The Proposal

by Jennifer Lewis

  They slipped the wedding bands on offered by their friends, and the priest talked of love, of fidelity and the strength of marriage. He intoned their virtues and duty to one another under the eyes of God. And then he pronounced them man and wife, no longer two separate people, but one entity bound to each other forever.

  With a gentleness belied by his strength, Benton pulled her to him and briefly pressed his lips to hers. The moment was too brief, the firm touch of him leaving her wanting more. But the others swarmed around them, congratulating them as Margaret slipped off to the kitchen and declared dinner now ready for consumption.

  Emme decorated the separate dining space Deacon reserved for large dinner parties. The delicate lighting, flowers and candles lining the long table carried a fairytale-like touch with the hint of Christmas. Grace, Ann and Margaret carried in the different foods with the help of the men. She and Benton were ordered to sit and do nothing, except fill their plates when the dishes were passed.

  When they all had glasses of champagne or sparkling cider, in Ashlyn’s case, Deacon lifted his glass. “I would like to propose a toast.”

  “That’s not really necessary,” Benton told his friend and boss.

  “Of course it is,” Alex disagreed.

  “Don’t worry, Benton. Alex isn’t the one toasting, so you can rest assured it will be tasteful.”

  “Hey, now.”

  Emme elbowed Alex. He shook his head and fell silent as the laughter died around them.

  “To Benton and Andrea. May your union be filled with love, laughter and much time. I consider both of you more than friends, but family as well, and I want the best for both of you.”

  Beneath the table, Benton gripped her hand, surprising her. She looked up into his face, but he was watching Deacon. Deciding to go with the moment, she tangled her fingers with his and felt both calmed and reassured by his touch.

  “Now, you know,” Ashlyn began, “we reserved the limousine to take you to the airport. I know you weren’t going to take a honeymoon because you were worried about taking time off, but Deacon wanted it to be a surprise and a wedding gift.”

  “Oh, Ashlyn, you didn’t need to do that! I’m not even packed.”

  Benton squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. I’m packed and Ashlyn packed for you.”

  She looked up at him. “You knew?”

  He shrugged.

  “My present is in the trunk,” Josh told them.

  “Oh, Lord,” was all Ashlyn said, earning Josh sticking his tongue out at her.

  Emme tipped her glass in their direction. “No argument, Andy. Kate picked the location, and I think you’ll love it.”

  “You guys...” Dropping her eyes to her plate so that she wouldn’t get overly emotional, Andrea quickly took a bite of her candied yams.

  Benton squeezed her hand and let go so that he could eat as well. “Thank you, all of you.”

  Recovering, Andrea offered her thanks too. Conversation flowed freely around them as they drank, ate and celebrated. This close to Benton, brushing his arm now and then, Andrea became acutely aware of what was beneath her dress. Heat pooled, and she crossed her legs, reprimanding herself for the thoughts. Another reason she didn’t want a honeymoon with Benton; they would be completely alone, with only the other to keep company. How difficult would it become to continue resisting what her body wanted?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Stuffed into the back of Deacon’s limousine, Andrea sat opposite of Benton. Her skirts took up half the space, bumping into his knees and burying the tops of his shoes. Her friends hadn’t let either of them change after dinner before shoving them out the door and toward the car. Ryan offered to drive them to the airport where Deacon’s private jet awaited.

  Pulling at the silk and lace, Andrea murmured, “Sorry.”

  Those cool gray eyes assessed her, holding secrets she wasn’t certain she wanted to know. A thrill, followed by a healthy dose of fear gripped her spine. Involuntarily, she shivered despite the warmth offered by the car.

  “It’s fine. Are you cold?” Benton started to shrug out of his jacket.

  “No, I’m-” He cut her words short, leaning forward to drape the gray clothing over her shoulders.

  Enveloped by the scent and heat of him, she resisted the need to pull the coat closer and bury her face in the collar. The jacket dwarfed her, never making her size or femininity more apparent. Benton removed his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, revealing muscular forearms she had no business mentally drooling over. It wasn’t as if they had never been alone before. So why was it the small space between them seemed charged with an energy she refused to put a name to?

  Wanting to distract herself, she picked at her skirt. “I can’t believe they wouldn’t even let us change.”

  Eyes on the shaded window, barely making shapes out in the passing dark, Andrea couldn’t tell his reaction. She wanted to look everywhere but him. Being pulled into the spell woven by the festivities of the day, being lured by the nearness of him and the intensity in his gaze; she wanted nothing to do with any of it.

  Benton’s voice broke the silence. “You can change on the plane. I’m sure Ashlyn packed you something comfortable for travel.”

  Scooting closer to the window, she pressed her elbow to the ledge and rested her cheek on her buried hand. “I wish I knew how long the flight was going to be.”

