Oughta Be a Movie: a Sugar-&-Spice romantic comedy

by Susan Hammond

  The frown disappeared as quickly as it had come, and one corner of his mouth curved up. “Manganese, huh?”

  “Because it’s not a word you’d say when you’re…you know. But then some people get manganese and magnesium confused which doesn’t make sense to me because besides both being metals and sounding kinda alike, they’re really very different. Manganese is approximately four-and-a-half times as dense as magnesium and has a much higher melting point.”

  She should stop talking, but then she’d have to think about what they were really discussing.

  “Manganese, but not magnesium, can be a free element in nature. So really it’s more like iron. But if I said it—manganese—and you—I mean the other person—thought I was saying magnesium, you might think I was just commenting on a muscle cramp or something and that maybe I was saying I need more magnesium in my diet and not realize—”

  “Ali.” He tapped his finger on her lips but didn’t say anything until her eyes met his. “‘Stop, Ben’ will almost always get my attention, but it’s a good idea not to count on it. How about the classics? Red for stop, yellow for slow down or talk. And green.”

  “Green?”

  “Green when I check in with you to make sure you’re okay.”

  Ah, jeez. Were they really talking about this? How could he be so matter-of-fact? Because this wasn’t anything new for him. And how did she get in so far over her head? Because it’s what she wanted. Because it’s Ben.

  She turned her eyes to the street but managed to nod.

  “We’re not going to do anything tonight—or, for that matter, any other night—that you don’t want to do. Understand?”

  What was wrong with her? She wasn’t some teenage virgin. She’d had boyfriends before Timothy. She’d even tried a casual hook-up. Okay, that was once and a mistake. But still, she had experience even if most of it, especially with Timothy, was pretty routine and predictable. And she had fantasies. Lots of fantasies. Who better to explore those with than Ben? She trusted him. She knew him. Didn’t she? Except her life had gotten smaller over the last few years while his had gotten bigger and bigger.

  She turned back to look at him. Did they know each other at all?

  “Ali-Cat?”

  Like a bobble-head doll, she nodded again.

  “I’d feel better if you answered.”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Good.”

  His lips brushed hers, soft then firm. It wasn’t the fiery demand of their last kiss. Instead it was a warm, slow connection that felt like an embrace. His hands stroked her arms before they came up to frame her face, holding her carefully, gently tilting her head where he wanted it. She opened her lips, but he didn’t accept the invitation. Instead he pushed away from the wall and took her hand.

  “Let’s walk.”

  Neither one of them said anything as they continued on to the hotel. She tried to calm her runaway mind—think about lesson plans or that she really should call her grandmother—but the doubts wouldn’t go away. His hand tightened on hers for a second. The tick in his jaw said he had his own jumble of thoughts. But he didn’t explain, just gave her a small smile. Then a half block from the hotel, he stopped.

  “Ali…just so we’re clear. When we get to the hotel, I want you to come with me to my room. But no expectation. No pressure.” He ran the back of his hand along her jaw. “Actually I’d like to pressure you. Maybe toss you over my shoulder like Josh did Bree, but I won’t. It’s your choice.”

  “It might be easier if you—”

  “I…no. Easier yes, but you have a choice to make.”

  “It’s just…everything’s gone so fast. We haven’t seen each other in over a year. Then in just a few hours everything we’ve been…it’s all turned upside down.”

  “We’re still just us.” He opened his mouth to say more, but didn’t. Squeezed her hand again and started walking toward the hotel.

  Inside the lobby, Ben pushed the elevator button, and the door opened immediately. She didn’t even get a few extra seconds of waiting.

  Her choice to make.

  She’d been with Timothy because what she really wanted was out of reach. But now Ben was here, offering passion, exploration, fantasy. That scared her, but it wasn’t what held her back. His life was filled with movie stars and famous bands and leggy blondes and movies to be directed. She was a high school teacher, soon to be a biochem grad student. And a geek that checked the weather app on her phone. It was foolish to think this could ever be more than just one night. Maybe one weekend. How could she handle that when there was so damn much to lose?

