Your Tempting Love (The Bennett Family)

by Layla Hagen

  When I hear the floor in front of the door creak, I swirl around, zeroing in on his imposing frame. I'll never tire of drinking him in: the beautifully groomed three-day beard, the broad shoulders and the expanse of his chest, those strong arms capable of making me feel cherished, protected, and wanted when they close around me.

  "You didn't say you had a surprise for me." His rough bedroom voice jolts me from my thoughts, and I cross my hands behind my back as Christopher undresses me with his eyes. Not that I'm wearing much… just a black lace, strapless camisole with matching lace panties, which I bought especially for this occasion. He seems to greatly appreciate them.

  Stepping closer to me, his gaze becomes more predatory by the second. Making a man like him lose control sends delicious tingles down my spine. Tipping my head back, he gives me a kiss as rough as it is breathtaking.

  "You're gorgeous." He whispers the words against my skin as his lips trail down my neck, resting at the base, where my sweet spot is. "But before you unleash your seduction plan on me, don't you want your present?"

  Ah, decisions, decisions. On the one hand, the man is coaxing my sweet spot. On the other hand, I'm a present junkie. My dark side wins, and I step back, holding up my hand expectantly. The corners of his mouth twitch.

  "Turn around." His voice is low, commanding, and oh-so-alluring.

  "Are you trying to trick me into having office sex with you?" I tease but turn around, wiggling my butt against his crotch for good measure.

  "I don't need any tricks for that, Victoria." Sweeping my hair to one side, he kisses the side of my neck, while I feel him rummage in his pocket. Seconds later, he holds a necklace in front of me. The pendant hanging on the thin white gold thread is a beautiful diamond, and I'm stunned.

  "Christopher!" I whisper.

  "Do you like it?"

  "Of course, it's beautiful. Thank you, but I…." My words trail as he clasps the necklace around my neck, the diamond resting on my skin. There is a mirror on the wall behind my desk, and we have a direct view.

  "It looks perfect on you." Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulls me flat against him.

  Feeling the need to look straight at him, and not just merely through a mirror, I turn around.

  "You didn't have to buy me this. I would've been happy with anything."

  "You deserve something special."

  I touch the stone with one hand, his chest with the other, my love declaration on the tip of my tongue. I'm being silly. There's no reason to be nervous. This is Christopher—my Christopher.

  "I love you." With those three words, I feel as if I've put my heart in his hands. Loving someone means giving them a part of you. When they walk out of your life, they take that part with them. Love is scary, but tonight I’m brave.

  Christopher exhales sharply, feathering his thumb over my bare shoulder. "I love you too, Victoria."

  "Yeah?"

  "I thought the diamond might have tipped you off."

  "Words are better." I mold my body against him, needing the connection.

  "It's funny, you know. I wasn't looking for anything when you came in my life. Crashed into my life, actually."

  I pinch his chest playfully, but what can I say, the man is one hundred percent right.

  "You fit in so perfectly, I have no idea how I lived without you in it before," he continues.

  Oh, heavens. I melt on the spot.

  "You're quite the romantic," I whisper.

  "I warned you. It's a trait I rarely unleash, but—"

  "Don't worry, I'm a sponge. I can soak it all up."

  His hands glide down my back, resting on my ass for a brief second before he hoists me up in his arms. My legs hitch around his waist, already knowing where to settle for maximum stability. Christopher carries me to my bed, placing me on it swiftly.

  He removes my camisole and panties with lightning speed, but I'm right there with him in my race to get him naked. Finally, I move to the center of the bed, beckoning him by opening my legs. Christopher smiles ruefully, cuffing my ankles with his hands, kissing along my legs up to my knees. When his mouth ascends to my inner thighs, all hot and sinful, I almost break out of my skin. I need to touch him too, and just when I think I'm about to, Christopher props himself up on his knees.

  "Turn around."

