by Robyn Grady
‘Ben Scott, you are absolutely resistible.’
His face lowered close to hers. Spice and musk filled her lungs, burrowed beneath her skin, throbbed through her veins. When his lips parted a hair’s breadth from hers, a wonderful drugging pulse kicked off at her core. Lord, she was melting from the inside out.
‘Do you remember that last time we were together?’ he murmured, tilting his head so his warm breath mingled with hers. She quivered. Another millimetre and she could taste him again.
‘Do you remember what you said?’ he asked.
Her cheeks flamed. She remembered her words. She remembered how he hadn’t hesitated to grant her wish. More than anything she remembered how it had felt every time he’d invented a new way to make her fly. Lord above, she was taking off only thinking about it, which was, no doubt, his plan.
His fingertip slid up and down the centre front of her skirt. ‘Say it for me now.’
Her heart belted a mesmerising rhythm against her ribs. He was frying her brain. Crushing her strength.
‘Ben,’ she begged, ‘people can see.’
‘Just my back.’
Think, think!
‘I heard a rumour you were a gentleman.’
That finger traced up as he nipped her bottom lip. ‘Only if you want me to be.’
‘Yes…’ Her breath hitched. ‘Please.’
His eyes drifted open and held hers for a heart-pounding moment. Slowly he eased back. Her legs almost buckled. A rag doll had more strength to stand.
He looked over his shoulder at the street, scrubbed his jaw and exhaled.
‘You okay to lock up?’ he finally asked.
She let out a breath and managed a convincing nod.
‘You sure?’ he insisted, and she nodded harder. ‘Then I’ll see you two o’ clock Saturday.’
The self-assured look he sent as he left said today had been practice. Come Saturday he’d bring out his big guns.
CHAPTER EIGHT
APPLAUDING along with the rest of the wedding reception guests, Ben leaned towards Celeste, who looked breathtakingly elegant seated beside him.
‘This should be the last of the speeches,’ he let her know. ‘Then we get to dance.’
Her big green eyes fixed on his and she gave a soft but slightly hesitant smile.
After leaving her in that shop on Monday, the hours until today had crawled by. It had been worth the wait. He hadn’t had a more enjoyable day…being included in this special occasion, joining in a couple of professional family shots—not that Rhyll, his stepmother, or Paul, her eldest son, had approved.
He wouldn’t let their loaded looks mar his pleasure, least of all being with Celeste again. Gorgeous in a shimmering lemon-coloured gown, she’d been the focus of his day. While she might still have reservations about them, she would also be the focus of his night.
All night.
At the bridal table, his brother Chris stood. Decked out in a black tie and dress shirt, his tux jacket draped over the back of his chair, he told a few stories, thanked his guests and kissed his blushing bride after announcing he would always remember how beautiful she looked today.
The applause died and Chris continued. ‘Finally, ‘I’d like to officially welcome another new member into our family. We had no idea our brother Ben was out there. I’m so happy you found us, mate.’
As Chris raised his glass Ben swallowed against the swell in his throat. Damn. He hadn’t expected that, but he sure appreciated it.
Following etiquette, he half rose from his chair, bowed acknowledgement at Chris, then his father, who was seated at a nearby round table. Gerard’s glass was raised, his blue eyes sparkling in the candelabra light. Ben returned the warm smile, then his gaze hooked on Rhyll. Setting her napkin on the table, she pushed to her feet and made a statement by walking calmly from the room.
Celeste’s hand on Ben’s sleeve helped him lower the rest of the way back into his seat.
While Chris cleared his throat and finished up, Ben tried to see his way clear to finding a solution to such an unfamiliar problem. He had no personal experience to draw upon, other than his long-established habit of reading the motivations of those around him. Rhyll was perhaps jealous of her husband’s former love, Ben’s mother, and anxious over how the appearance of a stranger-cum-son would impact upon her family, her marriage included. Paul felt his place as eldest son threatened and had let it be known that Ben was trespassing on his turf.
