As much as I adore him, I am aware that “forever” and Benjamin Owen don’t mix. He’s a busy workaholic with a focus on financial wizardry. I’m the woman he hired to make sure he takes his vitamins and remembers to exercise his (incredibly fine) body. I’m also his friend. As his friend, I’d never ask him for more than he’s willing to commit.
As fun as our little excursion has been and probably will be, once I bequeath my virginity to him—I’d be insane to say no—he’ll cease seeing me as a dating option. New rules will have to be made. My duty is to take what I want, but not to involve my feelings. I can’t take another gut-punch scenario like the morning I spotted him hugging Trish at Grand Marin.
No matter what, I have to let Benji be Benji. He grows tired of every woman he dates—I’ve watched it happen from both afar and up close—and I won’t be an exception. Hell, his laissez-faire attitude toward commitment was one of the foundations on which we built this agreement.
I walk into the kitchen, notice his water bottle on the counter, and shake my head. I know he’s done a hard workout because he’s been down there for nearly an hour. This is why he needs me in his life. He’s too scatterbrained and distracted to take care of himself.
In the gym I spot a discarded towel thrown over the weight bench and hear the water pounding the wall in the attached shower. I set the water bottle on the bench and open my mouth to tell him he’s welcome and I deserve a raise when I catch a blurry image of him through the glass shower wall.
A breath stutters from my lips.
He’s naked, obviously, in the amazing stone-walled shower. His round ass is visible without obstruction, but the front half of his body is blurred by partially steamed glass.
One of his arms is anchored to the wall, his head down as the spray beats the back of his head. Below the neck is a tantalizing, wavy view of his naked chest and, where the steam is most prevalently blocking my view, I notice his arm moving at a dizzying speed, his hand fisted around his—
I slap my hand over my mouth. I fully intend to dart out of sight behind the wall but remain frozen in place, mesmerized by what he’s doing and how beautiful he looks while doing it. He lets out a grunt I hear over the pounding spray and then tilts his face into the water. Droplets hammer his cheeks. His movements below the waist increase in both speed and ferocity.
My breasts grow heavy, my belly drops, and I become aware of a throbbing heat between my thighs. I spin around to leave—I have no prayer of concentrating now—when I hear him call my name.
Praying he didn’t catch me ogling him during an intensely private moment, I shield my eyes with one hand and call out, “It’s just me. I left your water bottle on the bench!”
No return greeting comes. I peek through my fingers to find his head poking around the stone wall. His hair is dripping, his eyelashes are spiked and wet, his mouth is smiling. His bare shoulder and buff chest are dotted with water. He’s an undeniably sexy sight. I might come in my panties without him touching me.
“Get your ass over here.”
They’re the most erotic words I’ve heard in my life. Helpless, I drift into the steamy room, and when I’m within arm’s reach I say the only thing I can think of. “Did you need a towel?”
“I need a hand. Care to help me out?”
My lashes flutter as I try to process.
“And I don’t mean I want you to wash my back.” That grin again. It’s going to be the death of me. “You get in, you’ll be glad you did. I have some fun planned for you too.”
He steps into the spray again and his, “Hurry up!” echoes off the walls. Before I can reason my way out of what I’m doing, I shakily strip out of my clothes and join him.
Chapter Thirteen
Cris
Arms hiding my breasts, I step deeper into the shower with a completely nude, completely wet, completely buff Benji.
Hard bumps of muscle stretch his taut skin. From his back to his arms to his chest to his abs to his fantastic butt. His legs are strong and long. He has nice feet. I’ve seen them before, but never with the rest of his naked body. It’s an entirely new experience.
“How was your workout?” As icebreakers go, it’s a lame one, but he doesn’t take me to task for my inquiry. He reaches for my hips and tugs me under the warm water. The showerhead is high on the wall. I’ve always loved this shower. I’ve always wanted to use it, but on the days I worked out here, I made sure to do so in the evening and then went straight home to shower. Being naked in Benji’s space seemed awkward before. I don’t feel awkward now, which is unbelievable. Or maybe it’s a testament to how easy it is for him to help me relax.
