by Abby Green
‘Damn you, Ben.’
He smiled, feeling wicked. ‘So, what do you say?’
His hand was moving higher now, closer to the hot juncture between her legs. He was ruthless—but she wasn’t stopping him from pushing her legs further apart.
He could feel her heat and smell her sweet, musky arousal, and the friction against her pert bottom only made things more acute. He shifted slightly, so that she could feel what she was doing to him.
By now her breath was choppy. He could feel the tension in her body as she fought not to give in to him. ‘Just the weekend, you say?’
Ben wanted to growl at her insistence on putting boundaries in place, but he resisted the urge. In another couple of days all those boundaries would be gone.
‘Yes, just the weekend.’ He ignored his conscience. He’d seduced this woman into his bed—he could seduce her into marriage.
She looked at him for a long moment, with such intensity that Ben almost wanted to hide from her searing gaze, and then, abruptly, she moved. For a second Ben thought she was getting up to leave, but then she was lifting a leg over his lap and coming back down to straddle him.
Her robe had parted marginally and she moved her hips against him in a small undulating movement that made him bite back a curse as he felt her naked flesh press hotly against the erection straining against his trousers.
She cocked her head. ‘Well, for starters, you’re way too overdressed for a weekend of debauchery...’
And with that she reached for the hem of his top, pulling it up so that he had to raise his arms, and then it was off, landing on the floor.
She’d taken him by surprise again. Ben was so taken aback at her capitulation that he could only sit there for a moment, and then she grinned at him, bright and sudden, and he felt it like a punch in his gut. He also felt something constrict in his chest but he pushed it down, focusing on the physical.
He dislodged her hands with ease and pulled at the rest of her robe, baring those beautiful breasts to his gaze. He cupped them, dragging his thumbs across her stiffening nipples, and heard her sharp intake of breath.
By the time he’d licked and sucked those peaks to sharp wet points Lia was lifting herself up from his lap and fumbling with his trousers, freeing his aching arousal from its confinement. By the time he was sheathed with protection and embedded in her snug embrace they were both breathing as if they’d run a marathon, a glow of perspiration coating their skin.
Lia’s robe was off, on the floor behind her, and Ben didn’t even have any recollection of pushing it to the ground, the conflagration between them had been so swift and sudden. He surged up into her body, over and over, his arms welded tight across her back.
Lia pushed him right to the edge, and over, every time. Her face was flushed, she was biting her lip, and her eyes were glazed with passion... Ben realised with satisfaction that he was seeing her come undone, exactly as he’d imagined when he’d looked at her that first evening they’d met.
Except his sense of satisfaction was short-lived. Nothing in his imagination could have prepared him for this reality, or the sheer strength and awesome power of the climax that ripped through them within minutes of their bodies joining.
For a long moment in the aftermath Ben’s head rested helplessly on Lia’s breasts. She had her hands on his head, fingers funnelled deep into his hair, holding him there. He was still embedded deep in her body and he could feel the rhythmic post-orgasmic flutters of her body along his length.
He realised that even if he’d wanted to pull away from the embrace he couldn’t.
When he finally was able to move he lifted his head and looked at her. The fact that she seemed similarly shattered was absurdly satisfying, but that was almost immediately followed by a sensation of uneasiness as Ben realised that whenever he’d believed he had her where he wanted her before, she’d eluded him.
He was a man who exerted control in all things, and he would make sure that didn’t happen again. There was no room for failure here. Lia was an acquisition he couldn’t afford to lose now.
* * *
‘What day is it?’ Lia said sleepily into the pillow as she felt a finger trace the bones of her spine.
Amazingly, her body tingled and she groaned. She heard a deep chuckle and wanted to scowl, but she didn’t have the energy.
Mustering all the strength she did have, she turned over, dislodging Ben’s hand and pulling the sheet up over her body. She glared at him balefully.
