.
He was making an offer. He was here to stay.
I let my blinds slip back into place and paced my room a bit, my mind reeling back as I thought of the night before and how I’d fallen under his spell as surely as if he’d made me drink a Ben Lancaster potion.
I wanted him in a way I’d never experienced before, not with anyone. Not even Travis Bartlett, the guy I’d given my virginity too after months of heavy petting and night that had included a bottle of vodka and a half a bag of weed. This was different. This was grown up and real and I had no clue how to deal with it.
I wanted Ben Lancaster in a way that ached. It was as if in the space of a few days, he’d leeched into my bones or his soul had somehow melted into mine. Was that even possible? Or was I delusional?
I glanced back at my underwear drawer, a frown on my face. Had I overdone the lithium? Should I be taking the klonopin or was my mind just scrambled and confused? Was it possible that I was reading everything wrong?
An image of his dark eyes assaulted me and my heart jumped. No way had I misread things. What I was feeling was real. It was real and it was amazing.
Ben Lancaster was like the yummiest piece of chocolate ever. And it wasn’t just because he was the hottest guy I’d ever met. Sure, he could give any movie star a run for their money with his tall, dark good looks and a body to die for. He was completely and utterly lickable, fuckable and wildly successful. But I’d been around guys like him before—I’d fucked guys like him before—yet he was different.
I didn’t want to fuck Ben. I wanted to matter.
Ben Lancaster was the whole package. He was smart, funny, with a wicked sense of humor. He had his shit together. I could tell. The guy wasn’t out partying every night, banging chicks because he could, and trust me, if he wanted to have sex with a different girl or two every night he could.
I can’t lie. I’d done some research—Google can be a girl’s best friend these days—but there was nothing to find. I looked at pictures of him while he’d played with the Kings and even a few of him at the clubs, but there were no wild stories, no inappropriate photos or videos.
He seemed to be the guy every girl dreamed about bringing home, and he was so far from what I deserved that I just knew if we acted on our attraction, it would end badly.
Ben Lancaster was the total opposite of me. Of what I had been and what I was afraid to become once more. And I didn’t know what to do about it.
I felt his interest. The way his eyes lingered a tad too long or his hands touched the small of my back whenever he could. We’d spent the entire day together and by evening my body thrummed with repressed passion and the need to connect.
We’d stopped for dinner at a little Italian place on our way back to the loft, and it seemed as if only a few hours had passed, but it was nearly midnight by the time we made it back.
We’d talked about his plans for the house and I was more than happy to sit and listen to him. In that moment, I didn’t want to be anywhere else but with him. I wanted to be in his orbit, to soak up his energy and goodness. I wanted to crawl into his lap, sink my hands into his hair and open his mouth with my own.
I’d watched him and I had wondered what it felt like to be with him. To get naked with him. To have sex with him because surely laying down with Ben Lancaster wasn’t anything like the hookups I’d had in the past.
That’s because my hookups over the last few years were usually drug and alcohol fueled.
My cheeks were hot and I swore as I grabbed my running gear out of the closet.
Shit, I needed to focus on something other than Ben Lancaster. The clock beside my bed glowed nearly five now and I threw my hair into a ponytail, pulled on my running gear, and headed for the kitchen to grab water.
I’d just opened the fridge door when that familiar sliver of energy told me I wasn’t alone anymore.
I turned around—as nonchalantly as I could—and hoped he couldn’t see the exploding pulse at the base of my neck. Already my nipples were pebbling and I thanked everything that was holy—or even remotely holy—that I’d worn my padded bra with the extra inch of padding.
I had to take a second or two before I could even speak, and used a few more to study him in the dim lighting.
He hadn’t shaved, so his jaw was once again shadowed with dark stubble. God, I loved that look—that I just got out of bed and I’m all man, kind of look. His hair was rumpled as if it hadn’t been brushed, though he was dressed in a Nike T-shirt, nylon shorts and he wore running shoes. He smelled of mint toothpaste. My favorite.
“I thought I’d join you.”
Shit, his voice touched on that note again, the one that gave me shivers and I cleared my throat, hoping I wouldn’t squeal like a stupid mouse when I eventually managed to say a few words.
“Oh. Good, I mean I hope you can keep up to me.” Idiot. The guy could probably run a four minute mile and not even break a sweat.
“I’ll try, but promise you’ll go easy on me.”
His grin was contagious. “We’ll see,” I answered lightly, tossing him a bottle.
“I thought maybe we could run the Rocky steps?”
I laughed and shook my head. The Rocky steps. He was adorable. “Sure, follow me.”
We headed out into the quiet early morning, and followed the trails of fog that fell along the sidewalks. There were a few other runners out, but it felt like we had the world to ourselves and for the moment I enjoyed both the silence and the feel of Ben running beside me.
We didn’t say much. We just put one foot in front of the other and by the time we reached the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the sun was peeking through the darkness. I stopped at the bottom and glanced around. We had the place to ourselves.
