Ben looked away, shaking his head with aggravation. “Fuck, Layla! I want you. You have no idea how bad. Get on your fucking back.”
His hands were back on her hips, and he dug his fingertips in, on the verge of flipping her over himself.
“Lay down,” she said firmly. He fought against his urge, reminding himself he’d agreed she was in charge for this two weeks. Why the hell had he suggested that?
As soon as his head hit the pillow, her warm, wet mouth was back on him, and Ben squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to come. He tried to think about work, but it was impossible to focus on anything but the building ache of his climax.
“Layla . . .” She looked up at him from beneath her long, dark lashes and his whole body tensed as he was pushed over the edge. He pulled on the sheets so hard he was sure he’d rip them as he groaned loudly and his body went slack with satisfaction.
Layla rose and ran a finger across her lips, climbing up closer to him. Ben let out a small laugh and pulled her against his chest. “I didn’t expect . . . you didn’t have to do that,” he said.
“I’m only doing things I want this week, remember?” she said, her lips brushing his neck as she spoke. “Did you like it?”
“Like it?” He laughed again. “It was amazing. You make me crazy, Cupcake, you really do. You test my self-control in ways it’s never been tested. I hope you plan to give me a turn now.”
“No, this is what I want,” she said, burrowing closer against him.
“This doesn’t compare to what I can do to your—”
“It does,” she said, cutting him off. “For me, it does. I want to fall asleep like this tonight. Not with me on one side and you on the other. That’s what I want you to do for me. But I want to get my clothes back on first.”
She put the boxers and strappy shirt back on, and Ben pulled the boxers she’d stripped off him back on. He settled into the center of the bed and held am arm out toward her, warming as she snuggled herself into him.
“Hey,” he said softly, tipping his head up as she raised her head off of his chest to meet his eyes. He reached a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her toward him for a soft, slow kiss. The salty aftertaste of himself in her mouth made him want more of her, but she had circles beneath her eyes, so he released her and stroked his fingers over her hair when she laid her head back down on him.
The ache had left his balls and settled in his chest. Ben stared into the darkness, bothered by the possessive feeling that still gripped him. He’d known he wanted to own Layla’s body, even if only for a few weeks, but other needs were taking hold now. Being the one she trusted for comfort and affection had become surprisingly important to him.
Chapter 8
Layla suppressed the smile that threatened to spread across her face as Ben stuffed himself into the passenger seat of her Honda Accord. His knees rested against the glove box and his head was nearly against the roof of her small car.
“Uh . . . that seat should move back,” she said. He reached under the seat and found the handle, pushing himself back until there was a little space between his knees and the glove box. Layla felt a stab of regret as she looked over at his tightly set jaw.
“Don’t be mad at me,” she said.
“I’m not mad. Just thinking about how good you’re gonna look on the back of my bike next weekend.”
“Are you serious about that? I’ve never even been on a motorcycle.”
“I’m completely serious,” Ben said. “By the end of my two weeks, my name’s gonna be tattooed on your ass.”
Layla scoffed as she pulled the car out into the line of speeding vehicles. “We’ll see about that.”
“You’re driving with me as a passenger in your girly car so we can attend a wedding. You might as well just complete the castration by making me listen to boy bands the whole way.” Ben’s voice was gruff and Layla couldn’t help laughing at him.
“Did I tell you I appreciate you coming with me?” she said. “I know you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. You drive me crazy, woman, but I like it.”
A warm feeling filled Layla and she smiled. Of all the weddings she’d been a bridesmaid in over the past several years, this was the first time she’d had a date to one. She’d always been the bridesmaid who hooked up with one of the groomsmen after the wedding. Or, in one case, right before. It was nice to feel legitimate for once.
“You can choose the music,” she said, thinking about the schedule for the weekend ahead.
“It’ll be sports talk radio.” Ben reached for the dials on the dash and tuned in a Cubs game. “Even better.”