“It was good. Exhausting. But didn’t keep you off my mind, which is why you saw me in here trying to divest myself of my current…situation.”
I hazard a glance down at his “situation.” His penis is standing straight and proud between us. One word flits through my addled brain: mouthwatering. Granted, I’ve never had a penis in my mouth before, but it wouldn’t take much for me to offer to go down on him. I am not typically plagued with thoughts of blowjobs, but I am curious to learn what he tastes like.
Heaven, I imagine.
“You’re not helping,” he rumbles, his voice tortured and low and lined with his ever-present amusement. His joy has always been my kryptonite. How anyone maintains happiness after losing what he’s lost and starting over at such a young age is beyond me. Money may solve a lot of problems, but it can’t replace a loving family.
“Are you uncomfortable?” He traces one of my forearms, still crossed over my breasts.
“I’m curious. I want to touch you.”
His grin widens.
“I also want to kiss you. Down there,” I finish on a whisper.
His smile is gone, his grip on my arm tight. “That’s not why I asked you in here, Cris. You’re supposed to be learning how to take. How to accept what you deserve. Find out what you’ve been missing.”
“That is something I’ve been missing. I just didn’t realize it until now.”
He presses my back against the cool, slate blue shower tiles. His body is lined up against mine, every hard, wet plane, including the several inches jutting from between his legs now nestled at my middle. It’s as unyielding as the rest of him.
I take his tongue on mine, giving in to the urge to make out with him while hot water pounds his back and steam rises around us. The deep exploration of our mouths is as amazing as everything else we do together. No surprise there. My body is humming in anticipation. I know what he’s capable of with his mouth. I’m curious what I can accomplish with mine.
“I can’t let you do it,” he says between kisses. “Fuck, but I want to.”
I love how desperate he sounds.
“Let me,” I beg.
“No.” The word comes from between clenched teeth.
I reach between our bodies and palm his length, my grip slippery. “Please.”
His eyes open lazily, but the rest of him is strung taut. “Cris, this isn’t the way I planned—”
I press my finger to his mouth to stop the words trying to come out. I trust him. He should trust me. It’s in the unwritten best-friend codebook.
“I want to.” I run my finger down his chin to his neck and chest and finally drag it along his stomach. I stroke his cock and watch my own movements, the way the water trickles over the inches of him embraced by my curled fingers. I am nothing short of delighted when I notice he’s watching too.
His hands were gripping my elbows but they loosen, giving me permission to explore him further. I don’t hesitate. I lower to my knees on the tile floor, the water blocked by his body. Rivulets form a Y and pour off his chin, run down his chest and legs. I like how he watches me. I watched him go down on me. I remember how turned on I was.
I lick the tip of his cock, which is velvet soft. A tight hiss of air escapes from between his teeth. I close my lips over the head and he moans. Oh, yes. This is going to be fun. Now I know why he lo
oked so damned pleased with himself when he went down on me. I feel powerful enough to conquer the world.
I set my pace to stun, licking and sucking with renewed fervor. I experiment with swirling my tongue over the head, running it along his length, and cupping his balls in my hand. So into what I’m doing and the heavy feel of him taking up my mouth, I barely hear him over the spray when he commands me to stop.
He doesn’t say it again. He hoists me to my feet and plunders my mouth with his tongue, and then reroutes my hand and motions for me to stroke him. As I do, he dips his fingers into my heat, finding me warm and wet. What I was doing didn’t only turn him on. I’m right there with him. He maneuvers us out of the shower spray and we continue stroking each other.
“Dammit, Cris, come,” he growls into my mouth. “I’m dying here.”
