And therein lies your problem, you nincompoop. What happened to your bold pronouncement of rewriting Valentine’s Day with some headboard shaking smexin’ action? Instead, here she was, taking out her frustration with baked goods. Snuffing a sigh, she brushed her hands on the skirt of her apron, doing her best to banish the remaining traces of flour dusting her skin. She stepped through the doorway, and resisted the urge to do an about-face when she spotted Bennet standing in the middle of the room, looking devastatingly gorgeous in a navy sport coat and khakis. Pulse thumping in double time, she took in the bouquet of roses and the suspicious heart-shaped box he held. “What do you think you’re doing?” She wasn’t entirely surprised at him showing up. She knew damn well how persistent Ben could be when he wanted something badly enough.
Too bad he hadn’t wanted her that much ten years ago. He wouldn’t have to resort to overpriced flowers and chocolate.
“I couldn’t let it end like that between us, Ro. I’m not giving up on you so easily.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
“Wrong. When it comes to you, there’s no such thing. I’ll wait forever for you if that’s what it takes.”
An undesired sting pricked at her eyelids. Damn it, she wouldn’t cry. It didn’t matter if the tears were ones of anger and frustration. She’d shed every kind imaginable over Ben. No more.
He closed the distance between them. A familiar sweet essence drifted to her nose, and she dropped her focus to the cellophane-wrapped flowers. Tucked amongst the red roses were dainty cotton candy pink freesia. She blinked, her vision blurring. The lump in her throat was almost worse than the threat of tears. Crying was a form of release, at least. This heaviness paralyzing her vocal chords was a mute bully gleefully suffocating her with her own emotions.
So he’d remembered about the freesia. It meant nothing. And it sure as hell didn’t make up for the endless hurt he’d put her through. She jerked her gaze back to his. “I want you to leave, Ben. There’s nothing here for you anymore.”
He shook his head. “You’re here.”
“I was speaking metaphorically. And besides, technically I’m not going to be around much longer anyway. I was about to close up shop before you came in.”
“It doesn’t smell like it to me.”
Damn those butterscotch scones for ratting her out. “This is a bakery. It always smells like that.”
“Nope. There’s something in the oven. I’d stake twenty bucks on it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “Don’t suppose you’d mind me going and checking it out first hand then, would ya?” Before she could respond, he sidled past her and strode into the kitchen.
Closing her eyes, she sucked in a steadying breath and counted to ten. By eight it was pretty freakin’ clear her patience had decided to skip out for the night. Grinding her molars, she followed after Bennet. She found him hunched in front of the oven, door wide open while he appreciatively whiffed at the scones inside.
“Damn it, shut that door.”
He did as directed, his teeth a bright flash of white highlighting his obnoxious grin. “Looks like someone owes me twenty bucks.”
“I never said I’d take your bet, smart ass.”
He rose to his feet and settled the flowers and chocolate on the prep station. “Admit it, Ro. You had no intention of seeing someone else tonight.”
“No, I did. I mean I do. Once those scones are finished, I’m going to meet my date for dinner.” Praying Ben would buy that load of bull, she crossed her fingers behind her back.
“Uh huh.” He took a step closer; forcing her to angle her head back enough to meet his gaze full on. “I guaran-damn-tee ya he’d be a waste of your time. Because no way in hell he feels a fraction of what I do for you.”
The persuasion in his whiskey baritone combined with the softness in his eyes provided a double whammy in the battle against her defenses. He was giving her no choice but to play dirty. Gripping the edge of the worktable behind her, she steeled herself and blurted out the biggest lie she’d ever uttered. “I feel nothing for you, Ben. Now please leave.”
Rather than slink out of the kitchen like she’d vainly hoped he would, Ben leaned closer, boxing her against the table. “You were never good at lying, Ro. Even if I didn’t have proof from your response to me earlier when I kissed the daylights out of you at the station, there’s still the small fact that your pretty nipples are waving a salute at me right now.”
