by Mj Fields
“Does the word no mean a damn thing to you?” I snap at Ben.
“I prefer yes, little Ross. Let’s jet.”
I snap, “Alex—”
“Not my business till it needs to be. Bring me back a burger?”
“No!”
“Sure thing,” Ben says with a smirk. “Let’s go.”
“N. O.” I glare at him.
12
Every Rose Has Its Thorn
Ben
Nothing like taking an opportunity when it’s available.
As she’s about to spout off at the mouth to Alex, I scoop her feisty ass up, toss her over my shoulder, and take three really fast, really long strides toward the door before she registers what exactly is going on.
I learn really quick that she’s more of a fighter than I expected, which makes me laugh as I wrap my hand around her ankles just as she is about to kick me … again.
“Alex! What the fuck? Ben, put me down or I’ll kick your ass!”
“After we talk, if you still feel like kicking my ass instead of your own, I’ll give you three free punches.” I open the door of the truck and drop her ass onto the passenger seat. She lunges forward. “You gonna give me the opportunity to explain, or are you—”
“I’m not stupid, Ben Sawyer,” she snaps.
“Never thought you were, but ignorance is not bliss, and you being uninformed is something you and I will hash out after you give me a few minutes to—”
Two hands to my chest and she shoves me. I … almost budge.
“Left the church, got a phone call, packed some shit, headed home.”
She scowls.
“Been a real rough few weeks, Kendall, and you and I aren’t gonna be that couple who doesn’t fucking communicate, so you’re gonna need to answer your damn phone and texts, you got it?”
“Who the hell do you think—”
“Dad got hurt, Kendall. Had you not blown me off, this little shitshow wouldn’t be happening and you and I would be kissing and shit instead of fighting, because you’re choosing to be stupid and uniformed.”
She doesn’t say a damn thing.
“Let me ask you a question.”
She looks down.
“Did you come to my place that night?”
She closes her eyes.
“I was gonna cook you dinner, kiss those pretty lips, and I wish I could’ve done just that. You showed up, though, you did, and I wish I could tell you that I’ll never have something important come up unexpectedly that takes me away from plans with you, but I don’t want to ever break a promise to you.”
Her eyes begin to shine, and her lips tremble.
I take her hands and link my fingers between them. “Been a rough few weeks, Kendall. I made you dinner—lunch, actually—but I’ll make you dinner tonight, if you’ll let me.”
She doesn’t let go of my hands, but it takes her a minute to look up at me. She searches my eyes then nods. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” I smile, let go of her hands, and hug her. “Christ, you smell good. Like Kendall, and Eau de pond water.”
“Ben?”
“Kendall?”
“What happened to your dad?”
“He …” I pause as I consider how to answer the question carefully. “He broke his arm. Needs help, so I’m back for a while.”
She leans back, her eyes finally soft and so are her words. “What about the band?”
Forcing a smile, I answer, “Finishing up the album through email.”
She looks at me deeply, penetratingly so, like she’s trying to fill in a blank.
“It’s all good, sweets.”
Still searching my eyes, she gives me a slow nod then looks down.
I decide to change the subject. “When you said half-naked whore—”
“I don’t like her.” She looks back up at me and huffs, “And she doesn’t like me either.”
“Tell me what happened. I’ll take care of it.”
“Are you going back soon?” Her voice is nearly an octave higher. It obviously bothers her.
“Tell me what happened.”
“Forget it. Just tell me about Frank.”
Pushing her hair back from her eyes, I lift her chin. “Can we just go sit in the middle of a bunch of kids with water balloons, nerf guns, throwing balls, laughing, and loving the summer, who don’t know a damn thing about half-naked whores, missing out on a vacation, hurt parents, or near heartbreaks?”
Her bottom lip pouts out just a bit, and she nods. Then she swings her legs inside the truck, and I shut the door behind her before I run around and get in.
When my ass hits the driver’s seat, I immediately think that seeing me made her this wet, though I know it’s just the fact that she dove in the water to save a dog. Instead of asking her, I play it safe.
“Think we should change first?”
She looks down, and the corner of her lips twitch upward. “Might be a good idea.”
“You still staying at your parents’ or here?”
She eyes me suspiciously as I start my truck.
“Made it my business to know you were okay since you weren’t taking my calls, text, emails—”
“Some call that stalking,” she says dryly.
“Well, Kendall Ross, I hereby give you permission—hell, I’m just two bended knees away from begging you—to stalk the shit out of me.”
She fights a smile. “I have clothes in my truck.”
“Perfect.”
I pat the dashboard. “I’ll be sweet to you, Rosie, unlike her.”
“Rosie?” She chuckles.
“Aside from stalking you, I’ve become slightly obsessed with roses.”
Pulling out onto the road, I notice her sitting as far away from me as she possibly can and nearly sinking into herself.
“I think I prefer you giving me hell over looking like you’re two seconds from diving out of a moving truck.”
She looks at me from the corner of her eye.
“Same guy I was in Dublin, little Ross.”
“I have no doubt,” she says as she looks out the window.