  Anticipation and regret war inside me. Anticipation because I know he'll do wicked hot things to me, regret because I won't be able to touch him. But I’m putty in his hands, driven by the promise of pleasure. So I turn around, flattening my belly against the bed, holding a pillow nearby in case I have to muffle moans or cries. All my senses are on high alert. Biting my lip, I try to anticipate where Christopher will start with the delicious torture. He chooses the back of my neck, trailing his mouth down, sending tendrils of anticipation straight to my center.

  He drags his thumbs across my ass cheeks, down in a straight line, then back up in tiny circles that have me convulsing. When he traces the same pattern with his tongue, first one cheek and then the other, then swiping his tongue once along the crack between, I nearly black out. My entire body has transformed into a sweet spot under his expert hands and mouth.

  Fisting the sheets, I seek to regain my composure, but what little I manage melts right away when he nudges my legs open with his knee. One rumbling sound later, a condom package is being ripped open. The next seconds seem excruciatingly long… until Christopher pushes inside me, stretching me. I bite into the pillow to muffle a moan. His thrusts are measured and deep, filling me completely.

  “So good,” I murmur, almost out of breath.

  “Perfect.” His hot mouth feathers over my shoulders, and I lose myself in the pleasure. Making love to him has always been beautiful, but tonight it’s surreal. I feel closer to him than ever. When I’m so near the edge that my entire body quivers, one of Christopher's hands feathers up to the side of my breast and then back down. Slipping between my body and the bed, he presses on the tight bundle of nerves. His hot breath on the back of my neck is a sinful whisper. His thrusts grow more passionate with a desperation that mirrors my own. He loves me with unrestrained passion until we both find relief in a shattering wave of pleasure.

  Chapter Thirty

  Victoria

  Chloe asking Christopher to read to her was apparently just the beginning. On Monday afternoon, they go on their first shopping trip to a nearby toy store, just the two of them. I warned him that Chloe could be a little extortionist when it comes to toys, but he insisted he’d manage.

  I'm helping Sienna with a science project when my phone rings, Christopher's name appearing on the screen. The corners of my mouth lift in a smile as I put the phone to my ear, imagining he needs my expertise in negotiating with Chloe.

  "Victoria!" Urgency drips from Christopher's voice. My stomach coils at the sound.

  "What happened?"

  "A car crashed into us on the way to the store."

  "Oh my God."

  "We only have a few scratches, but Chloe and I are in the ambulance right now, and the ER insists we go to the hospital to check for any internal damage from the impact. We need you there because you're Chloe's guardian."

  Every wisp of air leaves my lungs at the words “internal damage.” "Of course. I’m on my way."

  "What's wrong?" Sienna asks after I click off, panic flaring in her eyes.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I force myself to sound calm. "Christopher and Chloe were in an accident. Nothing major, don't worry. I'm going to them."

  "I'm coming too."

  "You and Lucas stay home. It's nothing," I promise.

  I fight the cloud of panic threatening to swallow me up all the way to the hospital. My hands shake on the wheel, and my mind races with made-up images of blood splattered on the asphalt and cries of agony. I listened intently when I was talking to Christopher, and I didn't hear Chloe cry in the background. Christopher's voice didn't seem to hide pain.

  Calm down, Victoria. Calm down.


  Repeating that mantra is futile. I know I won't relax until the doctor clears Chloe and Christopher. They’ll be all right. They have to be. Still, as I speed in the direction of the highway, I can't help remembering another phone call urging me to head to a hospital nearly a year ago. Aunt Christina called me close to midnight on a Friday, telling me to head to the hospital, that something had happened during my parents' boating trip and they were taken to the hospital.

  At that time, I was in town enjoying a girls' night out. Reluctantly I got into a cab, and all the way to the hospital, I worked on a joke. I'd walk in and tell them it was time they left romantic dates to the young ones if they couldn't even make it through a boat trip. I imagined something like them falling over in the water and getting a scare. It was ridiculous, but at that time, I couldn't imagine anything serious happening to them. In my mind, my parents would live forever. When I arrived at the hospital, Christina was sobbing. I had never seen her sob before, and the joke froze on my tongue. When she calmed down enough to talk, she told me my parents' boat had collided with a poorly lit buoy, and they were both dead.