He held up his hand, his face a picture of innocence. Well, if you could call his stubbled gorgeousness innocent. Which, of course, he wasn’t—remotely. He was wicked, and he had made her do unspeakably wanton things for hours and hours; night had melted into dawn and then day, and then dusk and then night... And now it was getting dark outside again. The world might have ended and Lia wouldn’t know.
‘You didn’t answer my question.’
Ben put his hands on either side of her body and leant over her, his chest broad and bare. ‘It’s Sunday evening—and I don’t think I can take another Room Service meal.’
Lia reeled. She’d known what day it was—of course she had. But still... To hear him confirm that they’d passed almost three full days gorging on each other in a feast of the senses was overwhelming. She now knew, indelibly, that under Ben’s expert touch she’d discovered her own sensuality and had learnt to revel in it. For that alone she’d lost a part of her soul to him.
She seized on his words, glad of an excuse to get out of this far too intimate space. ‘I know a place near here...’
Ben smiled, and before Lia could stop him he’d whipped the sheet from her body. She squealed as he effortlessly lifted her into his arms. He strode into the bathroom and put her down to switch on the shower. She shivered with anticipation, unable to help herself.
Under the powerful spray of the water moments later, as Ben lathered shampoo into her hair and massaged her skull, Lia was glad she was facing away from him so he couldn’t see her face. Because suddenly she felt bereft. It was Sunday evening and their weekend was almost over.
She’d left him behind in Bahia because she’d known that he’d slid under her skin...and now? Lia closed her eyes, as if that could help block out the suspicion that sliding under her skin was only the half of it. She was afraid she’d lost a whole lot more than a piece of her soul to Ben Carter.
He turned her around then and she kept her eyes closed, desperately telling herself, as his clever hands explored her slick body, that this was just lust clouding her brain and making her think crazy things.
For a moment she felt almost angry—that he’d managed to seduce her soul as well as her body so easily. Damn the man. She’d never wanted to go the way of her father—crippled by rejection. Not that Ben would even reject Lia—oh, no, she couldn’t imagine him being so crass. He would do it with a silky touch and a devastating kiss and leave her reeling, wondering what had just happened...
But now Ben was sliding his hands between her legs, finding where her body was her ultimate betrayer and saying, ‘Look at me, Lia.’
So, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she welcomed the distraction from her whirling, dangerous thoughts and assured herself that she would be fine. And she opened her eyes and kept them on him even as he tipped her over the edge and she screamed out her release...even as she was afraid that her worst fears would manifest in spite of everything.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LIA MIGHT HAVE regretted bringing Ben to her favourite restaurant if she hadn’t been so hungry and in a physically weakened state from an overload of pleasure.
She took in the exposed stone walls covered with sepia-toned pictures of Italian scenes, slightly mottled with age. The small tables covered with checked tablecloths and the small vases filled with fake posies of flowers.
Feeling defensive, even though he looked remarkably at ease and delicious, dressed casually in faded jeans and a light woollen jumper, Lia said, ‘I’m s
ure you’re used to more salubrious establishments...but it’s unpretentious and the food is to die for.’
Ben looked at her and smiled that wicked smile. It was as if he’d reached out and stroked her skin with his finger.
‘If I’d known you were such a cheap date I’d have taken you to Jersey shore instead of Bahia.’
Lia’s pulse tripped at his teasing.
And then he leaned forward and said conspiratorially, ‘I’ll have you know that I spent many a weekend serving margherita pizzas, and lasagne, to hungry New Yorkers while I worked my way through college.’
Lia seized on the opening he’d given her. ‘How did you get to college?’
‘As a kid from a foster home?’
She half shrugged and nodded. He knew she wasn’t a snob, that she hadn’t meant it like that. But she was curious to know how he’d begun his climb to the top.
Their starters had been served, and Ben took a bite from his calamari fritti, and wiped his mouth. ‘After my parents died I was sent to my first foster home in Queens.’
Lia frowned. ‘There were no friends or family who could take you in?’