Ben had figured he could ignore the hostility, assume his usual place on the peripheral of a family dynamic and observe, but his gut told him that wasn’t the answer this time.
Celeste laid a warm hand over his. ‘I think they’re playing our song.’
Brought back, he blinked across at her and the tune registered—the same song he’d played on the boat that night. He pushed back his chair. He’d never needed Celeste in his arms more than now, and, from the look in her eyes, she understood.
He led her out onto the timber floor and gathered her wonderful curves close. As their feet began to move in sync he gazed down into her eyes. ‘Have I told you how incredible you look?’
Her lips twitched. ‘Once or twice.’
‘Not enough.’ He twirled a finger around a golden lock. ‘Is that glitter in your hair?’
‘Just a sprinkle.’
He breathed in. ‘And a new scent.’ He arched a brow. ‘You’re definitely trying to drive me wild.’
Her brow creased. ‘You’re definitely trying to charm me.’
His mouth grazed her temple. ‘Is it working?’
‘And if I say no?’
‘I’ll be forced to show no mercy.’
He dipped her, Fred Astaire style. She shrieked out a laugh and he whirled her back up.
Her hair was a tassled mess. He loved it!
She blew out a breath, pushed back her hair, then tried to scowl. ‘If you do that again, I’m sitting down.’
Two fingers ironed down the length of her spine, ending at the curve of her behind. Although she endeavoured to hide it, he felt her body respond, heating and coming alive against him.
He grinned. ‘I have more subtle moves you might prefer.’
She sent a dry look. ‘Is that supposed to be a surprise?’
‘It’s an invitation.’
She looked away and sighed. ‘I know about your invitations.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a complaint.’
Her eyes challenged his. ‘What do you want me to say? We’re good in bed?’ Her shoulders went up and down. ‘All right. We’re good in bed.’
The middle-aged couple dancing nearby sent them a curious look. Embarrassed, Celeste tucked herself against him.
Ben rolled back one shoulder. ‘Well, now that’s settled—’
‘Nothing’s settled.’ She mumbled, ‘Not yet.’
He caught her chin and lifted it. ‘Running from each other won’t fix things.’ What they needed was to be together as they had been on his boat, and that amazing evening in his bed when the fireworks had gone off all night. ‘You said it—we’re good together.’
Her eyes glistened. ‘Are we?’
He wanted to laugh—what a question! But he couldn’t pretend to misunderstand her deeper meaning.
He danced her over to a quiet corner of the floor, then escorted her out onto a balcony. They stopped beside a giant trickling fountain of a marble cupid drawing his bow. When he kissed her fingertips and saw her nipples hardened beneath her bodice’s sheer fabric, his tongue tingled in his mouth.
‘We don’t have to stay till the end,’ he said. ‘The formalities are over.’
‘You don’t want to stay for the party?’
‘It was great being included in the day’s events, but it might be wiser to leave this final hour or two to the Bartley-Scotts to enjoy free from the impostor.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘Oh, Ben, I’m sure it will work itself out.’
He moved closer. ‘Right now, all I’m worried
about is you.’ Touching you. Kissing you. Making love with you.
All. Night. Long.
Unable to hold off a moment more, his mouth took hers. When Celeste relented and dissolved against him, Ben cupped her nape and gave himself over to the intoxicating heavy thrum of his blood beating through all the parts of his body. Five weeks had been way too long. If he didn’t take her soon, God save him, he might explode.
Their embrace was interrupted by a distant call.
‘Two more love birds, I see.’
Recognising Gerard’s voice, Ben reluctantly released Celeste. After shaking herself awake to her surroundings, she smoothed down the sides of her gown. Gerard was sauntering out into the brisk evening air, looking dapper, if not quite comfortable, in a full morning suit.
Getting his thoughts together, Ben inhaled deeply. ‘It’s been a great day, sir. Thanks for inviting us.’
Gerard stopped, a frown creasing the brow. ‘I’m not a sir.’ He clapped Ben’s arm heartily. ‘I’m your dad.’ He gazed fondly at Celeste. ‘You make a fine-looking couple.’
