by Jill Shalvis
She wound her arms around his neck, kissing his ear, his cheek, his neck, whatever she could reach, loving the pressure of his steadying arm around her waist.
Ben unlocked the door and pulled her inside. “I’m really sexy all the time,” he told her, stepping so close that she had to look up to see his eyes, even in her kick-ass shoes.
He cradled her face with his hands and Chloe’s breath shook as she exhaled. Heat rolled from his body, bewitching her senses. The feel of him, the sounds, the scent. No cologne, just warm skin. Simple. Manly. Intoxicating.
His thumbs brushed her cheeks, his fingers slid into her hair, and he lowered his head. The sweet thrill of his lips against hers paralyzed her. Ben’s kisses always seemed to knock the wind from her, make her gasp. She was helpless to move as her world narrowed to just their mingling breaths and the sweet pressure of his mouth as he started walking her farther into the room.
Then he spun her around and pressed her up against the wall. The paint was cool against her skin, and Ben was hard and warm as he molded himself to her back. The dichotomy was hot as hell. Especially when he started kissing her neck…
“Oh, God. Ben,” she breathed as his right hand grazed her breast, caressing it, setting her on fire. His hand continued its sensual journey down the front of her body, and she resented the dress she’d loved hours earlier, as it blocked her aching skin from the hand skimming over her stomach, her thigh, lower. Finally his warm palm reached her knee, and when he began the journey back up her leg, he slipped his hand underneath her dress. Now there was nothing but the erotic heat of skin against skin as his fingers tracked up to her inner thigh. It felt incredible, his hands on her like this. Chloe braced her palms against the wall, opening her legs, pushing her ass against his erection.
He groaned as he dug his fingers inside her panties, and she thought she might pass out from the pleasure.
“You’re so wet.”
She could only sigh in response as his finger invaded her.
* * *
BEN PLUNGED ANOTHER finger into her slick wetness, and her whimper of pleasure went straight to his groin. She started chanting his name, low and pleading, and he was sure he’d never experienced anything as erotic as this moment.
“I’m so close,” she whispered.
He could feel her on the precipice, wanted so badly to give her what she craved.
Ben dropped his other hand to her clit, rubbing her through the damp lace even as he sped the rhythm of his fingers inside her. Her knees buckled as she came and she gave a sweet cry of release.
She was panting as she turned in his arms, her hair disheveled, her breasts on the verge of escaping her dress. Her satisfied smile was so goddamned sexy.
“Come to bed with me.” He barely recognized his own voice, the words were rough.
Chloe’s grin was naughty. “I’m not sure I can walk,” she teased.
“I can work with that,” he said, scooping her over his shoulder in the fireman’s hold. Chloe’s scream of surprise became laughter as he hauled her toward the bed and gave her a slap on the ass before dropping her on the giant mattress.
He shucked his suit jacket and crawled onto the bed, but when he tried to take charge, Chloe wasn’t having any of it.
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, a hand on his chest. “It’s my turn to explore,” she told him. And that was how he found himself flat on his back, staring up at a sexy vision as she reached for the zipper that ran down the side of her body. The sparkly gray dress began to gape as his temptress lowered the zipper inch by seductive inch.
Finally, the fabric fell open to reveal a strapless red lace push-up bra and a whole bunch of warm, willing Chloe.
Ben groaned as she pushed the dress down over her hips—the red lace panties were as sexy to look at as they’d been to touch—and finally the dress was gone and she was reaching for the buckle of one strappy studded high-heel.
“You said you’d leave the shoes on.” Ben wasn’t sure if it was an order or he was begging.
Chloe frowned playfully. “Hey, I thought I was in charge here.”
“You leave those shoes on and I’ll do anything you want.” Begging. Definitely begging.
Her smile signified the complete shift in power. “Well, how can I refuse an offer like that?” She crawled toward him, and her breasts looked so amazingly soft and perfect. Then she was straddling his hips and tugging off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, and he was lost.
