Loose Ends

by A. M. Hartnett

  “I wanted to see you,” he admitted, and something tickled in Sophie’s stomach as she scanned his whole face. His smile widened and Sophie almost went weak at the sight of his previously hidden dimples as he stroked where his beard had been. “What do you think?”

  “Weird, but I like it. Why did you shave?”

  “I found a couple of grey hairs.”

  “So, you screamed like a frightened child and hacked off your beard?”

  “Something like that. I’m not ready to look old yet, and having a grey beard will make me look old. Grey hair I can manage, but I’m not going to be one of those men who dyes a beard.”

  Fighting the compulsion to sweep her hand across his naked chin, Sophie cupped her glass with both hands.

  Ben tilted his head and looked down at her dress. His expression turned hungry in an instant, and the hand on her knee curved inward to rest upon her thigh.

  “You clean up nicely. Look at you now with your hair up and so much to look at.”

  “You’ve seen everything before,” she told him, and was surprised by how smoky the words had come out.

  Though she longed to part her legs for him and invite the touch that had given her so much pleasure two nights ago, she brought her knees closer together.

  Ben raised a brow and smirked. “I have, but it’s not all about getting naked. There’s something to be said about presentation.”

  Remembering the tie she had insisted he wear, and she had used to keep him close, Sophie gave her head a slight bob in agreement.

  “I wanted to see you,” he repeated, leaning closer. “I wanted to call, but you were pretty clear about the whole arms distance thing after ...”

  The queer sensation in her stomach that had crept upon her during unsuspecting moments in after resurged. Like the dozens of times before in the last couple of days, she bullied it back down and called upon her common sense.

  It was an exercise in failure. She was glad to see him. Just sitting with him seemed to be enough, looking at him and touching him, and breathing in--

  She straightened and couldn’t catch her laugh before it escaped. “Are you wearing bubble gum perfume?”

  Ben clucked his tongue. “I’m not wearing it. I was caught in the line of fire.”

  “Kayla?”

  Both brows went up. “You remembered her name.”

  Sophie tapped her index finger against her temple. “I’ve got one of those brains that can absorb details about people and places. Just don’t ask me to remember why I got up to go to the kitchen for.”

  “All right, so I look weird and I smell like an eight year-old girl. Where does that get me? Can I help you clean up after the party?”

  “I still haven’t made up my mind yet.”

  “So I’m still just a rebound?”

  She almost said yes, but she kept the word tucked under her tongue. She never would have been able to commit to the lie. She hadn’t been able to convince herself that fucking Ben had been just a good hard screw. She liked him far more than she had ever been willing to admit, and before he’d wrapped her into his arms on that elevator she didn’t even realize she liked him a little.

  “God, I hate that word,” she told him.

  “And I love how fierce you look when you get riled up, so I’ll keep using it until you give me another word to set you off.”

  “I admit it. I do like you,” she confessed, feeling a little light-headed as she did so. “You’re an arrogant prick, but I have to admit that I enjoy getting riled up. You’re also kind of sweet. That doesn’t make it a good idea outside of the bedroom.”

  “And why might that be?”

  “You work long hours --”

  “--and you’re an insomniac writer who complements my schedule,” he teased, and leaned closer.

  Sophie ignored him. “I’m constantly going out of town to do conferences--”

  “--which is a good thing, because I like to have a little alone time every once in a while.”

  “And you have a kid. I’m about the least kid-friendly person you’re ever going to meet. I can’t handle small humans.”

  “You haven’t met my kid. Listen, Sophie, I admit that right now the only thing we’ve got behind us is a lengthy and sometimes combative business relationship and one unforgettable night, but it if makes any difference to you at all I’ve spent the better half of that business relationship trying to figure out how to turn the former into the latter, and not just to get my dick wet. I figured there would be some sort of seduction in between that would take a little more wining and dining, but here we are. I’m not going to push you, but you’ll have to do a little more convincing if you want me to back off now that you’ve admitted you don’t hate my guts.”

