I snort a laugh. “She probably needs a break from seeing your grumpy ass every day.”
Ben glares. “I’m not grumpy. It’s called running a business.”
I roll my eyes. “You are totally grumpy. That day I ran into you during your meeting, you were all growly. If I were working for you, I would’ve quit after the first day.”
Ben stalks forward, and shocking the hell out of me, he scoops me into his arms bridal style, walking us back to my bed. “I bet I could convince you to stay.” He sets me down and crawls over me, his muscular arms framing my head.
“And how would you do that?” I breathe.
“I can be very persuasive.” He drops a kiss to the side of my neck.
“Oh, really?” I turn my face to the side, giving him access. “And what would you do to persuade me?”
He runs his tongue across my pulse point, then nibbles playfully on the skin above my collarbone. “For starters, I would buy you coffee. The vanilla latte mocha frappe shit you love.”
I bark out a laugh. “Oh, baby. Coffee is the key to my heart.” I flutter my lashes dramatically. “What else?”
“That lemon pound cake crap you love…The one with the frosting on the top… I’d buy you an entire loaf.”
“Mmm…now we’re talking. Tell me more,” I say as butterflies flutter in my chest over the fact that while he’s joking around, he knows exactly what I eat and drink—because he pays attention.
Ben kisses his way along my jaw, stopping at the tip of my chin and nipping at it. “I would bring you lunch every day, alternating between Italian, Thai, and the sub shop since those are your favorites.” He sucks on my bottom lip. “And for dessert, I’d give you… me.”
His lips brush against mine in a soft, sensual way… and then my stomach growls, making both of us laugh.
He pulls back, holding himself up so none of his weight is on me. “You stay here, and I’ll go get us coffee and breakfast.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him, not wanting him to miss an entire day of work because of me.
“I want to.” He kisses me again before he climbs off the bed. “Besides, I already told Lenora I was taking the day off… Don’t want to disappoint her.”
A half an hour later, he returns with a carrier filled with coffees, orange juice, and water. “I know you love coffee, but you also need water to stay hydrated, and orange juice is good for you.” He sets it on the nightstand, then starts pulling stuff out of the bag he’s carrying. He produces an entire loaf of lemon pound cake, a box of Godiva chocolate, and a bottle of pills—specific for menstrual cramps. My heart soars at his thoughtfulness.
“Thank you.”
He nods and kicks off his shoes, and it’s then I notice he’s no longer in his business suit but in a pair of gray sweats and a T-shirt. He must’ve stopped by his place to change. He climbs over me, onto the bed, and rests his back against the headboard. “So, what are we watching?”
I hand him his coffee and click on Netflix. “Only one of the best shows ever…”
At some point, during the third… maybe fourth episode of Hart of Dixie, I must conk out because sometime later, I wake up to Ben still watching the show, only he’s a lot further along. My head is in his lap, and his fingers are combing through my hair.
“Good morning,” he says with humor laced in his tone.
I sit up next to him and grab the bottle of water to wet my parched throat. “How long was I asleep?”
“A few hours. How’re you feeling?”
“Okay… I’m sorry—”
“Stop, you have nothing to apologize for. I enjoyed watching you sleep until you shifted onto my lap. I can’t remember the last time I took the day off and relaxed. It’s been nice.”
His phone goes off with a text, and he reads it before typing out a reply. “Brody will be home soon. They’re expecting some heavy snow to come through this evening, so they canceled practice. Why don’t we go over to my place, and I’ll order dinner in for all of us?”
“That sounds good, but I need to take a shower first.” I rinsed off earlier, but I need a good scrub down and to wash my hair.
“I can get on board with that.” Ben waggles his brows playfully. He edges off the bed and pulls his shirt over his head.
“Wait, you’re joining me?”
He pauses, his shirt already off and his fingers dipped into the waistband of his pants, ready to push them down. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, I guess… but I’m on my period,” I remind him.
“So? What does that have to do with us taking a shower together?”
“Umm… Well, for one, we can’t have sex.” Which is kind of the entire purpose of our arrangement.
“We could…” he points out. “But that’s not why I want to shower with you.”
Without any further explanation, he finishes undressing and saunters into the bathroom, leaving me standing and staring at his sculpted ass and back. My God, the man is sexy.
“Sav, let’s go!”
His words snap me out of my mental drooling, and I join him in the bathroom. He already has the shower turned on, and the steam is billowing over and fogging the mirror.
As I watch him, completely naked, move around my bathroom with ease, I hold back from getting undressed, suddenly self-conscious.
When he notices, he sets the towels on the sink and stalks toward me. “Raise your arms.”
I do as he says, and my shirt comes off. Since I’m without a bra, my breasts are exposed, and despite the warm air, my nipples harden. He glances down, and a look of lust crosses his features.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, reaching for my sweats and tugging them, along with my underwear, down my legs. Once I’m naked, he kisses me softly, making me squirm under his touch.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I mutter when the kiss ends. As if he knows why, he nods and steps into the shower to give me some privacy.
After I’m done, I join him in the shower. It’s not a big area, but there’s enough room for us to fit comfortably. I stand under the spray, wetting my hair and body, and then move over to wash my hair. Before I can grab the shampoo, though, he stops me.
“Turn around,” he says, pumping some shampoo into his hands. I do as he says, and then a second later, his fingers land on my head. He massages the soap into my scalp, and it’s probably one of the best things I’ve ever felt in my life.
When I sigh into him, my back hits his front, and he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the top of my shoulder, sending a spark of desire through my body.
“Rinse,” he tells me in a soft yet demanding tone.
Once my hair is soap-free, he squirts the conditioner into my hair, then proceeds to massage my scalp all over again. My eyes close as I get lost in the relaxing feeling of his fingers. All too soon, he finishes, though, and I rinse my hair out.
As I’m reaching for the bodywash, he grabs it first, his eyes locking with mine, making his intentions clear. I consider telling him that’s too intimate, too… much, but he’s already squirting the rose-scented liquid into his palm and rubbing his hands together.