She didn’t need to look down to verify he was telling the truth. The traitorous offenders had pebbled into hard peaks the moment he’d invaded her personal space. Every breath she dragged in came with the excruciating side effect of rubbing the lace of her bra against her sensitized flesh. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“No?” He slid his hands around her waist and coasted them upward until he came to her breasts. Stalling there, he lazily grazed his knuckles back and forth, following the underside of her bra. “I’ll make you a deal. Allow me one kiss. If you still think it means nothing, I’ll leave. For good.”
Oh God. What hope did she have of pretending he left her unaffected if she went along with this? She probably had better odds of hitting the lottery and getting struck by lightning. Simultaneously. But what choice did she have? It was either agree to his insane proposal or spend the rest of the night arguing with him.
Just one kiss. Surely she had enough willpower not to get carried away. The butterflies in her stomach laughing uproariously at that delusional statement, she acquiesced with a resigned nod. “I have your word you’ll leave when I win this bet?”
The confident set of his jaw spoke volumes regarding his faith in being the victor in this round. “Absolutely.”
“Fine. Then give it your best shot, Casanova.” Oh Lord. Why did she tack on that provocation? She might as well wave a red flag at a bull and charge the beast head on. Ben’s nostrils flared, adding to the overall impression. Half certain he was about to paw the floor with his wingtips, she waited for the inevitable pounce. He surprised her by moving in slowly, his hands roving outward along the swells of her breasts. He inched infinitesimally closer, his mouth a hairsbreadth away from hers. She stared into his eyes, her heart drumming. Time stretched into an eternity. The intimacy of their almost kiss straddled the line of unbearable. He was teasing her. Making her long for that first taste. She licked her lips and watched the responding flare of heat in his irises.
But still the tormenting son of a bitch refused to make the next move. Growling under her breath, she gripped the lapels of his jacket. “Kiss me, damn it.”
His mouth crooked into a half smile. “Thought you’d never ask.” Slipping his arms around her, he cradled the back of her head and closed the scant distance separating their lips. The kiss mirrored his leisurely approach to initiating it in the first place, igniting with a slow burn that steadily built into a consuming flame. He tunneled his fingers through her hair, his lips coaxing. She submitted with a shuddery moan and wrapped her arms around his middle, her legs suddenly too wobbly to hold her upright. Ever the gentleman, he scooped her up by the butt and planted her on the edge of the worktable, all the while never ceasing his kisses. Hooking her legs around his waist, he sent a sliding kiss along the slope of her neck, unerringly locating the sweet spot beneath her ear that always did her in. She gasped, arching against him. He gently tugged on her hair, exposing more of her neck for his feasting. Shivers of pleasure chased after his descending mouth. His teeth scraped and nipped, prodding a whimper to escape her. He chuckled, the dark, smoky sound like velvet over her flushed skin.
Bastard knew she was at his mercy. Well, if she was going down hard she was damn well taking him along with her. She slid her palms underneath his jacket and fumbled with his white Oxford shirt, the uncooperative buttons refusing to dislodge from their holes. Apparently sensing that her frustration was about to earn him a destroyed garment, he shrugged from his jacket and set it a
side before working on his dress shirt. Glorious muscles flexing, he freed himself of that article of clothing and tossed it next to the flowers. She unglued her tongue from the roof of her mouth.
Good Lord. It was almost unfair how well the last decade had treated his body. Not an inch of fat anywhere. Smooth, tanned skin with just enough sprinkling of dark hair across his sculpted pecs and arrowing in a happy trail toward the waistband of his trousers. The appreciative sigh that snuck from her would have been embarrassing as hell if she’d thought for one moment that Ben noticed it. Fortunately he seemed too preoccupied with getting her out of her own clothes. He gripped the hem of her sweater and tugged it up over her head. Dropping the garment behind her, he raked her with his gaze, visually eating her alive. He traced his fingertips over the lace of her bra, concentrating on the stiffening buds of her nipples. “So pretty.”
She squirmed, silently begging him to cease the teasing torment, but judging from the intensity heating his expression, he was only getting started. He unclasped her bra’s center hook and peeled back the cups before sliding the straps from her arms. Licking his lips, he stepped away from her. Desperate to have his lips on her again, she lifted her hands and cupped her breasts in blatant invitation.