  Sophie twisted her mouth to keep her smile at bay, but she found herself impervious to the dubious tilt of his scarred brow.

  “I have swords, you know,” she warned playfully, and before her nerve abandoned her she cupped his clean cheek. “I do know how to use them to fend off unwanted suitors.”

  “Do you really?”

  “No, they’re more for show, but imagine how much more dangerous I’ll be merely pretending to know what I’m doing.” She leaned closer. “But I’ll give a killer speech after I do it. I’ll say things like ‘on my honor’ and ‘filthy mongrel’ and ‘I’ll cut your throat before I let you lay a hand on me.’”

  “Call me a filthy mongrel and that’ll only turn me on. I prefer your dirty talk to your fancy talk,” he said, and bowed towards her. “Give me a chance, or two, or ten. I’ve got no problem with taking it slow.”

  What a temptation this version of Ben had brought to her doorstep. He didn’t strike her as the needy, clingy type like her ex had been, but she still wasn’t convinced. She’d been married since she was eighteen, and the time she’d had since her separation didn’t seem like enough of it.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about dating someone who knows everything about my finances,” she said, trying for one last brick in her wall of resistance.

  “Tell you what. I’ll keep you adequately distracted while I rob you of every dime.”

  Sophie giggled. “And how might you do that?”

  A hungry growl accompanied the track his hand made along her inner thigh. “Keep me around after the party and you’ll find out.”

  She placed her wrist over his as he stroked her through the thin barrier of her panties. “After the party. Come on. I need to introduce you to my folks.”

  Ben laughed and raised his brows. “Now who’s moving too fast?”

  “Shush. My dad will want to meet the man who saved his little girl a bundle -- and then give you hell for charging her a bundle.”

  Within ten minutes, Ben Croft, Queen’s Council, became her father’s newest best friend, her mother’s hero, and the sounding board to every guest who had gone through a divorce or know someone who had gone through a divorce. Sophie left him to their mercy, finding Yvonne once more and settling at the kitchen island turned bar with another bottle.

  “Absolutely fucking gorgeous,” Yvonne said as they watched Ben mingle about the room. “That’s quite the step-up from the failed musician with adult acne.”

  Sophie had a rule about talking shit about her ex to anyone from their former social circle, but the envy that Yvonne laid on thick combined with the hot looks Ben shot her from across the room made it impossible to argue.

  “Yes, he is.”

  “I take it he’ll be spending the night?”

  Sophie said nothing, instead letting her grin answer Yvonne’s question.

  “If my opinion counts for anything, he’ll be good for you.”

  “Oh, stop,” Sophie snapped, and the nasty look she gave Yvonne was followed by an apology. “I don’t need someone who is good for me. I’m good for me, and I don’t need anyone.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know, and I know you didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just ...” Sophie swiveled around
, turning her back on the sight of Ben so she could clarify her thoughts in her own head. “I have what I need. It’s what I want that I’m having trouble with.”

  “What is it you want?”

  “I don’t know and that’s the problem. I don’t want to jump headfirst into something just because it seems like a good idea at the time. That’s how I got into that marriage.”

  “And also how you got all of this,” Yvonne countered, gesturing to the condo around her. “You wanted to be a writer and so you wrote a book. You jumped headfirst into making that happen, and now you don’t have to worry about money. The only time you’ve ever really hesitated was when you decided to get divorced. It took you a year and a half to make up your mind to pack your shit and leave, and you honestly can’t tell me that you’re not sorry you waited. Can you?”

  Yvonne screwed up her brows in a “you know I’m right” way and filled Sophie’s glass almost to the rim, then filled her own.

  She narrowed her eyes as she lifted the glass. “And just so we’re clear, when I said he’d be good for you, what I actually meant was that he’d be good for your vagina. I’d never suggest a man would be good for your self-respect.”