Ben’s damp T-shirt clung to his chest and stretched across his wide shoulders, and as he turned slightly I couldn’t help but notice the way it clung to his back, filling in all the hard nooks and crannies of his very male body. When I dragged my gaze up to his face, my heart jerked so badly I almost choked. His eyes were on me and the look within them made the heat in my belly curl hard and fast.
It was startling. My physical reaction to him. I was no angel, in fact, I was about as far away from angelic as you could get, and had been since about the age of fifteen.
God, I was the girl who would screw anyone, anytime, anywhere, because I could. Because I had the power. Because my brain chemistry was so fucked up that I felt like I could do anything I wanted with no consequence and the high was incredible.
How many times had I had sex for the express purpose of having sex because I could? Not because I wanted to? Or even enjoyed it?
Too many times to count.
And the thing of it was, I don’t have a problem with anyone—girls or guys—hooking up because they want to or because it felt good. I don’t have a problem with that because they own their bodies and as long as they’re in control emotionally it’s all good. Hell, I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if someone had an orgy every single night as long as it’s what they wanted.
There was no judging.
The problem with my past was that most of the hookups and crazy shit I’d done had been because I could, because they filled in the holes and made me feel powerful, not because I wanted to and that’s a huge difference.
But now I had Ben Lancaster with his eyes that were wa
y too dark and way too sexy and at the moment, in this silence that blanketed us, they were way too damn intense.
I should have dragged my gaze from his and studied Stallone’s sculpture. Maybe glanced up at the sky and commented on the humidity and the fact that I thought it was going to be a bitch of a day. I should have done anything to break this connection. But I didn’t. Instead I caught my breath and just took him in.
His hair curled around his face, the humidity and moisture making the waves crazy and those damn eyes were relentless as they stared back at me.
“Do you want to…” My voice trailed off as I nodded toward the top of the stairs.
He didn’t look away and my mouth went dry. “Yeah, I want to.”
“Okay,” I managed to get out as I took a step back. “Last one to the top is a dumb ass loser.”
I whirled around and bolted, my legs pumping fast and furious. I couldn’t handle the way he was looking at me because I didn’t want it to stop. And that was so wrong. There could never be a Ben and Georgia because on what planet did a guy who had everything ever end up with someone like me? Someone damaged. Someone who popped lithium and klonopin because if she didn’t things would go to shit.
Someone who could snap at any moment.
I flew up the steps, my lungs burning as I took them like the devil was on my ass, and I suppose in a way he was. A hot, delectable devil that represented everything I wanted and could never have.
Guys like Ben Lancaster belonged with girls who could handle life. He belonged with a girl who wasn’t afraid that every single day she was moving closer and closer to an inevitable end.
One her mother had taken three years ago.
My bracelets jangled crazily as I reached the top and I shook out my hands, but the decision to nip whatever the hell it was between us in the bud, died when I glanced back and watched him walk toward me. He’d just cleared the top step, a huge grin on his face and I couldn’t help it, my lips curved and I giggled.
He was walking around in a circle, swaggering and throwing his arms down like he was in the ring. The Rocky theme song fell from his mouth and the more exaggerated his moves got the more I giggled.
A few early morning souls appeared from nowhere and glanced our way but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about any of it. When was the last time I’d been with someone who just didn’t give a shit?
Okay, let me rephrase. When was the last time I had been with someone who didn’t give a shit and wasn’t higher than a kite?
But then something changed. Something subtle yet so powerful the hair stood up on the back of my neck. My mouth was still dry and I fingered my empty water bottle. I thought that even if the damn thing was full, it would never quench the thirst I was feeling.
Ben advanced on me, his steps slow and assured, like a lion or a tiger on the prowl.
Instinctively, I took a step back, my belly clenched, my heart beating so fast I was pretty sure both Ben and the people behind him could hear it. Hell, the sound of it clogged my ears and for a second I was disoriented.
And then he was so close to me that his musky, potent scent filled my nose. It was like spice and mint rolled into one. Hot and cold at the same time. It washed over me, it fell into me, and oh my fucking god did I like it. No one who had just run for over an hour and a half should smell as good as Ben Lancaster did.
For one frozen moment in time I stared up into his eyes and waited for something to happen. His thick lashes were moist, beads of sweat pebbled across his forehead, and his breathing was as ragged and broken as mine.
I opened my mouth to say something. Anything.
We can’t do this.
We’re so wrong for each other.
Matt will kill us.
“Do you feel this?” he whispered hoarsely. “You have to feel this. It can’t just be me. There’s no fucking way it can just be me.”
My mouth was open but nothing came out. I felt all of it. Every. Single. Bit of it.
And then his hand slid behind my neck, cradling me just above my shoulders, his long fingers moving over my body with a hunger and an urgency that I matched. I might have moaned, in fact, I’m sure I did because his eyes widened, and his lips parted.