I don’t like the way she said that, or that she’s not looking at me like she did at Christ Church Cathedral.
Honestly, there isn’t much I do like these past few weeks, but she was the one thing I had to look forward to, and I’m going to make damn sure I don’t leave Blue Valley without the same damn feeling I left the church with.
I reach over and run my fingertips over the back of her clasped hands then take one in mine. Relief sweeps through me when she doesn’t fight it, and I feel like I can breathe for the first time since that day.
As we pull up to the gate, I let go of Kendall’s soft, warm hand, reach over, and open the glove box, pulling out the parking tag and hanging it over the mirror.
When we pull up to the small building and come to a stop, the park attendant smiles. “You again.”
I wink at the woman who is in her early sixties. “You’re gonna see my mug all weekend.”
“Not a difficult task, Ben Sawyer.” She waves us by. “Have a great time.”
As we head toward my campsite, I look over at Kendall.
“You wanna stay wet?”
“What?” she half-laughs, half-gasps.
“While we eat?” I try not to smile.
“No, I prefer dry.” She rolls her eyes.
“I think once you’ve experienced a meal wet, you—”
She smacks me, and I catch her hand, holding it to my lips and inhaling the scent of her skin.
“It’s called damp dog.”
I run my nose across her hand, inhaling while I kiss it over and over again and holding it firmly in place before I say, “Damp my ass. That thing was wet.”
I expect a reaction. What I get is a belly laugh. I secretly thank God for it.
I drop her off at her truck and give her my campsite number. She tells me that she’s going to change in the bathroom inside the pavilion, and I actually ha
ve to force myself to pull away and trust that she’s not going to run. Why? Because, after at least a hundred unreturned calls and texts, if I chased her down and took her back home to Watkins, the digital evidence against me would land my ass directly in jail, and then I wouldn’t be able to win the girl, the girl who, even though I mistook for her sister, has been in my thoughts and heart for so many years.
“Get your shit together,” I scold myself as I throw Rosie in drive.
Back at the campsite, I hurry inside the little cabin and change my clothes. I have no clue what to wear, I think as I rummage through the duffle bag that is packed pretty fucking full for a dude just staying for a long weekend, before heading back home.
I step out of my moist shorts and boxer briefs and into a pair of army green cargo shorts. Then I pull my shirt off.
“Stop being such a little bitch,” I mumble as I pull up my shorts.
“Hope you’re not talking to me like that.”
I turn to see Kendall scowling slightly in the open doorway then laugh and step toward her.
She steps back and looks down for a split-second. “May want to button up.”
I shrug. “First, I wasn’t talking about you like that. Never will.” I toss my thumb over my shoulder. “I think I brought more clothes for this little trip than I did when I left to go overseas, so I’m the little bitch I was referring to. But you’re making me that way. Second, I know you have a moral compass as big as the moon, and I won’t pressure you into a damn thing, Kendall, but the way you look at me, the way you kiss me, the way I feel about you—”
“Ben,” she whispers when I take her hands and pull her toward me, “I’m not ready for—”
Nothing I can do to stop myself from kissing her, and she doesn’t stop me from doing it either.
Her lips are so soft, her breath hot, and her mouth tastes like cinnamon. With my tongue, I caress the inside of her mouth the way I want to taste her insides.
A strangled moan escapes her mouth and into mine, and I grip the back of her head and tilt it, wanting deeper inside her, wherever the fuck she will let me in.
She moves her fingertips up my sides, and I groan when they flit across my abs. When I feel her tug at my waistband, I nearly fucking die. When she buttons my pants, I laugh into her mouth, and she pulls back.
Forehead to forehead, we laugh, and even though this didn’t lead where I thought it was, it feels pretty damn good.
“Hungry?” I ask, rubbing my nose across hers.
“Starving,” she whispers, glancing quickly from my lips to my eyes.
“Jesus, Kendall.” I step back, and she looks down.
She clears her throat. “For food.”
“Yeah.” I run my hand through my hair. “For food.”
She sighs and steps back, shaking her head. Then she parts her pretty lips, and I know she’s going to try to dissuade this—us—from happening.
“I won’t fuck you, which goes against everything both our bodies and minds are craving. Won’t even try. But don’t you run from this.”
“I’m not running. I’m being reasonable.”
I take her hand and pull her outside. “See that tree?”
She looks over then back at me, clearly confused.
“It grew straight up, not sideways, not in a circle.”
“Because that’s what trees do,” she says sarcastically.
“Agreed.” I drop her hand, and I walk over and grab the picnic basket from the back of my truck. Then I walk back and set it on the bench, where I open it and pull out the red and white checkered blanket. I shake it out and drape it over the table. “Because that’s its natural instinct. You don’t go against nature, Kendall.”
“We’re humans, not animals or—”
“I have an animalistic desire to fuck you.”
She gasps at my word choice.
“And I will … when you’re ready. The greater need is to do it on the daily, maybe two or three times a day.”
“Ben! Really?”
“Yep.” I pull out a mason jar and set it down on the table. Then I move around the table where she is standing, jaw nearly on the floor. I grip her hips and smile down at her. “We’re going to be unstoppable, Kendall, and not just in bed but in life.”