  “I appreciate your ongoing concern for my vagina. Do they make thank you cards for that specific gratitude?”

  “Probably on the same rack you can find the ‘Congratulations on Banging Your Divorce Lawyer’ card. Cheers.”

  They clinked glasses, and two more after that before the party came to a close.

  Chapter Six

  Wine always did make Sophie horny, and she’d had enough to turn her into pure sex on legs once she bid adieu to Don in 413 as he made his exit. She closed the door behind him and rested her hand on the smooth surface, taking a moment to reflect upon the events of Friday night in her head before moving on, thirsty for more.

  When she didn’t find him in the living room her stomach dropped. Had he changed his mind and bolted? She groaned at the thought, then crept along the squat hallway to see if he might be in the bathroom, but instead found him leaning in the entrance to her bedroom.

  “Not quite what I was expecting,” he remarked, looking inside.

  “I know what you were expecting -- a Tolkienesque abomination. Bed made out of ancient trees. A wardrobe big enough to stuff a few dwarves in. Maybe an authentic rack in the corner instead of a lovely chaise.” Ben raised his brow, and Sophie returned his grin. “That was my first design scheme until I was talked out of it.”

  “I like it. Very ‘come hither.’”

  “It works,” she said, brushing past him with a look that served as an invitation. “I know you’re not supposed to blur lines, but I work in here almost as much as I work in my office. It’s a habit I can’t break myself of. When I was a kid and I started writing, I did so in the privacy of my own bedroom. When I was married, the bedroom was the only place I could get any quiet while Ray watched his shows or go to yakking on the phone. Now I just gravitate here.”

  “I can relate to that, though for much different reasons that have nothing to do with your productivity,” he teased and followed her inside.

  He swept his gaze to one side where there was a small seating area, and to the other where her dresser and vanity was, then fell upon her as she knelt on the enormous bed with its tufted headboard and fluffy duvet spread over a plush mattress she couldn’t wait to sink into as he rose over her.

  As she rocked back and forth on her knees, Ben undressed. By the time he was down to his black sport socks a thrum had begun between her legs, tempting her to slip her fingers beneath her skirt. Already hard, he climbed onto the bed, her mirror image, and tugged the thin straps at her shoulders.

  “Did you come up with another word to get me riled up?” she whispered against his mouth as he unzipped her around the back.

  “I’ve got three. What does ‘ride my cock’ do to you?”

  “Very bad things,” she whispered, and bubbled over with laughter as he nuzzled into the crook beneath her ear.

  “What?” he murmured.

  “Your face. I got over looking at it naked, but feeling it ...”

  With a laugh that could only be described as evil, Ben flipped her onto her back and buried that naked face into the ample cleavage her halter dress created. She shrieked with laughter and wriggled as he tugged the garment off.

  “Boring writer in a cardigan wearing some very sexy red panties under her very sexy dress.” Ben clicked his tongue as he tucked his thumb in her waistband. He drew the flimsy panties down slowly, and ascended just as lazily by tasting every inch on his way back up to her lips.

  “Tell me,” she said on a sigh as settled on top of her. “Is this some elaborate plot to whisk me off my feet and get a ring on my finger so you can clean up in a divorce settlement once the money starts rolling in?”

  “I could do that, couldn’t I?” he said thoughtfully, and laughed when she slapped his bare shoulder. “It wouldn’t be hard. I’m very convincing and I know how to twist you up.”

  Indeed. As he looked down upon her he moved, legs sprawling to open hers and his cock rubbing between slick pussy lips. She cupped the back of his neck and melted into a lazy kiss as the underbelly of his shaft glided along her fattening clit.

  “I should warn you that this bed hasn’t been put through its paces,” she said in a pant as he turned his attention to the ticklish spot where her shoulder met her neck.

  “A virgin bed?” he teased, the vibration of his words sending a shiver through her.

  “No pressure or anything, but I won’t complain about a bent mid beam or cracked headboard.”