  He held the door back as she stepped inside the elevator then followed her in. His hand hovered over the control panel.

  “Your floor or mine?”

  She turned her head away, not able to look at him and not wanting him to see her lip trembling.

  “Mine.”

  She tried to wipe away the tears before he saw her crying. But he saw. His arm came around her shoulder and pulled her against him.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “Shhh.” He brushed a kiss on her forehead. “It’s okay, Peanut. We’re okay.”

  He got off on her floor and walked her to her room, taking her key from her and opening her door, but when she stepped inside he didn’t follow.

  His smile looked forced, but his voice was even. “I’ll see you at the brunch in the morning. Save me a seat.”

  Still fighting back tears, the best she could manage was another bobble-head impersonation. She stood at the door and watched him walk to the stairway at the end of the hall. He didn’t look back.

  One shoe went flying across the room as she kicked them off, stripping off her clothes as she made her way to the shower. She leaned against the tiles and let the hot water run over her, not trying any longer to stop the sobs.

  She wanted Ben. She wanted the sex. The teasing. The laughing. The listening. The friendship. The understanding. He didn’t even grimace when she started giving her mini science seminars. Or care that she had three weather apps on her phone. Timothy grimaced every time, even when he was the one that triggered it. He always said if—

  She turned off the water and wrapped a towel around herself, digging in her cosmetic case for a hair brush. And why had she listened to what Timothy said? Why had she stayed with someone who thought she needed fixing?

  Even when Ben had put himself on the line and she’d said no, he hadn’t made her feel wrong. He didn’t want to fix her. He wanted her the way she was. And when he goes back to LA, then what? Or what if he’s just curious after all these years, and it’s just sex. She could get hurt. But maybe not. Because what if it’s not only one night? And even if it is, isn’t this one night better than never knowing?

  All she had to do was grab for what she wanted. And ignore the doubts. She could handle tomorrow.

  She tossed the towel on the floor and riffled through a drawer for underwear, t-shirt, and shorts, putting them on without even looking at what she’d picked up. She searched for the flats she’d kicked off, but could only find one. Her wedding heels were sitting by the bureau, so she stepped into those, stuffed her room key in her shorts pocket, and dashed out the door and up the stairs.

  Just as she raised her hand to knock on his door, it opened. Ben stood there in jeans and nothing else, holding a t-shirt in his hand. His hair was wet, so he must have showered. She glimpsed the surprised look on his face before she was momentarily transfixed by his bare chest. Still had the six-pack.

  “You’re going somewhere.” Could she have found anything dumber to say?

  “Yes.”

  Where was he going dressed—or rather not dressed—like that? Heat rushed across her face when it dawned on her that he was obviously going to someone’s room.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come without texting first.” She started to take a step back, but his hand snaked out so fast and grabbed her arm that she didn’t have a chance to move.

/>   “I was coming to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “To change your mind. If that didn’t work, Plan B was to toss you over my shoulder.”

  Chapter 12

  He should have given her romance, instead of some “you choose” ultimatum, but he’d wanted—needed—her to choose this, and he’d made the choice too hard, too stark. Every second since walking away from her, he’d regretted that he hadn’t held her and kissed her. Told her how much he wanted her. So he’d stuffed his pockets full of condoms and flung open the door, going to set things right.

  She’d been crying. And he’d done that. But in spite of his bumbling, she was standing right here in front of him.

  Standing here in…what the hell did she have on? The heels she’d worn in the wedding with baggy, gray gym shorts and a t-shirt that at one time must have been green but would have been a better fit on an NFL tackle. Except it was a sure bet that no lineman had ever worn a t-shirt that said:

  I may look lazy, but on a molecular level I’m quite busy.

  Trying to bite back the doofus grin that was spreading across his face, he took in her dark eyes, her mess of wild curls, her face scrubbed free of make-up. He’d never seen a sexier, more beautiful woman in his life.