  The entire world imploded.

  Maybe I've become paranoid, but as I step inside the hospital, I have the sinking feeling that everything is about to implode again.

  I find Christopher and Chloe in the crowded emergency waiting room, both sitting on chairs. This is good. Sitting is good. If they have any real damage, they wouldn't be sitting, would they? If they were hurt, they wouldn't be in the waiting room. I know jack shit about internal damage, but I keep telling myself that sitting is a good sign.

  "Victoria," Chloe squeals when she sees me, jumping in my arms when I step in front of her. I hug her closely, breathing her in. She smells like candy and my perfume, which she sprayed on herself this morning when she thought I wasn't looking. There are no traces of blood anywhere that I can see.

  Christopher pulls both of us between his arms, and he too seems unharmed. His grip is as strong and reassuring as ever, and my knees nearly buckle with relief.

  "We’re waiting for a doc to see us, but based on the preliminary checkups in the ambulance, we don't have anything more than a few scratches," Christopher explains after we pull apart and I place Chloe on the chair again.

  His voice sounds strong and reassuring too. He couldn't sound like this if he were hurt, could he? And Chloe couldn't muster up this smile that lights up her entire face if she had internal bleeding, could she?

  "What happened?" I ask. The seats next to Chloe and Christopher are occupied so I just stand before them.

  "Some schmuck ran the red light. Slammed into the passenger seat from the side. Thank God Chloe was sitting in the back."

  "And then Christopher's airbag went boom," Chloe exclaims, extending her arms up in the air.

  "You weren't scared at all?" I ask her gently.

  "Yes, I was, but Christopher said…." She frowns, resting her chin dramatically on her palm. "I don't remember, but now I'm not scared anymore."

  I throw my arms around Christopher's neck, practically choking him. Chuckling, he loops his arms around my waist.

  "We're fine, Victoria," he whispers. "We're absolutely fine."

  "Sorry to interrupt," a low, brisk voice says from behind me. As I step to the side, the nurse surveys me. "Are you the little one's guardian?"

  "Yes. I'm her sister."

  "Okay. I need you to fill out some forms for me."

  Afterward, the nurse suggests I remain in the waiting room while she takes Christopher and Chloe for a checkup. Usually the parent or guardian goes in with a child, unless the child has serious injuries. In our case though, Christopher needs to be checked out himself. I only agree because I think it’s best for Chloe. I am beyond nervous, and I think my presence in the ER room would distress her.

  Once they’re gone, there’s nothing for me to do except wait as two of the most important people in my life are being checked for potentially life-threatening injuries. I briefly consider calling Sienna, but there’s no point right now. I'll call once I know that they’re all right.

  They will be all right.

  I don't know how much time passes before I hear my name.

  "Ms. Hensley, where is the minor?"

  My spine stiffens as Hervis Jackson steps into my field of vision. At the back of my mind, I remember him saying in one of our earliest meetings that in case any of the kids were brought to the hospital, he’d know. That didn't even seem like a possibility back then. One of the reasons I hate interacting with him, besides his permanent air of superiority, is that he always throws around words like “guardian,” “minor,” and “case” instead of “sister” and “family.” It's all so cold.

  "Where is the minor?" he repeats slowly, as if convinced my IQ level can't comprehend his words.

  "They’ve taken her back for a checkup."

  "What happened?"

  "Car accident, but Chloe wasn’t injured."

  "Then why was she brought to the hospital?"

  I flex my hands, trying not to ball them into fists. Hervis has the unique ability to make me see red less than five minutes into a conversation.

  "It's just a precaution—"

  "We're back. The doc cleared both of us. No damage, so we're free to leave," Christopher announces, having just arrived with Chloe. He cocks a brow in Hervis's direction.

  Hervis spares Chloe a fleeting glance before focusing on Christopher. "Who are you?" Hervis asks.

  "Christopher Bennett," he replies, helping Chloe sit on a chair. "Who are you?"

  "Hervis Jackson. I’m the social worker assigned to the Hensley case."