  Ben raised his head. “What exactly do you plan to do to me?”

  Giggling, Sophie bucked against him until their roles were reversed, and Ben sprawled beneath her.

  “Worried I’ll unleash my inner warrior queen?”

  “Absolutely.”

  His warm hands never stopped moving over her bare skin and he kept the fever beneath the surface simmering as she plucked a condom from her night stand. She settled back upon his furry thighs and looked down at the ruddy column standing erect against her.

  “I hope you didn’t have an early morning, because now that you’re here I’ve got plans for you all night,” she warned.

  “I’ve got nowhere to be tomorrow morning.”

  “Hooking off of work?”

  “I never work Mondays. I’ll work on weekends, but never on Mondays.”

  Sophie tore open the condom. “You’ve met me on Monday.”

  Ben grinned and took the condom from her. “You were my only exception.”

  It sounded like a line, but she didn’t think so. She recalled that first attempt to meet with him on Monday morning and being shot down, only to get a call from his receptionist later that day to let her know he’d be free for three o’clock. He’d accommodated her every time.

  And his eyes didn’t lie. She was sure of it. There was nothing there but earnestness and adoration. It made her warm all over, made her palms and the soles of her feet tingle.

  She quickly unfurled the condom down his cock and leaned over him, desperate to kiss him while this warmth still moved through her. Ben was passive, angling his head and parting his lips to her seeking tongue.

  Ben cradled her with one hand as she rose up and reached between them, then lowered her until the thick head stretched her. Sophie sucked in a quick breath as she sheathed him, then began to move.

  “Right there,” he murmured as she rocked so get the best of him against her g-spot, and clamped down with her shiver. “Just take it.”

  “You think I’m the one doing all the work here tonight? I don’t think so.” she teased and scraped her nails along his forearms so that the coarse hairs stood as though electrified, then returned his grin.

  Her big talk ended as he clamped down and bucked up hard and fast. The frenzy was short-lived and left her delirious, and Ben unleashing that low laugh upon her.

  “Like that?”
he asked, then shook free one hand from her grip and tucked it where their bodies met. “Or like this?”

  “Oh, don’t make me choose,” she said on a moan as he rubbed his thumb around her clit.

  “Why not? Why do you get to call the shots?”

  Sophie bit down on her retort and rocked as much as his grip would allow her. She loved that this thing that had sprung up hadn’t made the delicious combat between them come to a halt. It no longer crackled in the air but sizzled between them, moving from her body to his as though they were one.

  She raised a brow. “Need I remind you that I am the client and it’s your job to satisfy all my needs.”

  His smile widened. “I thought our professional relationship ended once you got that decree.”

  “Our professional relationship ends when I cut you that last cheque,” she retorted, and pushed up onto her knees. With only the tip remaining, she placed her hand over his and lined their fingers. “So, as I was saying--”

  “Once more, that makes me sound like a different sort of professional.”

  “Well …”

  She laughed with the stinging slap delivered to her ass, but he allowed her to push and pull his finger against swollen, slick flesh.

  “Is this the part where you tell me you want your money’s worth?” he whispered.

  “You saying you didn’t already give me my money’s worth?”

  “Oh, that one’s going to leave a burn. I hope it’s not the only one you send me home with.” He replaced the support of his lone hand by bending his thighs, and pushed upon onto one elbow. “I’ll give you a little of this, and then I’ll give you a little of that, and then I’ll give you a little more.”

  Round and around he stroked her. A little of this, until she was soaked and squirming over his dick. A little of this, and she braced her arms behind her and gripped his thighs just above the knee. A little of this, and she pushed his hand away when the pleasure became too much.

  And then, a little of that. He flopped back down, took her hips, and drove up.

  “What did you say about you being the one to do all the work?” His voice came hard from the back of his throat and quaked with his unrelenting thrusts. “Looks to me like I’m the one working up a sweat.”