She looks like a deer in headlights.
“When I’m with you, I don’t just get incredibly turned on, undeniably hard; I get something I’ve never gotten in my life off stage and not with any woman in the world. I get that same fucking rush of adrenaline, and it’s fast becoming an addiction.”
She bites the corner of her plump lower lip, and her eyes widen. Never seen eyes smile so brightly.
“I know we’re going in two different directions most of the time, both chasing our dreams, mine already partially captured, yours well underway, but I’m home now, Kendall.” I squeeze her a bit tighter. “And I want to see this through.”
“What about the band?” she whispers.
“You mean, what about Marna?”
13
What You Give
Kendall
The way he says her name isn’t with disdain, per se, but it isn’t with any type of longing, either. And it’s definitely not the way he says my name or the different variations he uses toward me.
I’m home now, Kendall, was said with longing. Little Ross and sweets, when he’s being playful, sexual, or trying to piss me off. It’s odd how he seems to get joy out of pissing me off, but it’s also kind of … a turn-on.
“She’s a Murphey. She’s managed her brothers’ band for a while. Now that they’re signed, she’s not gonna play as big a role in what comes next for them.”
She’s a Murphey!
Clearly, he notices how much that bothers me and motions for me to sit, then begins unstrapping the plates from the lid of the wicker basket as he continues.
“Aedan and the rest of the band seem to think they can’t do it without me, so I have three more songs to finish, a few play-throughs with them, and then I’m done. I’d be done now, but I signed a contract; gave my word.”
Shirtless Ben Sawyer say what? No, like really, I know what he said, but none of it is registering when Ben Sawyer is shirtless and pulling glass mason jars with homecooked food out of a wicker picnic basket and placing them on a checkered tablecloth, clearly to share with me. It’s thoughtful and sweet.
He sits down, straddling the bench beside me, and all I can think about is how he’s commando under those loose hanging shorts.
“Little Ross?”
I open my eyes to see him smirking.
“Do you know how hot we’re going to be?”
“Of course I do.” I roll my eyes.
When he laughs, I realize what the hell it was I just said and palm my face.
“Glad to hear it. We’re also kind of taboo, you know.”
“Sister’s ex—”
“Brother and sister.” He winks as he opens one of the jars. “I’m not sure I should be telling you this. I mean, you did just agree to us for the third time and—”
“I never—”
I stop when he shovels a huge spoonful of Jell-O salad into my mouth, and then I smile, enjoying my absolute favorite Sawyer family dish.
“If you moan like that tasting Mom’s Jell-O, imagine how you’re going to feel when I put my di—”
I smack his bare abs, and he smirks.
“I like the way you think, little Ross, but I was talking about my meat, the kind in the jar, not my pants.”
I smack him again. Then, well, then I kiss him.
When we both can barely breathe, he slowly pulls back, and I allow myself to let my hands run down his ridiculously toned abs to rest them on his hips.
His lips turn up as he slowly opens his eyes. “I like it.”
I smile back at him.
“Kissing my god-sister is hot.”
“Didn’t know I had godparents,” I say as I scoop a spoonful of my favorite Jell-O salad.
He opens h
is mouth, and I hold it out for him. When he leans in, I pull it back and shove it in my own mouth.
“That’s how this is gonna go, huh?”
I see him eye the jar and snatch it as I jump up and try to get away.
He wraps his long arm around me and pulls me back so that I end up on his lap.
“Just a taste?” he says, resting his chin on my shoulder.
“We’re at the every-man-for-himself part of our relationship, Sawyer.” I start to stand, and he again pulls me back.
“Is that so?”
I scoop another heaping spoonful out of the jar and shove it in my mouth. Then, in the most unladylike manner, I speak with my mouth full, “Uh-huh. I mean, I could wait with you but still indulge until, ya know—”
“Wait. Indulge with …” He pauses, and I look at him from out of the corner of my eye as I shove another spoonful in my already full mouth. “You thought wait with you meant …” He pauses again. “You been seeing other guys?”
I huff and look away.
“You didn’t think I’d be cool with you seeing other people, did ya?”
“You didn’t think I’d be cool with you playing with girls like Marna until—”
“No way in hell!” He scowls.
I scowl back at him.
“You’re frustrating as fuck, Kendall.”
“You should talk.” I lean forward, and this time, he lets me go.
He sighs. “I’m thinking we’re on a different page. Fuck, maybe even a totally different book.”
Suddenly, I don’t want to wolf down the entire jar of Jell-O salad.
“Can’t believe you thought—”
“Your words, Ben, not mine.”
“Maybe ask for clarification? No, fuck that. Do you really think I’d do you like that?”
“Well, technically, you wouldn’t be doing me at all.”
“Pretty sure I made it clear I’m willing to wait with …” He stops. “For you? How is that any better a term?”
I shrug, and he stands up.
“I don’t play games, Kendall. When I want something, I go after it. And I want you and no one else.”
“What happens when you get sick of … you know?”