A strained breath hissed from him. “Jesus.” He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing with his hard swallow. The fire burning brighter in his gaze, he dropped his arm. “Hold that thought.”
She blinked as he pivoted. “What? Wait, where are you going?” A grumble sprang from her when he stopped in front of the refrigerator and swung open the door. She was torn on whether to club him upside the head, or squeeze those firm globes of his ass that were taunting her behind the confinement of his khakis. “Seriously? Not the best time to be hunting for a snack, you jerk.”
He grabbed something inside the cooler and slammed the door shut before turning to face her. His smile wicked, he revealed the can of Reddi Whip he’d apprehended. “You’re the only snack I’m intending to savor.”
She’d be a damned liar if she didn’t admit to liking the sound of that. “Hailey’s not going to approve of you misusing her cappuccino topper that way.” Doubtful Hailey would advocate anything going on in the kitchen tonight. God knows she wasn’t exactly Ben’s biggest cheerleader. Deliberately choosing to tuck away her best friend’s inevitable disapproval for the time being, Rory leaned back on her elbows and tried for her best come hither look. She must have succeeded because Ben stalked toward her, the predatory glint in his eyes instigating a new crop of goose bumps over her flesh.
“I’ll buy her a new one.” He settled between Rory’s legs and plunked the can of whipped cream next to her hip. “First I want to taste nothing but you.” He lowered his head and swirled just the tip of his tongue in a lazy figure eight along the crest of her breast.
A pleasured purr snuck from her and Ben flicked his gaze up to hers. Holding her stare, he sucked her nipple fully into his mouth, the soft laving of his tongue a luscious contrast to the slight edge his teeth play brought to his oral worship. He flattened her completely on the table, his decadent suckling making her head spin. Lost in the sensual haze, she held on to the only safety line she could find—him. The silkiness of his hair slid between her fingertips, the warmth of his nape like a furnace against her skin. His combustible temperature had always given away the level of his arousal. Knowing he was this hot for her was a turn on like no other.
Tearing his mouth from her, he reached for the Reddi Whip and primed the can before squirting a small hill of the sugary foam on her breasts. Returning to his previous task, he delicately licked one nipple clean and then the other. Fierce concentration holding his gorgeous features hostage, he scooted back and unzipped her jeans. He managed to ruck the denim part way down her legs before remembering her boots. Once he took care of that obstacle, he pulled her jeans the rest of the way off and eyed the miniscule scrap of black lace covering her crotch. “Damn, baby. I’ve always loved your addiction to sexy underthings.”
Recalling the countless occasions of Ben tackling her after she teased him with a flash of panty, she grabbed him by the wrists. “Exciting as the thought of you ripping these off with your teeth is, these underwear also cost me a bloody fortune.”
“I’ll be gentle.” His expression turned a darker shade of predatory. “At least until the bikini is history. After that, all bets are off.”
She gulped.
Keeping his word on the first part of his promise, he hooked his thumbs in the elastic and eased the underwear past her hips. He kissed her pubic bone and inched the panties down just far enough to reveal her pussy. Pushing her further up the table, he ducked and lapped at the glistening pearl of her clit, the coaxing glide of his tongue sending shimmering currents of pleasure zipping through her synapses. He held her down by the hips, making it impossible for her to move or do anything at all beyond yielding to the demands of his mouth. The lightning fast stirrings of a climax began working its way through her body, tensing her muscles and thinning her breaths to ragged shards in her throat. Ben lifted his focus to her face again, that intense smoky stare punching right through her. It was the only catalyst she required to topple her over the edge. Exploding on his tongue, shockwave after shockwave erupting through her while locked into his gaze—it was an intimate connection beyond anything she’d experienced, even with Ben. He’d torn through her defenses, stripped her to a naked mass of vulnerability. But still she couldn’t break their link.