“My firm has box seats at Wrigley,” Layla said. “I’ve wanted to go since I started working there, but I haven’t made it yet.”
“You like baseball?” Ben’s brows arched with surprise.
“Yeah, my dad was always into it when I was growing up.”
“Let’s go to a game sometime.”
“Okay.”
“But we’re sitting in the bleachers, not box seats,” he said. “So what’s the deal with the wedding? There’s a dinner tonight?”
“Yep, we’ve got the rehearsal and dinner tonight. Then I think we’re going out to some bars. In the morning I have to be at the salon early, but I’ll ride with one of the others girls so you can keep the car and meet me at the wedding. The ceremony’s at two, and then we’ll be at the reception all evening. And Sunday morning we have to do a farewell breakfast thing.”
“I’m yours all weekend, so just tell me where to be.”
The voices announcing the baseball game held their attention for a while, and Layla thought back to the crazy nights out she’d had with Kelly and other friends from law school. She’d been just as wild then as she was in college, and she cringed inwardly at the thought of running into guys at the wedding who she’d slept with. Kelly’s fiancé Liam had been in the class a year ahead of them, and they had a lot of common friends.
Though it was a long drive, it passed quickly, and Layla parked in the garage of the hotel where the reception was being held.
“I think I got a suite. I don’t remember,” she said absently as she searched her purse for her confirmation number. Ben got out of the car quickly, stretching his legs and arms.
“You want me to bring in the bags now?” he asked.
Layla pushed a button to pop the trunk open. “We might as well, I think we have a little time before the rehearsal.”
She walked to the back of the car and reached in, but Ben shook his head. “You can check in, I’m getting the bags.”
“But I’m completely capable—”
“I know, but I’m getting the bags.”
“Ben—”
“Come on, Layla. You’ve got your nails done all nice, what if you break one?” He raised his brows and grinned at her.
She considered for a second. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Layla checked in and led the way to their room, where Ben delivered the bags in two trips. She sprawled out on the queen-size bed and smiled when he climbed on from the foot of the bed, leaning over her and supporting himself on his elbows.
Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they roamed beneath his t-shirt to caress the hard, defined lines of his back. He had a thin layer of sweat from carrying in the bags, and she sank her fingertips into his moist skin. By the way he pressed his body against hers, she knew he liked it. He kissed her slow and easy, his clean-shaven face smooth when it brushed hers.
But his sweat and sandalwood smell had woken a desire for more in Layla, and she clutched her hands against his back and deepened the kiss. Ben’s lips and tongue wandered from her mouth down to her neck, and she tipped her head back blissfully.
“Mmm, Ben.” She gripped his shoulders and his mouth found its way even lower, to the curves of her breasts that showed in her bright blue v-neck dress. One of his big hands slid up her thigh beneath the dress and her breath caught w
hen his fingertips crept under the edge of her panties.
He pushed the fabric of her dress up over her stomach, and she squirmed when his warm breath touched her skin there. “Ah …”
She knew she should tell him to stop, but it felt so good she couldn’t make her mouth say anything. His lips caressed the seams of her panties – along her waistline and against her thighs. He hooked his fingers in the sides and moved them down an inch and Layla tensed.
“No . . . we should get going.” She shifted herself slightly, away from his hands.
Ben’s lips brushed her inner thigh as he tried to coax her. “Come on, we’ve got a little time.”
“I need to fix myself up a bit so we can go.”
“Are you nervous? Your legs are shaking.”
“No. I’m just . . . cold is all.” Layla slid from the bed and walked into the bathroom, where she pressed her back against the closed door and let out a deep breath. Her purse sat on the bathroom counter, and she reached in and pulled out her pale pink lipstick and applied it. She ran her fingers through her hair in an effort to fix it, eyeing her purse.
On a whim, she grabbed her phone and texted Emma.
Something’s wrong with me.
What’s going on? Are you ok?