On his command, an orgasm stampedes through my body, leaving wreckage in its wake. I drop my head back against the tile, squirming against his magic fingers. I remember at the last minute to watch as I stroke him to completion. Making sure to absorb the awed expression on his face, the way his eyebrows pucker. He bares his teeth and his eyes squeeze closed like he can’t take another moment of pleasure. He’s never been more attractive. A low groan echoes from his throat and then spills into my mouth when he kisses me. His hands go to my back and he pulls me close, every inch of our bodies stuck together beneath the warm water for several heart-pounding moments.
“How’d I do?” It’s as easy to smile at my best friend as it is to tease him. I already know how I did. A-plus.
His grin is sated and slightly dopey. “That was so much better than me taking care of myself. I’m glad you came to check on me.”
Then he rears his head back to look at me, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You heard the shower. You knew I was in here, didn’t you? You looked anyway, knowing what you’d see.”
“I didn’t know I would see that.”
“No, but you hoped you would.”
My cheeks grow warm.
“Naughty girl. You keep this side of you well hidden, don’t you?”
I like being accused of being naughty way too much. I never thought of myself as anywhere near naughty. It’s exciting. Invigorating. He’s giving me an opportunity to explore another side of myself—the side that embraces being sexually satisfied as well as yearns to sexually satisfy him.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“I believe thanks is owed to you, Firecracker.” He pushes a few damp, limp curls away from my face. “If I knew how good you were at that, I wouldn’t have argued with you about you doing it.”
“Well, it was my first time. I’m sure I can improve.”
“I sure as hell would like to see you try.” His devious smile brightens. “I like being your first in so many things.”
“You would.” I quirk my lips. “Your ego.”
“It’s not about ego. I mean, okay, it’s a little about ego,” he amends. “But it’s mostly about you. I like knowing I can deliver firsts you won’t regret later. You won’t, right? That’s a requirement for this arrangement.”
I nod exuberantly and hope it hides my distaste for the word “arrangement.” It sounds so impersonal and, as I’m learning, everything between us ends up feeling personal. But I’m completely capable of compartmentalizing, or so I have to keep reminding myself.
I totally have this.
“No regrets on my end,” I say, feigning confidence. “This is different and unexpected, but we’ve figured out how to do things together before. Like when we were making the team schedule and two employees had too many hours. We didn’t know at first prioritizing tasks based on each individual’s strengths was going to be the key to… Why are you grinning?”
“You’re so fucking cute. I always knew you were. I always saw it. Maybe it’s your nakedness”—he runs his hands over my breasts and around to my back again—“but it’s painfully obvious how fucking cute you are now.”
“I’m talking about staff and scheduling. How can I be cute?”
“You’re naked and talking about staff and scheduling after sucking me and tongue-fucking me. That makes you cute and hot.”
Now my cheeks are burning. With an airy laugh, I ask, “Do I want to know what else you’re thinking?”
“Definitely not. My mind has traveled down an unbeaten path. There are some visuals along the way that violate decency laws in at least four states.”
I hug his neck to bring his lips closer to mine. “Sounds tempting.”
“One step at a time, Firecracker.” He’s adorable and sexy, and suddenly I understand what he means about me being cute and hot. I never imagined he would be as attracted to me as I was to him. It’s jarring, and sort of throwing me.
I smile instead of letting him know I’m thrown. I’m working my way down a first-time list and doing pretty damn well, if you ask me. I’ve never showered with a naked man and I’ve certainly never gone down on one.
Check and check.
Out of the shower, I pull a towel off the towel warmer and snuggle the terrycloth to my nose. Benji grabs his towel and swipes it efficiently along his limbs, down both arms, down his legs, and over the part of him I just had in my mouth. When he turns, his back is speckled with water. I towel him off, being sure to dry his fabulous ass while I’m at it.
He turns and snatches the towel from my hand. “Taking care of me as usual. You have to learn to think of yourself first.”
He dries me next, spending more time than is necessary on my breasts. Finally, I’m dried to his satisfaction.
“I hate to say this but you should get dressed,” he says. “I’m starving. I can pick up dinner if you tell me what you want. Or we can go out.”