A hard gleam came into Ben’s eyes, turning them cold. Lia repressed a shiver and remembered what he’d said about people turning their backs on his parents after the scandal.
‘My parents were both only children, and their own parents were dead. My mother had trouble conceiving. I was the result of years of IVF treatment.’
Lia took some of her soup but didn’t taste it. Her whole attention was on Ben. She put down her spoon. ‘What was it like...after they died?’
He looked at her. Strong, formidable. It was hard to imagine this man ever being vulnerable.
‘It was tough...but it was almost a relief. They’d both fallen to pieces in the aftermath of the scandal. My father had become a bitter drunk. I used to come home from school, after another beating for my accent and different mannerisms and the fact that I was way ahead of everyone else in my class, to find him passed out on the couch. My mother was totally helpless. A Long Island princess living a nightmare. I had to do everything for them.’ His jaw tightened. ‘But that wasn’t what bothered me the most—it was the fact that they gave up so easily.’
Lia tried to ignore the tightening in her chest. ‘You got beaten up for your accent?’
He nodded. ‘Every day. Until I realised that I had to fight back. And I did. I learned to blend in. By the time my parents died no one from my previous school would have recognised me.’ He looked at her with a warning light in his eyes. ‘It’s not a pretty story, Lia.’
‘If you think I’m looking for pretty stories then you still don’t have a clue who I am,’ she fired back.
Ben shook his head, an enigmatic look in his eyes. ‘Tell me again why it is that you’re not sunning yourself on some millionaire’s yacht and worrying about tan lines?’
She arched a brow. ‘That’s the only choice open to me, is it? I could ask the same of you—you’ve surely earned enough by now...’
Ben lifted his glass, mouth quirking, ‘I deserve that. Touché.’
When he stayed silent, though, still waiting for an answer, Lia said, ‘I told you—it’s never been what interests me. I was always nerdy at school—more interested in studying than in gossip or clothes—which didn’t exactly earn me lots of friends.’
Ben tilted his head to one side, with a look in his eyes that she didn’t quite like. ‘Why is it that I get the impression that you were a shy kid? You were shy that evening up on the podium at the auction too.’
Lia sucked in a breath. Was she so awfully transparent to him? His perspicacity made her feel vulnerable.
He was waiting for her answer, and she was tempted to laugh it off, but then she found herself admitting, ‘I was shy as a child. Cripplingly so. I had a stammer. And I used to blush all the time.’ She desisted from revealing her mother’s intolerance of that.
‘But you got over it,’ Ben said, and she heard the admiration in his voice.
Lia shrugged. ‘I had to. I couldn’t let it blight me.’
Their main courses arrived, and Lia seized the opportunity to divert his far too perceptive gaze from her, saying, ‘You still haven’t told me how you got to college.’
He gave her a look that told her explicitly that he didn’t normally accept this level of grilling from anyone, but she just raised her brow again. He’d grilled her, and he’d comprehensively upended her life—this was the least she deserved.
Eventually he sighed and said, ‘It started with a cop—an Irish/American called Clancy. He picked a bunch of us up one day. By the age of sixteen I was in a gang. We were on our way to becoming serious delinquents—cutting school, shoplifting. I hadn’t come on his radar before, so he looked into my background. When he found out where I’d come from he took me aside and laid it on the line. He told me that I’d already had more of a chance than any of those other kids, and that I was squandering the legacy my parents had given me.’
Ben shook his head.
‘I was hard work by then—seriously angry and bitter with the world. He almost didn’t get through to me...but he persuaded me to take part in a mentoring programme where local businessmen took on kids for internships. I ended up working as an intern for a local construction guy, and that was the start of it. I got out of the gang...stayed out of trouble as much as I could. It helped that I’d got moved to a more stable foster family. When I graduated from high school my mentor helped me get a scholarship to college and I did my basic degree. From that moment on I spent every minute either waiting tables or working on construction sites all over New York, and as soon as I got an opportunity I took it and didn’t look back.’