I felt…I felt crazy but without the crazy.
It was the anticipation. It was all the moments and seconds and minutes that had passed between us over the last few days. It was that first time I’d glanced over my shoulder and spied him in Matt’s loft. It was his breath at my cheek the night before. It was want.
It was all of that and so much more.
“I feel you,” I whispered.
And then his hot, demanding mouth was on mine, and that so much more, became suddenly clear.
It was everything.
Chapter Seven
Ben
Georgia felt amazing.
Better than I’d imagined and trust me, I had spent most of the night lying in that pullout sofa that was about two sizes too small, thinking how good she would feel curled up against me.
Or beneath me. Naked. Preferably totally fucking naked.
I had been dying to wrap my arms around her and kiss her senseless ever since dinner the night before. It’s all I had thought about. How I would taste her, hold her, devour her. Christ, staring across a dinner table and watching her eat was too much. She made eating a meatball look like oral foreplay and the thing of it was, she wasn’t working it. She was listening to whatever bullshit I was saying and she was nibbling on that piece of meat and I was envisioning her mouth nibbling something else entirely.
It had been a long night.
And this morning, watching her run to the top of the museum steps, her sweet round ass and those trim dancer’s legs right there in front of me, was nearly too much. I’d been battling a case of the nerves ever since I’d laid eyes on her in the kitchen a few hours earlier.
Me. Ben Lancaster. A guy who had not gotten this worked up over a girl since my older sister Amanda’s best friend, Tiffany, took my virginity when I was fourteen. I’d been a wreck then, but shit, there was a hell of a lot of experience between the guy I’d been—a kid who had blown his load five seconds in—and the guy I was now.
I’m not boasting but in my world women were like candy, and I might have been a lot more concerned about the type of candy I ate than some of the guys on my team, but I sure as hell liked to dip my fingers in every now and again and taste whatever was there.
My point was that I knew my way around women, but this girl, this hot little package with eyes that felt as if they could see into my soul, she had me tied up in all sorts of knots.
And she felt fucking fantastic.
I groaned as her mouth opened beneath mine, it felt that good. Her tongue danced along the edge of my mouth before she sank deep inside. I heard her make a noise, a half wild kind of sound, and my dick sprang to life as my hands buried themselves into her hair. It had come loose from her ponytail and at the moment I was using it as an anchor to hold her head steady so I could taste every inch of her.
I felt her arms at my waist and as I let go of her mouth and slid my lips down the side of her neck she wrapped them around me and held on tight.
I couldn’t help myself. I let my hands wander down her back until I cupped her butt and pulled her in as close as I could. My erection strained against her and for a moment I couldn’t think clearly. I was hot and tight and I felt like I was crawling out of my skin.
What the hell had this girl done to me?
“Oh, Ben,” she whispered into my neck.
Jesus. Christ. If I didn’t get some distance and perspective I was going to lose it big time. Blowing my load five seconds in when I was fourteen wasn’t anything compared to blowing my load when I was twenty-four and I wasn’t even in.
When I was making out with the hottest girl I’d ever met at the top of the Rocky steps. In public. Hell the fuck yeah, that would be bad.
I slid my mouth back to hers and loosened my ironclad grip on her as
s. It took everything I had to brush a soft kiss across her lips and let her go.
I was aware that a group of guys who had run up behind us were watching and I tossed them a dark look of warning before I grabbed Georgia’s hand and pulled her down the stairs. I didn’t say anything until we reached the bottom, mostly because I had no idea what to say.
Sorry for sticking my tongue down your throat and feeling up your ass in public?
“We should go,” she said softly.
The moment was gone and I said nothing.
We started out at a nice easy pace and I did my best to match my long strides to her shorter ones and after an hour we slowed to a leisurely walk. American pride was everywhere, the stars and stripes, red, white, and blue. Growing up Canadian, I was used to a much more subdued display when my country’s birthday, July 1st, rolled around. But I had to give it to the Americans, they sure liked their flags and parades and it was nice. Real nice.
We stopped at a corner, one I recognized and I knew we weren’t far from Matt’s loft. I spied a coffee shop that advertised all you can eat breakfast across the street and glanced down at Georgia.
“I don’t know about you but I’m starved. Do you want to grab some breakfast?” I pointed to the coffee shop.
“Oh.” She sounded distracted, her eyebrows arched as she followed my finger. “Uh, I don’t have any money on me. I didn’t think to bring any.”
A guy and his overweight golden retriever walked toward us and he slowed down a few feet away. I couldn’t tell if he was staring at Georgia or if he was giving me the once over. I knew the look—that cross between do I know this guy or is he really who I think he is—and I didn’t want any interruptions. I don’t mind signing autographs and if I was at a charity event or a game I’d sign them until my fingers cramped, but not today.
Today I wanted to be a normal guy out with a beautiful girl on the Fourth of July.