Ben smiled across. She was a fine-looking lady.
Gerard’s expression turned solemn and he rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Ben, son, I want to say I’m not unaware of my wife’s and Paul’s…reluctance.’
Ben waved a hand. He didn’t want Gerard to feel bad. To be fair, it had been a shock for everyone involved.
‘They’ll come around,’ Gerard assured him. ‘There’s no need to worry. You’re part of my family now, no matter what.’
Ben nodded. That sounded good.
Maybe too good to be true.
Looking back at the reception doors, Gerard seemed to gather himself. ‘Marie’ll make our Chris a wonderful wife.’
Celeste agreed. ‘She’s lovely.’
Gerard tipped forward. ‘She’s the best cook. Italian, you know. Do you cook, Celeste?’
‘Only when I have to.’ Celeste laughed. So did Ben. Gerard took a moment, then joined them.
He nudged Ben. ‘She’s got a sense of humour. You need that in a relationship.’
While Celeste lowered her gaze, Ben froze. They weren’t in a ‘relationship’. Ben wasn’t after a ‘relationship’. They’d only seen each other a handful of times. They were in a…well, an ‘understanding’. Or would be when he got Celeste back to his place and they could reinstate what she’d said earlier. They were ‘good in bed’.
Stop the press. They were great in bed. Better than great.
The music drifting out from inside changed and Gerard exclaimed, ‘I had the DJ play this song for Rhyll. We danced to it the first night we met.’ He sighed. ‘It goes so quickly. She has her ways, but I can’t imagine my life without her.’
As Gerard left his words echoed in Ben’s mind. She has her ways. Sounded as if there was a lot of give and take in their marriage. Had to be, he supposed, with bringing up seven children. He might be worth millions, control the salaries of scores of people, but Ben couldn’t imagine the responsibility that went with having a clutch of kids. The responsibility of having even one, for that matter. He couldn’t think of a thing that scared him…other than the infinite obligations associated with being a father.
A left-field thought struck.
Would he remember his and Celeste’s song in thirty years’ time?
Celeste began to move off too. ‘Perhaps we should get back inside.’
He followed. ‘Only to say goodbye.’
‘And then?’
‘I’m taking you home.’
She stopped and shook her head at the ground. ‘I…I don’t know.’
His hands sloped down her bare arms. ‘I think you do.’
She searched his eyes for a long moment. ‘You know what I really think? I think we need to talk.’
He held her eyes with his and nodded, then walked her inside. Certainly they could talk, as much as she wanted.
Over breakfast.
CHAPTER NINE
AS THE lift glided up each floor to his apartment Celeste shrank a little more inside. Ben stood beside her, his big warm hand folded over hers. Every so often rocking back on his heels, he concentrated on the lift light, working its way higher.
Shaking inside, Celeste closed her eyes and tried to find her calm centre.
On the way home, she and Ben had kept the chatter light. But all the while she’d wondered, Should I tell him? What will he say? We can’t possibly make love. Will he even want to touch me when he knows?
The lift pinged and he escorted her into the corridor. A moment later they were in his penthouse suite and all the memories of that New Year’s night came rushing back—vivid, tingling. Dangerously, exquisitely hot.
He tossed his jacket over a chair back and moved to the bar. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘Water.’ She trembled out a smile. ‘Thanks.’
When he returned, she sipped while his chest breathed in and out mere inches from her hand. As her heartbeat boomed in her ears she fought the urge to swipe the cool glass against her feverish brow.
Who was she kidding? He hadn’t brought her here to talk. His agenda was seduction and she’d walked straight into his lair. What must he think other than the obvious? And, yes, she did want him to kiss her, just as she wanted his skilled hands all over her, threading through her hair, roaming over her naked limbs.
But she’d be better off running. They could ‘talk’ another day.
Decided, she thrust the glass towards him to take. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve made a mistake.’