Not really. I can’t have sex with Ben.
Why not?
Having sex makes me feel like a slut. I don’t want to feel that way with him.
A return message didn’t pop up instantly, and Layla stared at her reflection in the mirror. She’d given up her whore-ish behavior, but there was nothing she could do to stop the feelings it had left her with.
You are NOT a slut. You’re a great person and Ben really likes you. Just relax and give it time.
I really like him. I don’t want him to think I don’t want him.
He seems like a good guy. Maybe you should tell him how you feel.
I don’t want him to know how slutty I used to be. It’s embarrassing.
We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.
I just can’t tell him. He won’t see me the same way anymore. Have to go, we’re going to the rehearsal.
Call me later if you need to talk.
Layla stepped out of the bathroom, pasting on a smile.
“Ready?”
Ben sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands and wearing a serious expression. “Do we need to talk?” he asked.
“No. I mean, we can, but let’s talk on the way so we’re not late.”
Ben studied her as they left the room. “Talk to me.”
“I’m just . . . nervous, okay? It’s been a long time since anyone’s been in that neighborhood.”
“You don’t need to be nervous with me.” He stopped in the middle of the hallway and Layla paused, too, looking up into his light blue eyes. “I’ll go slow and trust me, I know how to make you forget your nerves.”
“I know. It’s not that.”
A middle-aged couple stepped out of another room and two kids bounced out behind them. Layla smiled at Ben and he reached for her hand, walking her silently to the elevator. The family chattered as they all got on, and Layla took a breath to calm her frayed nerves. Her confidence was MIA, and her libido was pissed. Hopefully a few drinks at the rehearsal dinner would help.
***
Kelly, the bride-to-be, reached for the tray of shots a waitress had delivered and passed them around the table. Layla looked at the amber liquid and gave Ben a wary glance.
“Will you do mine, too?” she asked, leaning her forehead against his shoulder.
“You okay?” he asked. She’d been trashed for hours, and the high was wearing down now.
“Eh.”
“To Liam and Kelly and their new life of sexless enslavement!” one of the groomsmen yelled, hoisting his shot glass into the air. Layla grabbed hers and raised it halfheartedly, sliding it to Ben when everyone else was drinking. He tipped them both past his lips quickly.
“What time is it?” Layla mumbled.
“It’s 1:30.”
“I think I’m done,” she said, raising her head.
“We’re gonna have to cab it, I drank a lot, too,” he said. “I’ll come get the car in the morning.”
They rose to say their goodbyes and Kelly reached for Ben with a hug.
“It’s nice to see Layla with someone,” she said in his ear. “You take good care of her. I love that girl.”
She pulled away before he could respond, and Ben scowled when he saw one of the groomsmen pressed against Layla, one hand gripping her back and another cupping her ass.
“Luscious Layla,” he slurred. “I’m the only guy here you’ve never blown. Let’s go in the bathroom and . . . fix that.”
Ben approached and reached for Layla, who stumbled toward him and grabbed his hand.
“You’re an ass, Cramer,” she said.
“Am I right or am I wrong?” the stocky man yelled, leering at her. “Raise your hand if you’ve got a dick and Layla’s never sucked it!” He smirked as he stuck his hand in the air.
Ben’s nostrils flared with anger as he released Layla’s hand. He shoved the smartass chubby guy, sending him bouncing off a nearby table and spilling onto the floor. It’d been a while since he’d been in a fight, but this guy had left him no choice. He vaguely remembered he’d be in serious trouble at work if he got arrested, but the alcohol had made things cloudy and nothing was as important as smashing this guy’s face right now.
He approached Cramer, who crawled away on his back. Ben leaned down to pull him up from the floor before striking, but felt arms on his, holding him back. He turned and saw Liam pushing back one of his shoulders. Two other men each held one of his arms.