Slipping his mouth from her, he carefully removed her bikini and set it aside. Breath ragged, he planted his hands on either side of her. “I want you, Ro. More than I ever or will ever want anything else on this earth. Me sayin’ it is one thing. You’ll probably doubt it like everything else I’ve said. Which is why I’m prepared to show you instead. But in the interest of issuing you a fair warning, if you don’t want to get fucked so hard and deep that you’ll be feeling me for the next month, well, you probably should let me know now.”
Her pussy clenched at his wicked words. “Ben?”
A hint of foreboding crept across his features. “Yes?”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
Relief banishing his apprehension, he wrestled with his belt and kicked off his wingtips. Zipper freed, he tugged down his khakis and boxer briefs in the same motion and stepped out of the pool of clothing. He dug inside his jacket pocket and fetched his wallet, locating a sealed condom packet in one of the dividers.
She grimaced. “Was I that much of a foregone conclusion?”
“No, more like a wish and a prayer on my part.”
That at least made her feel marginally better. The second Ben ripped the foil open with his teeth, all other trivialities fled her mind. She dipped her attention to the rigid length of his cock. Not all men could claim ownership of such a superbly crafted organ. Back in her college days she’d listened to her girlfriends giggling over the strangeness of such a weird and ugly body part being able to provide so much fun and pleasure, and her secretly wondering if perhaps Ben was a freak of nature in that his penis was beautiful and a freakin’ power tool when it came to dishing out her orgasms. Since then she’d landed on the conclusion that while Ben might not necessarily be the sole beneficiary of the only perfect cock in existence, he certainly was one of the few she’d been lucky enough to personally experience.
Craving that first taste of him sans the undesired funky flavor of latex, she jumped down from the table and crouching in front of him, ran her tongue up along the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft. His abdomen tensed then quivered as she closed her lips around the mushroom-shaped cap and sucked him softly. “Aw, fuck. Ro, Jesus, so good.” His shaky hand brushed aside her hair so he could watch her bobbing motions. The rate he thickened in her mouth filled her with feminine pride. Who knows how many women he’d been with these last ten years, but no way any of them affected him like this. Determined to remind him of that fact, she increased her suction, her cheeks ho
llowing.
“Goddamn. Baby, stop. I don’t want to blow this by coming in your mouth.”
Letting him slip from her lips, she peered up at him through her eyelashes. “I’m sorry, did you say something about blowing?”
The noise rumbling from him somewhere between a laugh and a growl, Ben secured the condom in place and hunched over and tucked her into his arms. Hiking her legs high up around his waist, he swiveled and sat down on the edge of the table. She clutched at his shoulders, her panic at getting dropped on her head outweighing all else for the moment. He kneaded her buttocks. “Relax, I’ve got you.” Before she could question the legitimacy of that assertion, he effortlessly lifted her, positioning her directly on the straining head of his shaft. She was awarded the barest second to bask in the hedonistic sensation of that thick gland teasing her labia, and then she was sinking in a slow, wet glide onto his cock. Down, down, until he butted against her cervix. His size and the overall fullness was overwhelming. The desire to push him out combated with the equally powerful need to take in more of him. But aside of him burrowing into her womb, that last feat felt like an implausibility.
His fingertips drifting along her spine, he fed her sweet, reverential kisses, allowing her the time to adjust to him inside her. Pulled under the tow of his caresses, she melted into their union with a blissful moan. He began moving, unhurried little rolls of his hips that lodged him deeper and rubbed her clit against the ridge of his pubic bone. Her skin flushed, the familiar heat flooding her cells with exquisite sensation. His lips brushed her earlobe. “So amazingly tight. You’re gonna come again, baby, aren’t you?”
Speech impossible, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life as the wave of ecstasy crashed into her. Sobbing, she shook uncontrollably, her nails digging into the meat of his shoulder. The quakes were unending, relentless in their quest to pull her deeper into their consuming riptide. Before they’d completely waned, a low, guttural groan fell from Ben, announcing that he was right there with her in the undertow. Connected as they were, she felt every single pulse of his climax in the heart of her core, and that only spiraled her into another small fluttery round of spasms.
Sweet Sizzle: A Red Hot Valentine Story Page 4