  The click of a bottle opening pulled her attention back to him. He was drinking water; she was drawn to the arch of his neck, how it flexed as he swallowed, how it tapered down to the exposed skin revealed by the first two undone buttons of his shirt. The fabric couldn’t hide the strength of his shoulders and the vest did little to erase the night she saw him nearly naked. The image of his sculpted chest singed into her brain so deeply she sometimes caught herself daydreaming about it.

  As he lowered the bottle, she quickly averted her eyes.

  “You don’t like surprises, do you?”

  She shook her head. “No, not really. But I couldn’t be rude. They went out of their way to arrange this for us, to offer us their home for our wedding...”

  He smiled at her. The potency of it, the promise behind it, punched her dead center with a merciless fist of lust so thick it temporarily robbed her of her breath. No one could accuse Benton of being hard on the eyes; but when he smiled, it transformed his features in a way that made him far too tempting. She knew if she saw it, so did other women. And that thought left her cold with its implications; so much so that she gripped the edges of the seat to keep from claiming him as hers.

  They might be married, but she didn’t own him. They both made it clear how this union would go, and she knew she couldn’t change that now. They stood to lose too much if they stepped off that cliff. But she wanted to, and in wanting to, she struggled with a new kind of fear. How could it be she never wanted him as much as in this moment? Marriage couldn’t possible make that much of a difference.

  Benton leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The intensity in his gaze tore into her, reaching beneath the layers of clothing and scorching her skin. Andrea suddenly imagined his hands there, his mouth branding what his fingers didn’t. The distance between them seemed less and the temperature in the space hotter. Her dress felt restrictive, impeding her breathing, and she pressed her knees together as if the act would stem the heat pooling there.

  Benton’s fist tightened around the water bottle, the sharp crackle of giving plastic causing her to flinch. “You need to stop looking at me like that.”

  “I...” She didn’t know how. She bit her lip, wanting to tear her eyes away, but unable to escape the force of him.

  He swore under his breath, tossed the water bottle on the seat and reached for her all in one smooth move that had her in his lap with his lips covering hers in a single breath. Opening like a flower under his demands, she wound her arms around his neck and plunged her fingers into the back of his hair. His tongue stroked her own, tasting of champagn
e and Benton, and she couldn’t stop the moan that rose from deep inside.

  He cursed again, dropping his lips to her neck as her head fell back and allowed him access. His breath against the delicate skin left her shivering. When he replaced his lips with his tongue, drawing a wet path to her ear, where he gently bit and simultaneously soothed, she gripped his shoulders as if she would fall without the anchor. He pulled his teeth across her shoulder, the movement surprisingly arousing. But when his fingers closed around her exposed calve, she jerked, the muscles on the insides of her thighs quivering in anticipation.

  No man had ever driven her to such heights with a simple touch or caress of his eyes. She felt lost amid a storm, helpless to do anything but hold on and pray she survived in the aftermath. It scared her beyond anything she could ever remember. She wanted to pull away and run to the farthest corner of the Earth, where he couldn’t strip her guard and leave her in pieces.

  His hand rose higher, featherlight against her thigh. He drew his thumb beneath the lace at the top of her nylon and growled incoherently against the hollow of her throat. Higher still, he slid up the elastic of her garter until he teased the edge of her panties. Her traitorous body shook. When his hand around her waist pulled the skirts of her gown aside, she couldn’t find it in herself to fight the palm on the inside of her thigh, spreading her legs farther apart.

  Unmoving, he left his hand there as if allowing her to adjust and lifted his head. “Look at me.”

  Not realizing she had closed her eyes, Andrea did as he commanded. The look of pleasure on his face warred with one of pain, but she had never seen those gray eyes blazing so fiercely, so open with the emotion he was feeling in the moment.

  His fingers left her thigh, slipping beneath the lace between her thighs.

  “Bent-”

  He drew a thumb across her already slick center. Her head fell back on a whimper and her body rose, pressing into his hand. Her chest felt so tight she couldn’t draw a breath. It was as if her lungs were on fire and nothing could ease the burn.

  “I want to see your face.”

  Struggling against the haze of pleasure, she shook her head and forced herself to lock eyes with him. He stroked her again, parting her folds as he sought out his prize. Nearly undone, she felt another moan rip from her as his thumb drew slow, torturous circles. Mouth slack, face hot with desire, she panted out a breath and bit her lip as he slipped a finger inside of her.

  Her head felt heavy. It started to drift forward, as the sensations built, driving her to the height of pleasure. She could only think of falling now, of coming undone beneath his hand.

  “No.” He stopped. “Look at me.”

  “Please,” she whimpered, not recognizing her own voice.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured, and those eyes held her prisoner as he tipped her over the edge. She shuddered beneath his hand, entire body stiffening as the sensations ripped through her, before she went slack against him.

  The car slowed to a stop, bringing her back to reality. Mortified she had lost herself in the back of a limousine when Ryan sat on the other side of a thin glass, she scrambled away from Benton. Struggling to right her dress, she blinked back tears and felt her face burning with shame.