“Hey, sorry, man,” Liam said. He was plastered, too, and his blond hair stuck up in messy spikes. “I know he was out of line, but Kelly will flip out over black eyes and missing teeth in our wedding pictures.”
“Ben,” Layla said from behind him, laying a hand on his back. “Let’s just go.”
His tension dissipated, but he glared at Cramer, making sure he stayed flat on the floor until they were gone.
“See you in the morning,” Layla said to the women, lacing her fingers through Ben’s. She tried to lead the way, but looked at him, confused. “Where’s the door again?”
He smiled and led her toward the exit. As soon as they stepped into the muggy summer night air, he waved and a cab parked at the corner headed their way. They climbed into the back and Ben pulled Layla’s hand into his lap as she gave the driver the name of the hotel.
“Hey, I need to ask you something,” he said. “Earlier, when we were at the first bar and you’d had a few drinks, you made a comment about me thinking you’re a drunk and a slut. Why’d you say that?”
“Who knows, Ben? I was drunk. Still am, I think. God, I’m tired.” She laid her head in his lap and he brushed the hair back from her face.
“Tell me, Layla.”
She sighed, turning her face to look up at him. “This is the second time you’ve seen me get trashed and we haven’t known each other that long. And . . . you heard what Cramer said. I’m like the car that everyone’s already driven. Who wants that? You’re a man.” She reached up and touched a fingertip to his nose. “You want a shiny, new car.”
“You’re not a slut, Layla. I don’t think that. Hey, look at me . . . I don’t think that.”
She laughed, her dimples making a brief appearance. “You say that, but you don’t know how many—”
“It doesn’t matter to me.” He ran a hand over her dark, silky hair.
“Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we close to the hotel? Cause I think I’m gonna puke.”
***
The church pews were laden with clusters of white roses and greenery, and the sweet fragrance of the flowers filled the enormous room. A wistful wave hit Layla as she watched Liam bend to kiss Kelly. They were both beaming when they parted and he raised her hand into the air vict
oriously.
Kelly made a beautiful bride. She was lean and graceful, her long chestnut hair in an elegant knot at the nape of her neck. Layla had tried on her glistening tiara before the ceremony and resisted the urge to take a selfie.
Liam’s younger brother Marlon was her escort, and he grinned as Layla slipped her arm into his. He was tall and lanky, with shaggy blond hair that matched Liam’s.
She searched through the rows of guests as they walked down the aisle, hoping to catch Ben’s eye. He hadn’t seen her in her strapless pale pink dress before the ceremony. She’d left the room in sweats and a grungy t-shirt, with no makeup and a ponytail. After a couple hours at a salon, she was now perfectly made up and had her hair swept into a loose updo, with a few wavy tendrils escaping.
They made it to the end of the aisle, and Marlon glanced down at her breasts as she pulled her arm away. She waited on the stone steps of the church as Kelly and Liam greeted guests inside. Where was Ben?
An alarm sounded in her head, and she wondered if he’d even come to the wedding. They hadn’t talked all day. He’d said he was going to find somewhere to work out when she left for the salon and that he’d meet her at the church. But what if he’d changed his mind?
Kelly’s sister Beth stood next to Layla, waiting, but Layla couldn’t force herself to make conversation. She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes closed.
It’s not worth crying over, Layla. Pull yourself together.
“Hey.” The deep voice made her snap her eyes open, and she grinned, relieved to see Ben approaching. “You okay?”
“I’m good,” she said.
“Hi, I’m Beth.” Layla’s fellow bridesmaid lunged toward Ben, hand outstretched. Her gaze roved up and down his body. He did look particularly good in a dark charcoal suit, light blue shirt and striped tie.
“Hey, I’m Ben.”
“He’s with me,” Layla said, reaching her arms up to his neck for a hug.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured in her ear. She wove her hand into his as they waited with the gathering crowd of guests outside the church for Liam and Kelly to exit into the horse-drawn carriage that would take them to the reception.
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