  But he wanted to hear her say it. “Why are you here?”

  “I want this.”

  His palm caressed her cheek. “I know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His finger slipped inside the droopy neck of her t-shirt, rubbing softly back and forth. “Your flush here. Your breathing speeds up. Your eyes get very dark.”

  “Mydriasis. That’s because the autonomic nervous system is ramping up. It’s an involuntary reaction like goose bumps. It may be caused by, at least in part, by the natural release of oxytocin. Pupillometry—measuring the size of the pupils—can even be used as a non-invasive measure of sexual response, you know, strong sexual arousal.”

  Kissing her neck, the curve into her shoulder, he felt her shudder. “I like it when you talk dirty. And is it?”

  “Is it what?”

  “Strong sexual arousal.”

  “Yes.” She stepped in, closed the door behind her, and locked it. “Fear can also cause mydriasis—pupil dilation.”

  “You’re afraid?”

  “It’s just…it’s just I don’t know what to expect.” Before he could respond, she asked, “Are there rules?”

  Her question surprised him, but it shouldn’t have. Ali expected—wanted—what he’d been teasing her with for hours. Ben wanted it too, but tonight he wanted to make love to her. “I’m going to hear about this ‘stuff’ you read. But we’ll get to that later. No rules for now, just trust. Know that I’m going to take care of you. If we need rules, we’ll make them up as we go along.”

  His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her against him, as he brushed his lips across hers. Small kisses, taking it slow, drawing this moment out, but his storied control was failing him. He gathered the bottom of her shirt into his hands. And gathered and gathered. The thing was huge. But then he felt her warm, bare skin. His hand moved across her back, but instead of a bra fastening, his fingers met…more clothes? Was she wearing armor? He pressed his lips against her hair to hide his smile. All the sweeter to strip you bare, sweetness.

  Sliding his hand around her ribcage, he held the weight of one breast in his hand and brushed the tip with his thumb. In spite of the sturdy fabric, she responded. Her nipple pebbled against his finger as her back arched, but he felt her try to tamp down her response. Don’t run, baby. He shifted, one leg between hers, and took their kiss deeper, harder. As their tongues tangled, he slid his hand to her lower back and pressed her against his leg. She curved into him, and he felt the tremors run through her body. So damned responsive.

  Then just like before, she straightened, holding back her body’s reaction. It was torture when he held her tighter against him and rubbed his leg along that sensitive spot. Her mind struggled against what her body wanted, but she couldn’t silence the little noises in her throat. Still, she wasn’t even close to turning off that smart brain and simply letting herself feel. Letting herself take what she wanted. In fact, those brainy molecules were the busiest of them all, and he needed to put those busy mental molecules to work for her.

  Through the heavy fabric, he gave the tip of her breast a pinch as he eased away from her. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she made that throaty sound again. So tempting to just pick her up and carry her to the bed, but he wanted her embracing all the pleasure he could give her, not fighting it.

  “We’re going to play a game.”

  She shook her head and blinked her eyes, trying to focus on him, his words. “A game? You want to play a game right now? Like what?”

  “Think of it as X-rated Truth or Consequences.” Her mouth formed the word ‘oh.’ Her eyes widened. “It’s simple. I ask a question, you have five seconds to answer. Honestly. If you don’t—or won’t—” His finger trailed down between her breasts. “I get to touch you anywhere, any way I want.” He paused and was rewarded with her small gasp when he added, “Or have you touch yourself. And you forfeit your next question.”

  “What about me?”

  “The same.” Her eyes shifted from side-to-side as she debated. Push, pull. Expose herself or not. Trust him or not. Do this, don’t do this. But her eyes were even darker than before. She clearly wanted to play, but he held his breath, waiting for her response.

  “Okay.”

  “One more thing.” He watched her eyes, wondering if she’d retreat again at his next words. Brushing his thumbs on the underside of her heavily shielded breasts, he added, “This is a sexy, dirty game. You play naked.”

