I don’t get the chance to properly take him in before he steps closer. His size affords him more space in a setting like this. It’s easy for him to carve out enough room for the two of us, using his body to block me from everyone who surrounds us. His arms circle me, cocooning us as I look up at him, dragging my attention quickly across his lips before my tongue darts out to wet mine.
I hear murmurs around us. His name is on everyone’s lips, but his attention is down on me.
“You’re going to get crushed in this crowd.”
He looks devilish in this light. Haunting.
“I was holding my own,” I say, forcing my attention away from his mouth. “Besides, I was only out here because I was trying to find you.”
It’s so loud we can barely hear each other. He leans down and gathers me closer, his mouth falling right beside my ear as he says, “You’re wearing my number.”
I glance down at my shirt and feign ignorance. “Is this your number?”
He sees right through my act, and the tiny smirk he wipes away sends butterflies swarming through my belly.
There’s a mountain of history that threatens to rise between us, blocking our way forward. We have so much to talk about, to catch up on and explain. Apologies need to be made and accepted, and yet we somehow both silently agree to pivot around those hard discussions for the time being, to linger in denial for just a little while longer. I reach up to press my palms to his chest as he grips my waist. His large hands seem to fit around me so easily, his touch familiar in a way that makes my throat tighten with emotion.
“It looks good with the shorts,” he says, looking down, not the least bit shy about checking me out.
“And what do you think of my fancy club shoes?”
I tap the heels of my boots together, and he smiles.
“You look sexy as hell.”
Jesus.
Somehow I wasn’t prepared for a blatant compliment, desire spoken out loud.
It was only a few days ago that he and I were complete strangers, and now we stand chest to chest in a dark club, touching like we belong to one another.
A couple of girls laugh as they pass by and stumble into us by accident. Ben’s hand slides higher up my waist, barely underneath my crop top. His palm against my bare skin sends a shiver down my spine, and I watch him take notice. It’s like my every desire is written across my face, visible to anyone.
Can you see what you do to me, Ben?
Without asking, he slides one arm around my lower back and guides me away from the center of the party, back toward a dark corner.
“Don’t you want to say hi to your friends?” I ask as he ignores the people very obviously trying to get his attention. They tap his shoulder, shout his name, beg for attention.
“No,” he says, keeping his hands on me.
I laugh. “Not very polite of you.”
His dark eyes glint in the red light, suddenly seeming untamed.
“You shouldn’t let me touch you like this in public.”
I frown and drop my hands on top of his, making sure he doesn’t think to draw them back. “Why?”
“Have you seen who I am yet, Birdie?”
My old nickname on his lips is a gentle reminder of our history, and I can’t help but sidle up closer.
“I like you touching me.”
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows slowly.
“You might change your mind once you understand what I’ve done by coming here tonight.”
His desolate tone is enough to break my chest wide open. Why is he talking like this? Why does he sound so hopeless now that we’re back in each other’s arms?
“But I want to be here with you.”
He reaches up to trace a finger down the side of my face, then lower along my jaw and chin before he lifts it gently to my lips. I kiss it before I think better of it, and his dark eyes flare with need.
“I understood the implications, and I still came here tonight to hunt you down.”
I shake my head, confused.
“You’ll see soon. It’s already too late for us to go back to the way it was before. I didn’t have to come in here to get you. I should have waited in the car and asked Anthony to bring you out through the back entrance.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Impatience.”
He says the word like he’s in pain.
My smile fades as he bends down. “When Trey told me you were here at the club with Leanna…I lost my good sense. I raced here and came inside to get you, and the second we touched, the vultures started swarming. If you look up, you’ll see them. Your name and photo will be in the press by tomorrow morning. There’s nothing I can do to stop it now.”
I’m too entranced by his touch, his scent, his proximity to understand the consequences of what he’s saying.
“So what happens? I mean…what will they say?”
I can’t, for the life of me, draw my attention away from his mouth as he speaks.
“They’ll speculate about what we are and they’ll embellish it however much they want to better garner clicks and magazine sales. They’ll say I dragged an innocent blonde girl to a dark corner of the club and had my wicked way with her. Starting with a kiss.”
My eyebrows draw together. “But you haven’t kissed me yet.”
A smile spreads slowly, deviously across his lips as his attention shifts to my mouth. Slowly, excruciatingly, he leans down so his lips almost touch mine. My hand slides up to cradle the side of his neck, and I feel his rigid muscles tense as a soft moan escapes me.
“It doesn’t matter,” he whispers before pulling back.
I sway toward him like I’m being pulled by a magnetic force. How can he stand the hunger building between us? How can he stave it off when I’m so close to begging him here in front of everyone, all his warnings and consequences be damned?
“They’ll say I couldn’t keep my hands off you,” he says, dragging his hand up higher, just beneath the hem of my shirt. The loose crop top makes it all too easy for him. My stomach quivers as his palm covers it, and I know he feels it. My reaction to his touch is so overt and obvious.
“Haven’t you been listening? Someone could be taking a photo of us right now. School your features better if you don’t want them to see.”
“See what?” I ask, sounding dazed.
“All those feelings, Little Bird.”
My gaze meets his, and it’s a rush to see everything I’m feeling mirrored back to me.
We’re both careening off track, missing steps. There was supposed to be a nice reunion in a cafe. We were going to catch up on life. I was going to ask him what it’s like to be a father, what he loves the most about his son. I don’t know what he’s been doing since we left each other. I don’t know what he wants from me.
“Ben.”
I squeeze my eyes closed as he bends down, enveloping me. My cheek presses against his chest. My fingers dig into his shirt and I hold on like I’m about to tip back off a ledge.
“I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. No. More. Harder. He shouldn’t be apologizing. I want this too. Maybe more than he does. I rise up onto my toes and press a kiss to his cheek.
He inhales sharply and peels back from me, taking my hand and leading me out. I ask where we’re going and barely hear his response over the noise.