She dropped kisses along his chest as she bared it, then his stomach. He tore his shirt the rest of the way off as she fumbled with his belt buckle, and he loved the look of concentration on her face. She was amazing. Sweet and edgy and sexy and real, all wrapped up in a cute little package that drove him wild. Then his belt came undone and he stopped thinking altogether.
She divested him of his shoes, his socks and finally his Calvin Kleins. Then she ran her hands up his thighs, and his breath stuttered with the pleasure. His hips flexed involuntarily as she drew ever nearer to the part of him that wanted her most. Ben didn’t know what he was expecting from that moment, but the sudden wet heat as she dragged her tongue the length of his shaft ripped a groan from his chest and he swore at the overwhelming sensation.
When she slipped him into her mouth, her fingers squeezing the base of his cock, the warm suction made his hips jerk.
“God. Chloe. I want to be inside you so bad.”
He reached down and dragged her up his body, kissing her as he rolled her onto her back. He paused to drink in the sight of her lying there in sexy red lingerie and do-me heels, wanting him. Thankfully he’d left his suitcase beside the bed, because he was half-mad with lust for her, and he wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer.
He had the condom on in record time, looking up from his task as Chloe popped the front clasp on her bra. Her breasts were beautiful, and he ached to feel them pressed against his chest as he took her.
He dragged her panties down her thighs, and she raised her knees so he could pull them past her shoes. And then there was nothing separating them. Ben positioned himself between her legs, staring into her eyes as he slid home into the slick, smooth heat of her.
His name was a gasp on her lips as they moved together, and Ben tried to take it slow, but her nails were digging into his back and she was meeting him thrust for thrust, and things got out of control before he knew it. She wrapped her leg around his hip a split second before she came apart in his arms, and the aftershocks of her orgasm started his own. He gave in to the sharp wave of ecstasy and let himself drown in it.
* * *
MORNING CAME TOO EARLY, as it always did, in Chloe’s opinion. Despite the early hour, Chloe found herself smiling as she indulged in a sleepy stretch. The reason for her good mood was slung out on his stomach, his arm nestled against the underside of her breasts, his stubbly chin resting on her shoulder and his lips close to her neck.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” he mumbled into her hair.
“The whole macho caveman thing? Carrying me off to bed and having your way with me? That was kinda hot, Masterson. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Yeah, right. Everything about me screams sex god. You knew what you were getting into.”
Chloe laughed as he pulled her closer, kissing her neck before levering his big body out of bed. Chloe enjoyed the view, especially when he turned and began rooting through his suitcase. Ben Masterson was in possession of one very fine ass.
She pushed up on one elbow, clutching the sheet to her breasts with her other hand. “Where are you going?” she asked with an overly dramatic moue.
“Shower. Why, you wanna join me?”
“Forget it.” Chloe flopped back into the lavish bed, stretching luxuriously. “I am on vacation, sort of, and when I’m on vacation
, I don’t go anywhere until the glowing red numbers on that devil machine over there start with at least an eight.” She made a halfhearted gesture in the general vicinity of the alarm clock.
“C’mon, Chloe. Get up. Greet the day. You know what they say about early birds.”
“Whatever, drone. Tell the Man I said hi.” She snuggled deeper into the pillows.
“Fine,” he relented, closing his suitcase. He faced her, slinging his jeans and a white T-shirt over his shoulder. “You’ve got twenty minutes of peace while I shower and shave. But in return, you have to order room service.”
“Deal.” Chloe lifted a hand. “Pass me the menu?”
“Are you kidding me?” He reached behind him to grab the leather-bound menu from the ornate desk, lobbing it so it landed squarely on her stomach with a soft thwump. “Such a diva.”
“Not my fault.” Chloe picked up the menu and leafed through the gold-lettered pages. “Let’s put the blame on this king-size bed, where it belongs.”
Ben shook his head. “This bed is turning out to be more trouble than I expected.”