“I have chicken thawing in the refrigerator at home, pre-chopped green peppers and onions at the ready. I’m making fajitas.” I lick my lips, feeling as if I’m breaking a rule that didn’t exist until now. “Do you…want to come over?”
“Yeah. Hell yeah.” He gives me a quick kiss, one he didn’t have to think about. I return it and I don’t think about it either. It’s natural. Easy. Just as easy and natural as us enjoying dinner together at my house.
After we eat, he announces he has to go home. When I ask if he wants to watch TV instead, he gives me the most inviting, wicked smile.
“No,” he says, hovering over my lips for a lengthy kiss. “If I stay another minute, you’ll lose your virginity tonight. And that’s not the plan.”
I’ve never been so flattered and sad at the same time as when I stand in my doorway and watch him walk to his car. He sends me a knowing smile before turning over the engine and driving down my street.
Chapter Fourteen
Cris
I’m packing my suitcase and feeling frazzled thanks to my late start this morning. The past week has been gloriously distracting, but each time I resurface from touching Benji or remembering touching Benji, I’m greeted by a glob of to-dos I worry I might’ve forgotten. Currently, I’m trying to decide on a decent dress to wear to the fundraiser dinner tomorrow night, and also trying to locate my charger for my laptop, which I’ve never ever lost.
Mid-cramming clothing, along with a few options for shoes, into my suitcase, I realize I’ll probably need a swimsuit in Florida. I sift through a dresser drawer and shove aside the sexy string bikini I bought when I purchased a tanning bed package (like, three years ago) and then hold up the scraps of material and consider taking them with me on my trip. Benji would like it.
“I borrowed your charger, by the way.” My brother Manuel appears in my bedroom doorway, cord in hand. He stopped by, having no idea I was here. It’s Friday at ten a.m.—a workday—so I normally wouldn’t be. Once he learned I was here, he decided to hang out.
“I was wondering where that was.” I swipe the cord from his hand and he, in turn, catches one of the strings of my bikini top and tugs it from my grip.
“What the hell is this?” Miniscule strips of flame-orange fabric dangle fro
m his fingers.
I snatch the top from him and cram it, along with my cord, into a corner of my suitcase. “I’m flying to Florida.”
“For a work trip.” He’s frowning. At age twelve, Manuel always wanted to know what was going on, so the fact that he’s just as nosy at age twenty-four isn’t surprising in the least.
“What else?” I answer. Before he can comment, I go on to say, “I’m putting together a care package for Timothy. I won’t have a chance to drop by the post office. Can you go for me?” I zip my suitcase but before I can haul it off the bed, my brother has it in hand and is walking down the stairs.
“Where is the package?” he asks.
“It’s not done yet. I have to add a few more snacks and tape the box closed.”
A knock at the door startles me. I’m more startled when I see it’s Benji. I glance at the wall clock. He’s early, which is good, because I am so not early.
“Hi.” I open the door.
He moves in like he might kiss me, then notices Manuel. “Oh, hey, man.”
My brother smiles. “What’s up, Benji?”
Manuel worked very briefly with Benji for a college assignment a few years ago. Some job shadow thing. Benji in my house, picking me up for a trip to Florida, doesn’t look remotely out of the norm to my brother. Nor should it. I’ve gone on trips with Benji before and have attended this fundraiser in particular for years. Though it’s usually in Ohio, not the Sunshine State.
“You might want to review the dress code with her,” my brother says as he sets my bag by the door. “She packed a bathing suit I’m not even sure you can consider a bathing suit. It’s scandalous.”
One of Benji’s eyebrows wings upward. The look he gives me says everything but “dress code.” I wonder if he’s picturing me wearing a scandalous bathing suit. We smile at each other before Manuel interrupts.
“Where’s this box?”
“One second,” I tell Benji as he lifts my suitcase by the handle. I race into the kitchen and grab a few processed, prepackaged snacks Timothy loves. I stuff a few hot chocolate packets in the box as well. I’m tearing off a sheet of paper from the magnetic pad on the fridge when my cell phone chimes.
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