by Tawna Fenske
“Wow, you take movie night pretty seriously.”
He looked up and grinned at her. “My dad has BALSAC, I have WoHaReHa.”
“WoHaReHa? That sounds like a medical condition.”
He laughed. “WoHaReHa—another acronym. Work Hard, Relax Harder.”
“I didn’t know you could relax hard.”
“You can do anything hard if you put your mind to it.” He grimaced. “Okay, that sounded dirtier than I meant it to.”
Holly grinned and moved into the living room, settling into one corner of the blanket nest. She grabbed an orange bowl filled with popcorn and shoved a handful into her mouth. “Oh my God, real butter.”
“Damn straight. It’s the only way to eat popcorn. Can I get you something to drink?”
“I don’t suppose you have root beer?”
“With or without ice cream?”
“I think I might love you.”
He laughed and flicked something on the television, bringing the giant screen to life. He stood up and walked toward her, dropping the remote onto the blanket beside her. “I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared around the corner as Holly grabbed another handful of popcorn and thought about how nice this was. It wasn’t normally how she’d behave with a brand new client, but there was nothing normal about this arrangement with Ben. Professionalism aside, there was something about him that made her feel like she’d known him for years. Like they were old college buddies or pals from middle school.
Of course, “buddy” and “pal” were the furthest words from her mind as he strode back into the room wearing navy fleece pants and a snug gray T-shirt. He was holding two root beer floats, and she couldn’t decide which sight was more delicious.
“Here you go,” he said, handing her one of the mugs. He shoved his glasses up his nose and sat down beside her, pulling a pile of blankets over his legs. There were at least three feet between them—a nice, platonic distance—but she could feel the warmth of his body even from this far away.
“What are we watching?” She took a sip of her root beer float, enjoying the creamy fizz on the back of her tongue.
“Plan 9 from Outer Space. Have you seen it?”
“I’ve never even heard of it.”
“Excellent. It was made in 1959, and it’s considered by many to be the worst movie ever made.”
She gave a dry laugh. “And we’re watching it why?”
He grinned and spooned up a bite of ice cream. “Because it’s so bad, it’s gloriously, tragically awful. You’ll see.” He dropped his spoon back in the mug, then picked up the remote and flicked a button.
He scrolled through a menu on the television screen as Holly snuggled back against the blankets and took a sip of her own float. It was creamy and delicious, with the perfect proportions of soda to ice cream. She watched the screen as the credits gave way to a grainy, black and white image of a funeral. She nibbled another handful of popcorn as the film segued into a parade of lurching zombies and flying saucers trailing along on strings.
“You weren’t kidding,” she said around a mouthful of root beer float. “This is terrible.”
“I know.” He grinned and reached into her popcorn bowl. “Isn’t it awesome?”
“Kinda. Did you just steal my popcorn?”
“Mine’s gone. You have plenty.”
“Not if you keep snarfing it like that.”
“Snarfing? Did you just make up a word?”
“I work in PR. If I can make an antisocial geek into a charming CEO, I can make a random string of sounds into a real word.”
“Good point. Shh! This is the best part.”
Holly smiled and grabbed another handful of popcorn, feeling ridiculously happy. It was more than just the delightful cheesiness of zombie attacks and bad acting. It was the closeness of Ben, the salty goodness of the popcorn, the cozy comfort of sharing a blanket nest with a big, strong man who looked like an oversized version of Clark Kent.
She kept stealing glimpses at him, marveling at the fact that she hadn’t even known this guy twenty-four hours ago. She snuggled closer, telling herself it was just a friendly response to a friendly situation.
Ben glanced at her and shifted closer, near enough now that she could feel the heat from his bare arm. He plunged his hand into the popcorn at the precise moment she did the same, their greasy fingers tangling at the bottom of the bowl.
“Well this is awkward,” he said, flashing her a grin that was anything but awkward. “Guess I should make more.”
“Guess so.”
“Or we could thumb wrestle for the last handful.”
“Thumb wrestle?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never thumb wrestled?”
“Guilty as charged. Not only am I a Plan 9 virgin, but also a thumb wrestling virgin.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her, studying her face for a moment. Then he leaned closer, his breath ruffling her hair. “In that case, I believe it’s my job to deflower you.”
Chapter Six
Ben couldn’t believe he was honestly trying to flirt with a gorgeous woman by using a bad sci-fi movie and a thumb wrestling challenge.
He also couldn’t believe it was working.
“One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war.” He counted slowly, his fingers locked with Holly’s as they moved their thumbs back and forth over each other in the bizarre digit dance that accompanied the rhyme. “Five, six, seven, eight, try to keep your thumb straight.”
She giggled and lunged with her thumb, a valiant effort, but a misguided one. Her thumbs were half the length of his, and this was her first time playing. It was hardly a fair fight, but that didn’t mean Ben planned to let go of her hand anytime soon.
“Oooh! Almost!” she cried as the pad of her thumb slid down the side of his, a gesture that shouldn’t be sexy, but totally was. Her skin was warm, her hands were soft, and he could see straight down the front of her top to where she most definitely wasn’t wearing a bra.