“The good stuff always is. No worms on the menu, Mr. Early Bird. You might have to settle for waffles.”
“Mmm. Syrupy.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips. As startled as Chloe was by the familiarity, she was even more startled that she didn’t mind. He was not what she’d expected from the corporate poster boy who’d struck up a conversation on the plane. She couldn’t help her grin as she watched him and his cute butt pad toward the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of tube socks.
The shower flipped on, and Chloe reclined on the mountain of pillows behind her, abandoning her menu-perusal duties now that Ben was gone. Instead, she nestled into the plush bedding and mentally relived some of last night’s more memorable moments.
By the time the water flipped off, she found that her dirty mind was sort of regretting turning down Ben’s offer for a tandem shower. She’d begun to formulate a plan to entice him into a second one when a knock at the door startled her back to reality.
“Who the hell?” she wondered with a glance at the clock. It seemed someone else was breaking her pre-eight in the morning rule.
Chloe was in the midst of wrapping a sheet around herself when the insistent knock sounded again. “Coming!” she called, but she was trapped on the bed for a moment until she located her abandoned stilettos. Shoving her feet into them, she hurried to the door as quickly as the unbuckled death traps would allow. “Coming,” she called again.
She wrenched the door open, shocked to find a distinguished man in a suit with a full head of white hair and a bushy white mustache. He looked equally surprised to see her standing there in nothing but a bunched-up sheet and last night’s heels.
Clearing his throat, he glanced at the girl beside him in the hallway. She was tall and thin, probably about fourteen, and her attention didn’t waver from her iPhone for even a second.
“I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, miss. I thought this was Ben Masterson’s room,” the gentleman said, making a move to leave, but as though his name had conjured the man, Ben pulled open the door to the bathroom, a white towel slung around his hips, and another draped around his shoulders as he rubbed one end over his wet hair.
“Is room service here already?” he asked, then froze as he spotted the man. Chloe noticed the kid had finally looked up from her phone. Not that she blamed her. Ben’s bare chest was a pretty powerful draw.
“Mr. Burke!”
Uh-oh. This was the hotel guy? The head honcho? Chloe realized, in retrospect, that smeared makeup, a bed sheet and stilettos might not have been the most inspired fashion choice for this moment.
“Mr. Masterson.” The address dripped with censure.
Chloe knew Ben was panicked because he stepped right out onto the carpet with bare feet, cellulitis be damned.
“Sir, I apologize for the towel. I wasn’t expecting you. I’d like you to meet Chloe…my wife.”
CHAPTER 7
“HAVE YOU LOST your mind?”
He’d expected the rage. Hell, he probably deserved it. He was just thankful she’d held it in check until their surprise visitors had headed off toward the dining room to procure a table for the breakfast meeting he and Chloe were about to attend with them.
“Don’t you get it? It’s a test, Chloe. That means I’m still in the running. He told me we were having lunch, but he showed up for breakfast—with his granddaughter. He wants to know if I can handle myself, and, by extension, his business when the shit hits the fan. This is my chance for redemption. Did you see the look on his face when I walked out of the bathroom? I couldn’t tell him I’d spent the night with a woman I met on the plane!”
“This is a horrible idea, Ben.”
“But you’ll do it?”
There was a long, heart-stopping pause as he watched a dozen expressions fight for dominance in her stunning eyes.
Her huff let him know he’d won.
“Fine. I’ll go to this stupid breakfast with you.”
Relief flooded through him in waves.
“You’ll pretend to be married to me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes. You suffered through an entire wedding with me. It’s only fair.”
“You’re the best, Chloe. Seriously.” He hurried over to the bed, searching for the suit pants he’d worn to the wedding. Ben grabbed them off the floor and reached into the left pocket, fumbling with his wallet for a moment before holding his hand in her direction. “Here. Put this on.”
“What? What the—? Is this a ring? Did you just pull a ring out of your wallet? Did you have that with you the whole time?”