  Hearing those damn words again is like a physical punch to my gut.

  "And your relationship to the family is?" he continues.

  "He's my boyfriend," I reply.

  "Were you with the minor and Ms. Hensley when the accident happened?" Hervis asks Christopher.

  "Yes, I was the one driving. Victoria wasn't with us."

  A heavy silence follows, and I can practically feel the weight of Hervis's disapproval smack me in the face. I feel the need to explain more, though I don’t know what to say. It’s my right to leave the kids with whomever I see fit. Panic slicks through my veins, clouding my judgment.

  "I've been around the kids for months. It's not like I'm a stranger," Christopher says, his voice strained. Obviously he feels the same compulsive need to overexplain as I do.

  "Were you inebriated?" Hervis inquires.

  Christopher, who is standing next to Chloe's seat, goes rigid.

  "No."

  "Were you under the influence of drugs?"

  "No." He squares his shoulders. My gaze automatically lowers to his hands, which he balls into fists. Hervis notices too. I swallow bile, opening my mouth. No words come out, so I merely move over to Chloe's other side, placing an arm around her shoulders.

  "Were you past the speed limit?"

  "No," Christopher answers through gritted teeth.

  "Would your answers remain the same if you were under oath?"

  My throat constricts, air escaping me. Chloe tenses under my arm, glancing up at me with confusion, not fear. But I have enough fear for both of us.

  "Yes. You can take a look at the police report. The accident was not my fault."

  "Look—" I begin, having found my voice again, desperately needing to stop this, to protect the kids, Christopher, and me. Hervis holds up his hand, stopping the words in my throat.

  "I'm talking to Mr. Bennett now. I would appreciate no interruptions. I certainly will check the police report. Do you have any felony convictions?"

  "Fuck no," Christopher all but yells, making both Chloe and me flinch.

  "That's a bad word," Chloe whispers to Christopher.

  Hervis's gaze slides to my sister. I want to tell Christopher to calm down because this is what Hervis does. He pushes buttons until you snap, then holds said snapping against you like a damn gun. But there’s no way I can pull him away and t
alk some sense into him with Hervis here.

  "Are you employed, Mr. Bennett, or do you rely on Ms. Hensley for financial support?"

  "Who do you think you are? Coming here, insulting my girlfriend, insulting me? Do you live under a rock? I'm a fucking shareholder in Bennett Enterprises. In case you don't know what I'm talking about, here's the cliff notes version. The company is worth billions. I suggest you spend more time brushing up on your obviously nonexistent knowledge on current affairs rather than harassing us."

  I breathe in deeply, hoping that will calm my racing pulse. I want to defend Christopher and smack him in the head at the same time. He's making this worse.

  Hervis blinks, scrutinizing Christopher.

  "Have you ever taken anger management courses, Mr. Bennett?"

  My body goes rigid with shock, as I realize what he's doing: searching for any angle to paint Christopher in a negative light. And Christopher is about to serve it to him on a silver platter. Raising one hand, he points at Hervis with his forefinger. His face is red, a vein pulsing at his temple.

  "I have enough money and power to make sure you never work again in this country. Scratch that—on three continents, if I put in the effort. And believe me, I'm willing to put in the effort. Take your attitude and get out of here."

  Now I'm downright angry at him. This is not a pissing contest, or him flexing his muscles. He can't threaten the social worker, or anyone for that matter.

  "Christopher—" I start, but Hervis holds up a hand to silence me. Again. Sometime in the past few minutes, Chloe has shifted closer to me.

  When Hervis looks straight at me, I can see on his face that the implosion is about to start.

  "Ms. Hensley, I'm afraid the situation is much worse than I imagined. You have exposed the minors in your care for months to a man with clear anger issues. One of them has been put in a potentially life-threatening situation because of him. As such, I deem that you are not capable of being the guardian of the minors."

  Wham! My eyes burn with unshed tears, even as the rest of my body feels as if I'm in an iceberg.

  "Hervis," I say as calmly as possible. "This is all a big misunderstanding, and I—"