Of course, that was something his father would do, so Ben quickly looked away and focused on their intertwined fingers.
“Nice effort,” he said, maneuvering his thumb to the side, letting her take another swipe at him. Her nails were polished with a tasteful shade of shell pink, and he had a crazy urge to suck the popcorn butter off one digit at a time.
Holly lunged again with her thumb, sitting up on her knees for a better angle. She was totally cheating, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to keep touching her like this, to hear her laugh as she gripped his knuckles and maneuvered her thumb against his.
“Dammit! I almost had you.” She laughed as he moved his thumb out from under hers without much effort. He let her get a little cockier, jabbing too quickly as he dodged easily out of her way.
“Nice try,” he murmured. “Try keeping your hand steady.”
“Like this?”
“Mmm-hmm. Better.”
“Ha!” She attacked again. “You just wait, Mr. CEO. I will own you.”
“I welcome the challenge.”
Just like he welcomed the closeness of her body, warm and lush and round and so very, very near. Ben let her take another swipe at him, in no big hurry to end the game.
“I think you have an unfair advantage at thumb wrestling,” Holly said as her thumb skittered off the side of his.
“How’s that?”
“You have hands the size of baseball mitts. Seriously, did you eat your Wheaties as a kid or what?”
“Something like that.”
She grinned and pounced again, her thumb sliding off his and making everything jiggle pleasantly beneath that pale yellow top. He should probably stop it—both the game and his urge to ogle her. It was hardly the right tone to set for the CEO of a major corporation and the branding expert he’d hired to turn him into a suave, sophisticated leader.
“Oh, you are so dead!” She laughed again, and Ben decided suave and sophisticated were overrated.
He hooked the
pad of his thumb over the top of her nail, pressing it firm against the top of their locked fingers. “One,” he counted, slow enough to let her squirm away if she wanted. “Two—”
“Ha!” she declared, wriggling free in an impressive display of agility. “Not so fast, big guy.”
“Still primed for battle, I see?”
“Battle, yes! I feel like we should have body armor or maybe swords.”
“I’ll see if my assistant can run to the Thumb Wrestling Emporium before our next tournament.”
She took another stab at pinning him, and Ben let her press his thumb down for a good three seconds before he slid out from under her. His father would roll his eyes if he saw this. It was hardly the most professional activity, certainly not something his father or any of the other suits at that party would be doing on a quiet Tuesday night.
But hadn’t his dad always encouraged competition and athletic pursuits as a platform for professional networking?
This probably isn’t what he meant.
“Ready for me to put you out of your misery?” Ben flexed his thumb dramatically and flashed Holly a grin he hoped made his words sound less cocky.
But hell, she was training him to be confident in business dealings. Wasn’t this good practice?
“I’d like to see you try,” she taunted.
“Very well.” He slid his thumb over hers and clamped down, pinning her digit with relative ease. Her eyes widened, and he felt her wriggling beneath him, trying to get free.
“Hey!” She giggled and tried to pull back, but Ben held tight.
“One, two, three, four, it appears I’ve won this thumb war.” He held her gaze for a moment, smiling with triumph and maybe a little lust. Then he let go of her hand and took off his glasses. He lifted the hem of his shirt and used it to wipe a smudge off one of the lenses. “I believe I’ve made my point.”
Holly drew her hand back, though Ben was pleased to see she didn’t put any distance between them. “What point is that?”
“Nerds can be fierce and valiant in combat.”
“Nerds can also have six-pack abs, apparently.” She reached out and patted his bare midsection, and Ben dropped his shirt hem and stopped polishing his glasses. “Between those and the monster paws, you’re unlike any nerd I’ve ever met.”
“Monster paws?”
“Big hands, big feet—monster paws.”
“I’ll have to have that printed on my business cards.”
She grinned and reached for his hand again. “Come on, best two out of three?”
“You want to thumb wrestle again?”
“Afraid you’ll lose?”
Ben set his glasses aside and turned back to her. She’d gotten one thing right—he was no dummy. If she was offering him the opportunity to touch her again in any capacity, he was sure as hell going to take it.
He locked his fingers with hers again and stared into her eyes. “You sure about this?”
She held his gaze, not moving, not blinking, not even smiling now. Then she nodded slowly, making no move to initiate the game. “Positive.”
“Ready?”
“Uh-huh. Let’s do this.”
His gaze was still locked with hers, and he could see her chest rising and falling at a quicker rate than it had been a few seconds ago. He wasn’t the best with social cues, but something told him she wasn’t talking about thumb wrestling anymore.
“You know…” she said softly. “This is actually even more impressive than your abs.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve been here less than an hour and you’ve already got me braless and tangled up in your bedding while we hold hands.”
Ben felt the blood drain from his brain and head south. He held tight to her hand. “Technically, you’re the one who took your bra off.”
“Even more impressive. You got me to do the hard work. Clearly the mark of a strategic-thinking, alpha male businessman.”
“So what would a strategic-thinking, alpha male businessman do next to demonstrate his budding leadership skills?”
Her throat moved as she swallowed, and something that looked a little like fear flashed in her eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by something he thought might be lust. Had he really inspired that?