Ben winced at his blunder. Guess he should have laid a little groundwork before springing the ring on her, but he was in kind of a hurry. “Just put it on, okay?”
“You said you were single! Single and, quote ‘loving it’ end quote. Why the hell do you have a ring with you?”
“Relax. I am single. I swear. It’s not what you’re thinking. I just carry it around as a reminder,” he added. Leaving out the “to never be so stupid as to end up married because women are nothing but trouble,” because he liked irony better when it wasn’t happening to him.
“What, it’s a good luck charm or something?”
“Or something,” Ben said.
Chloe looked skeptical. “It’s still weird,” she said, but to his infinite relief she slid the ring onto the appropriate finger, holding it up for inspection.
He wondered what she thought of it—a modest diamond flanked by two deep purple amethysts. A simple ring. Elegant, he’d always believed, though Mel had disagreed when he’d gotten down on one knee to give it to her. She’d been more into the idea of something “newer” with a “bigger diamond.”
“This is really pretty,” she said after a moment. “I love amethysts. They make everything look so elegant,” Chloe said, and his head snapped toward her.
“I’m still weirded out by the fact that you keep a ring in your wallet, though,” she grumbled. “That’s creepy. I’m talking serial-killer creepy. Putting this on had better not have made me the Bride of Death or something equally messed up,” she warned. “I don’t want to find out that all the ring’s previous owners are dead and I’m next.”
Ben smiled in spite of himself. “Well, you’re not totally off the mark. It was my grandma’s wedding ring. She left it to me when she died. Natural causes,” he assured her, and the joke defused some tension.
He walked over to the armoire and pulled out two of his suits—the gray one from the plane and a navy one—holding them up for Chloe’s inspection. “Which of these will best erase the memory of seeing me in a towel and re-establish me as a competent professional?” he asked.
“The navy one is extremely boring. I’d go with t
hat,” Chloe advised, rooting through her suitcase. “I’m just going to wear jeans, a T-shirt and a black blazer, because I’m pretty sure I didn’t pack anything that says ‘sorry we met while I was dressed like a slut.’”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ben said. “You never have to apologize to a man for that.”
* * *
“BEN, SO GLAD you and your lovely wife could join us.” The distinguished elderly man rose to his feet, and exchanged a swift shake with Ben before extending his hand to Chloe as well. “Chloe, thank you for coming. Please accept my apologies for our unorthodox meeting this morning. I wasn’t aware Ben was traveling with such a lovely companion. He didn’t mention he was married in our meeting.”
“Consider it forgotten. My husband is all business on these trips. Sometimes I think he forgets I’m even along for the ride. So thank you for inviting me, Mr. Burke. This is a lovely hotel you have.”
“Why, thank you, my dear. And please, call me Edward.”
Chloe nodded and sat in the chair Ben held out for her. She was disgusted with herself at how easily she could still fall back into the niceties of polite society. Fiona Masterson had trained her well.
Edward gestured to the young girl. “This is my granddaughter, Kenley.”
The sullen teen glanced up from her phone in momentary acknowledgment, but her thumbs never stilled on the screen. She was wearing a plaid, flannel shirt unbuttoned over a My Little Pony T-shirt and thick-rimmed glasses that were probably fake, and Chloe would have bet a substantial amount there were some Doc Martens hidden under the table, if anyone were offering odds on it.
“Kenley, what did we discuss?”
With a put-upon sigh, Kenley set her phone facedown on the table beside her. Edward gave a “kids these days” shrug of apology before calling the waitress over to take their breakfast orders. Once that was taken care of, he and Ben got down to business.
Chloe sipped gingerly at her coffee as she waited for her waffles to arrive.
“This is boring.”
Hearing Kenley speak in actual words startled her—she’d grown so used to the girl’s sighs and theatrical movement of limbs—but Chloe couldn’t argue with her assessment of reach and revenue and target markets.