  “Andrea.”

  Benton’s hands were gentle as he helped her untangle herself. She refused to look at him.

  “Baby.”

  She shook her head furiously. “No. Please don’t say anything.”

  Dragging a hand through his hair, Benton sighed, but he did as she asked. The door to the limousine opened, showing Ryan on the other side. If he noticed anything strange, his facial expression didn’t show it.

  “I’ll get your bags if you want to head toward the plane.”

  As if shot from a pistol, Andrea hurried out of the car and made the plane her sole focus. With his long strides, Benton easily caught up with her. She refused to look at him, unable to believe she had allowed what had taken place in the car. Was her resolve so weak? Hadn’t she had countless talks with herself reminding her that only pain could come of giving in to their attraction?

  Lord only knew what Benton thought. He had to think she kept sending mixed signals, and even she knew it was difficult for a man to keep up with a woman who couldn’t even make up her own mind. While her mind might be back in the right place now, her body certainly wasn’t. Her legs felt like her muscles turned to liquid and it amazed her she could walk in heels.

  Once inside the plane, she thanked Ryan and shut herself in the small cabin with its single bed. Stripping out of her dress proved to be a struggle, but she wasn’t going to ask Benton for help. As she pulled a simple white dress from her suitcase, she avoided the mirror, not ready to look herself in the face.

  Staring at the wedding gown lying on the bed, she felt a wave of regret wash over her. If only everything were simple, if only that white dress meant more than a costume for this charade. But this wasn’t a real marriage and she had better sense than to get caught up in disappointment over an unchangeable fact.

  Pressing her hands to her stomach as if it would still the fluttering there that wouldn’t go away, she closed her eyes and tried not to think of Benton’s hands on her or how he had given her the best orgasm of her life without even having sex with her. What did it say of her choice in men that a single moment in the back of a limousine could wipe out every other sexual encounter?

  “What are you doing?” She asked of herself, sinking onto the bed, not caring if she wrinkled her dress. It likely wouldn’t be her only wedding dress anyway, and that thought only made the situation seem bleaker.

  A part of her wanted to give way to recklessness. She knew what happened between them was only a hint at what the passion would be like. If she were another woman, she could enjoy what he had to offer and leave it at that when the marriage ended. But she couldn’t offer her body without fearing for her heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  If there was one thing Benton had learned from his time in the Rangers, it was patience and discipline. He was going to need both when it came to Andrea. Every time he thought he made progress, she proved him wrong by pulling away. The woman was as elusive as smoke, tangible up close, but easily slipping through his fingers. Chasing her felt like battling the wind as it pushed the smoke along, until finally, it became nothing more than a whisper, leaving you wondering if it was ever there at all.

  In the back of that limousine, she came alive under his hands, abandoning reason for pleasure. He could still see her face when she climaxed; that wanton freedom in her eyes. He wanted to see that face when she was beneath him. The woman turned him on like no other. He couldn’t remember a time he wanted someone more. While he always found her attractive, spending more time around her these few weeks took it beyond the physical.

  Benton was used to fighting for what he wanted. But unlike some, he knew the value of pacing, of waiting until the moment to step in presented itself. From his childhood, to war, to Andrea -- the tactics hadn’t changed. He knew she wasn’t immune to him. Andrea would only be able to resist what she felt for so long, but he wouldn’t push her.

  Glancing behind him at the entrance to the cabin, he wondered when she would come out. Right now, she was hiding, using the door as a barrier between them. But memory was stronger than the piece of wood ever could be, and physical obstacles wouldn’t guard against feelings.

  As if reading his mind, the door opened and Andrea slowly came out. She had changed into a simple dress, but the way it hugged her body reminded him of every time he had touched her. It reminded other parts of his anatomy too, and he had to glance away to regain some control.

  She took the seat across from him. “I thought you might spend the whole flight in there.”

  “I thought about it.”

  He liked her honesty. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  Her lips compressed. “Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Their attendant chose thi
s time to make her presence known, so he let it drop for now. She was a sleek, blonde thing, put together perfectly in her pressed dress suit and matching heels. Her smile lacked warmth, projecting professionalism instead. He found he liked the spicy redhead sitting across from him much more.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Grant, can I get you anything? Refreshments?”

  He shook his head while Andrea politely declined with words. If the shock of her new last name being spoken aloud startled her, she didn’t show it.

  “May I suggest you buckle now? The pilot is nearly ready to take off.”

  Both did as they were asked, and the attendant went to her seat in the back of the plane. Benton thought it looked more like the inside of a living room than a plane. Between the four seats, a couch sat, and across from it, a mini-bar. A slit between his and Andrea’s chairs held a table they could pull out once the plane took off. Deacon knew how to travel in luxury, for certain. It amused him to compare it to the cargo planes he and his Rangers flew in. Had anyone told him he would be sitting here five years ago he would have given them the bird.