“I suppose he might take the initiative to kiss me,” she said softly.
“You think so?”
“Don’t we owe it to your professional development to give it a shot?”
Her tone was teasing, but there was something else there. A challenge or an invitation. He wasn’t quite sure, but one thing he did know—he desperately wanted to kiss her, had been thinking about it every minute since he first touched his lips to hers in the furniture store.
He let go of her hand and slid his fingers over the nape of her neck, moving slowly, giving her the chance to say no if she wanted to.
“Yes,” she murmured, and she surged forward, knocking him backward onto the sea of blankets as her lips found his. She kissed him hard, then drew back, grinning on top of him. “And that’s how you pin someone in thumb wrestling.”
“I’m glad my uncle never played like that.” He drew her mouth to his again, then rolled her over, pinning her beneath him on a fluffy blue down-filled comforter. He deepened the kiss and she responded in kind, soft and sweet and hungry. Her body arched against his as her thighs wrapped around him, holding him against her. He could feel the warmth between her legs and wondered if she’d ditched the panties when she changed in the bathroom. The thought made him hard. Harder. God, she felt good.
Holly moaned and pressed her body tighter against his as Ben skimmed a palm down her arm, feeling goose bumps rise on her flesh. He kept kissing her, pretty sure he never wanted to stop. Something about this reminded him of a high school make-out session, though he couldn’t honestly say why. Graduating from high school at sixteen meant he’d missed out on a lot of those milestones, but he wasn’t missing a damn thing now. She felt warm and soft beneath him, and her whole body was molded against his.
Ben broke the kiss to plant another one behind her ear, then down her throat and over her collarbone. Holly moaned as he slid lower, lifting the hem of her shirt to make a trail of kisses down her rib cage, over her belly, then up again.
“God, that feels good.”
“Mmm,” he murmured, pushing aside the elastic inside the shirt. He wasn’t sure if it was there to hold her breasts in place or to deter unwanted groping, but the way she was writhing and gasping beneath him told Ben none of this was unwanted.
His mouth found her nipple—
She gasped and threaded her fingers into his hair. “Don’t stop.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He took his time on her breasts, licking, sucking, dipping into the hollow between them and resurfacing on the other side to give the same attention to the other one. By the time he came up for air, Holly was panting like she’d just run a marathon. She pressed a hand to his chest, then pushed him away.
Ben started to apologize, but she got to her knees and pulled off her top. She flung it across the room as he sat up too, putting them face to face. She reached for him again as he slid his hands up her sides to cup one breast in each hand.
“You have the best hands,” she moaned, pressing so hard against them he thought he might hurt her. He squeezed softly, making her groan again, and he marveled at the notion that he could rouse such a response in her. Her breasts were perfectly sized, not too big and not too small, just the right fit in the center of his palms.
He found her lips again and kissed her, breathing in the scent of flowers and buttered popcorn. Holly moved against him as he slid his thumbs over her nipples again just to hear her gasp. He felt her fingers clutching at the hem of his shirt, and he let her pull it up and over his head so they were skin on skin. She felt so fucking good, so soft and warm and pliant against him.
Her fingers clenched around his biceps, and he let her pull him back down to the ground beside her. Lyin
g on his left side next to her, he let his right hand move down her abdomen, his fingers dipping under the waistband of the gray cashmere pants. He went slow, giving her a chance to say no or remind him this wasn’t a good way to establish a business relationship.
Instead, she raised her hips so he could slide her pants the rest of the way off. Christ, he couldn’t believe this was happening, but he seemed powerless to stop it. His fingers trailed between her legs as she opened them wider.
“God you’re wet,” he murmured.
“I swear I don’t usually do this with someone I’ve just—”
“Shhh,” he murmured, kissing her to halt any explanation she felt she might need to deliver.
He wasn’t interested in judging her. He was interested in tasting her.
He slid down her body, leaving a wet trail of kisses as he went. First her belly button, then her hipbone, then the crease of her leg, then—
“Oh my God!”
Her fingers gripped his head as his tongue probed her center, tasting, teasing, circling. Holly arched her back and clutched his hair as his tongue made slow circles around her clit. God, she tasted amazing. He shifted his weight to one elbow, freeing his right hand to move between her thighs. He slid one finger in, making her gasp again as he circled his tongue faster, working the sensitive nub.
He let his finger glide in and out, feeling her press against him with each stroke. She tensed around him, and he flattened his tongue, wanting her to feel him everywhere.
“I’m close,” she gasped, and the words sent a jolt through him.
He could feel her coiled like a spring beneath him as he licked her again. It was a powerful feeling, knowing all he had to do was slide his finger in again, stroke her just once more with his tongue and then—
“Ben!” she screamed and dug her nails into his shoulders, bucking against him. He was delirious with the taste of her and the tight clench of her body around him. She screamed again, and he dropped one hand to her hip to hold her steady as he licked and stroked and sucked until he felt her go slack beneath him.
Ben drew back and rested a hand on her belly. She was lying back on the comforter with her eyes closed. Her cheeks were flushed and damp and a strand of dark hair lay plastered to her cheek. Ben had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life, and he wanted her all over again.