As his hand caught over hers on the glass his head angled and his brow creased with concern. ‘Celeste? You’re shaking.’
His jaw tight, he drew her over to the couch and, weak all over, she sank down alongside him.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘This is more than nerves.’
When his finger carefully scooped hair from her brow behind her ear, she shivered at the contact.
Ben was an extraordinary specimen. Prime-time male in every way. Did that explain it—this gripping, uncontrollable thirst? But how could she allow herself to drink when she’d still be parched long after he’d grown tired of ‘short term’ and had moved on? If he’d known what she’d gone through…wondering if she’d conceived, buying that pregnancy kit, discovering the results—
His arm looped around her and he brought her close, obviously wanting to comfort her. His clean, musky scent worked its way into her lungs, through her system and, right or wrong, needing some kind of support, she leant more against him. As his palm lightly grazed her arm she dared to look up.
The golden light from the bar shone dimly. She could make out the strong planes of his face, the gleam of his eyes gazing down at her. How her fingers itched to trail along his shadowed jaw. Sample the soft bow of his lip…
He smiled softly. ‘I know what you need.’
She knew too. A shrink.
He said, ‘A relaxing massage.’
Tempting, but…
She let out a breath. ‘I don’t think that’s it.’
He reached across and his right index finger and thumb scooped between her left ear and shoulder. Then he began to rub. Instantly a fleet of endorphins sailed out from the spot and waved a stream of soothing white flags.
Eyes drifting shut, she moaned as his touch gently rocked her.
Heaven.
She had to ask, ‘Why have you never done this before?’
His lips brushed her brow as he spoke. ‘I was saving it for a rainy day. Is that good?’
‘You know it is,’ she growled, but she only sounded satisfied.
‘I can do better.’
He worked the area more fully until her bones melted away and her limbs began to float. She’d never had a professional massage; she’d doubted anything could measure up to even this tiny taste of Ben’s manipulations.
Several drugging moments later, he turned more towards her, dotting soft, lingering kisses against her temple, then jaw. When his tongue grazed the se
am of her lips, the sparking kindling deep inside her began to smoulder.
With great care, he tipped his body weight against hers. As her back met the couch cushions his fingers continued working her shoulder, but his mouth descended, tasting a provocative line down her décolletage.
With her eyes still closed, she told her brain to function through the blinding haze of passion. It refused. When he tugged her bodice down and his warm, wet mouth suctioned over the aching tip of her breast, brain function shut down completely. It was over.
She didn’t want to resist.
As if sensing the precise moment of surrender, his hand left her shoulder and skied over her waist and hip, all the way down her leg until it caught her hem and dragged the fabric of her dress way up. His fingers hooked under her panties and slipped between her legs. As his fingertip delved between and gently rode her, and the stiff tip of his tongue twirled languidly around her nipple, her neck arced back and hips rose off the cushions. When his hand withdrew, in the far reaches of her mind she heard his fly unzip.
Felt the hot tip of him prod her thigh.
No!
Drunk with desire, she managed to push against his chest and drag herself to her senses. Summoning all her strength, she propelled herself upright and tried to steady her ragged breathing.
‘I can’t do this.’
His warm breath was at her ear. ‘Celeste, honey, relax—’
‘I won’t relax. Ben, I said I wanted to talk.’
He straightened more and shovelled back dark hair flopped over his brow. He studied her, then he came closer. ‘I’m sure that if—’
‘I thought I was pregnant,’ she rushed out, and felt better and worse for having admitted it.
His mouth dropped open. She thought she saw the blood drain from his face.
‘You’re…pregnant?’
She shook her head. ‘I thought I was pregnant. Ended up…I wasn’t.’
He simply stared at her. ‘So you’re not…having a baby?’
She hugged herself. ‘Seems not.’
He slouched forward and his hands caught his head. ‘Thank you, God.’
She flinched. Although she understood his relief, after her recent roller coaster of emotional highs and lows, his reaction was a slap in the face. ‘Well, it’s great to see you’re so happy about it.’