Lia absorbed this and tried not to let herself picture the young angry teen at war with the world around him and grieving for so much. She knew instinctively that Ben wouldn’t appreciate it. So instead she forked up a piece of her carpaccio and said lightly, ‘Is that all?’
Ben just looked at her—and then he threw back his head and let out a sharp laugh. When he looked back at her there was something like grudging respect in his eyes and her chest expanded with a rush of emotion. Dangerous.
He shook his head. ‘You never fail to surprise me, Miss Ford.’
She smiled back, even though the realisation of how happy it made her to make him laugh scared the life out of her. ‘I try.’
His eyes narrowed on her then, and he said, ‘So, why do you protect your father so much?’
Lia put down her fork, immediately feeling defensive. ‘It’s always been just the two of us...’ She hesitated, and then said, ‘After my mother left he never really recovered. For years he’s suffered ill health, and I’ve always suspected it’s mental as much as physical.’
‘You can’t take up the slack for him for ever.’
‘I know that,’ Lia said, the habitual weight of her father’s expectations resting on her shoulders.
Ben was looking at her, and for a second she allowed herself a very illicit daydream of what it would be like to lean on someone else... But she ruthlessly shut it down.
The waiter appeared beside them, breaking the tension, and without looking at the man Ben said, ‘We’ll take the cheque, please.’
Lia felt relieved that Ben wasn’t going to say any more about her father. Emotions she never usually allowed room to breathe were rising inside her, and when Ben held his hand out for hers, after leaving money on the table, she gave it without hesitation.
The cold air outside the restaurant didn’t help with restoring her sense of equilibrium. It was as if Ben had unlocked a box and now everything was spilling out—everything she’d kept locked up for years. For ever.
He turned to her, his face lean and beautifully stark in the early-evening light. ‘Lia—’
She reached up and put her hand over his mouth. His breath was warm against her palm. ‘Just kiss me, Ben.’
She was afraid that if she said any more she would want more than he
was offering. He put his hand over hers and pressed a kiss to her palm, and then he pulled her in close, right into his body, and kissed her deeply and thoroughly. It was as effective a way as any to block out the thoughts and feelings she wasn’t prepared to inspect. Yet.
Ben seemed perfectly happy to avoid talking too, bundling her into a taxi before things got too heated in the middle of the busy street. The atmosphere in the back of the taxi was thick with sexual tension, and by the time they eventually reached the hotel suite again they couldn’t even make it to the bedroom, stopping at the first soft surface, their urgency so frantic that when it was over Lia realised that they were both still partially dressed.
By the time they did make it to the bedroom, and Ben took off the rest of her clothes as reverently as if she was made of china, Lia knew that she was in serious trouble. No amount of distracting sex was going to keep the emotions and thoughts bubbling just under the surface at bay.
* * *
Lia was luxuriating in a hot bath early the following morning, while Ben was taking some calls on his phone, dressed fetchingly in nothing but a towel. She could get used to this decadent lifestyle, she thought to herself, as long as the Pandora’s Box of emotions she’d been avoiding dealing with since the previous evening stayed locked away.
But it was too late for that.
Lia wanted to submerge herself under the water, block everything out, make it muffled. But she couldn’t. Despite the warm water and luxurious oils she was tense, and her belly was tight.
It was as if a Benjamin Carter–shaped whirlwind had stormed into her life and ripped everything apart, throwing it all in the air, and now Lia wasn’t sure where she fitted any more. Or even who she was.
Reluctantly she got out of the bath, her skin already wrinkling like a prune. Wiping the mirror clear, she sucked in a breath at her pink-cheeked reflection. She almost didn’t recognise herself.
Her hair was tied up and long tendrils clung to her cheeks and forehead. Her eyes were wide and troubled-looking, but also suspiciously dreamy. She could see marks on her pale skin from where Ben had touched her with his mouth or his hands, and it automatically sent a carnal thrill through her blood.