  Her eyes, still half closed with arousal, flew open. “You want me to take off my clothes?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about you?”

  Ben stepped back and leaned on the edge of the desk, his hands braced beside him, legs extended. “I watch.”

  Her mouth opened, but no words came out. A parade of expressions marched across her face—arousal, embarrassment, indecision. He was holding his breath again until she looked at him and reached for the bottom of her t-shirt. When she pulled it up high enough to slip her thumbs inside the waistband of her shorts, he sucked air so quickly she must have heard. But watching her shimmy out of those gym shorts until they dropped to the floor was enough to stop his breathing again.

  She grasped the hem of her t-shirt, but this time she pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. White cotton panties—boy shorts. And the sports bra he’d expected. What he hadn’t expected was the crazy combination of purple checks with gray-and-white stripes, a turquoise zipper, and black trim.

  Perfectly Ali. No artifice, no black lace, no planned seduction. Just her.

  When her hand went to the front zipper, he shifted, trying to get more comfortable. Lowering the zipper slowly, she never took her eyes off his, only glancing down for a second as she separated the two sides, looking at him again as she shrugged it off and let it drop. Magnificent. His hands tightened on the edge of the desk. It was a sure thing that one group of his molecules was very busy. How the hell was he supposed to hold out long enough to take this where he wanted it to go? But he wasn’t waiting any longer to touch her. “Come here.”

  She stepped out of her heels, and he let that go for now. He’d have her put them back on later. Holding out his hands, he pulled her to stand between his legs and filled his hands with her breasts. “So beautiful.” When he softly rubbed across her nipples, she arched into his hands. “Cross your arms behind your back.” She hesitated a second then did as he asked. His hands at her hips, he pulled her closer and lowered his head to take one tip in his mouth, stroking her gently with his tongue, then suckling, at first gently, then harder. She arched again and her head tilted back. Exploring this, he moved to the other tip and held it with his teeth, teasing it with his tongue before he nipped. She stiffened, then her head dropped
further back, and she made that soft sound in the back of her throat. Using his thumb, he massaged where he’d left the small pain then returned to the gentle torture of touching her too lightly before he pinched and twisted.

  “Ben.”

  All she’d said was his name, but it sounded like a plea. “Patience, sweetness. Let it build.” Looking away and reminding himself that he needed to take that advice himself, he glimpsed her reflection in the closet-door mirror across the room.

  They might be called boy shorts, but there was nothing “boy” about them. Sweet, innocent, white knit, clinging to that tempting ass. A hint of saucy cheeks just visible, could only be better if they were pink from his hand. Pink like the writing across the swell of her butt. From that distance and reversed in the mirror, he couldn’t make out the words.

  “Turn around.”

  Sassy Pants Day!

  He laughed. “Sassy pants, huh?” She glanced down as if to see what she was wearing. Then looked over her shoulder at him with a grin.

  “They’re part of a set. Kinda like Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…except with attitude. But I can’t find my Bossy Pants.”

  “Good.”

  He was still chuckling as he pinned the elbow she’d tried to nudge him with. “As appealing as your sassy pants are, I want to see your sassy ass. Naked.” Her eyes widened. “Step forward.” He dropped to a crouch behind her and slid the panties down, leaving a kiss on each inch he revealed. More than one at the crease between her thigh and buttock. Standing up behind her, his fingertips grazed the cleft between her cheeks, and he felt her response. “Okay, game on.”

  He sat in the desk chair and patted his thighs. “Sit here. Straddle my lap.” Ali didn’t move except for her eyes flitting between his eyes and his lap.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ll be kind of exposed.”

  “Exactly.”

  Chapter 13

  Ben bit back his smile at the look she gave him. She wouldn’t win any prizes in a Best Submissive Contest—in fact, that look would earn most submissives an immediate trip to a spanking bench—but she sat as he’d asked. He ran his hands along her thighs. “Good girl.” He was ready for a killer look, even a smart remark, but it was something else. In fact, she looked nervous but pleased with herself.