“I’m taking off your shirt,” he says.
I don’t even hesitate.
I don’t even hesitate?
He pulls the shirt over my head and tosses it behind him. His eyes fall to my breasts, covered with a black lace bra that I was convinced he wouldn’t see tonight. He smiles a devilish smile, running his fingertips over the lace. He cups my right breast in his hand, dragging his thumb over the fabric covering my nipple. The second he does that, I flinch, because I’ve read enough books to know that the next move is going to be touching me beneath the fabric. My entire body tenses because I don’t think I want him to remove my bra. I don’t want him to see all of me. No one has ever seen all of me.
“Baby,” he says, sliding his lips across my chest. “Relax, okay?”
I could try, but now I’m tense because he called me baby and not because he’s about to go where no one has gone before.
I’ve always found that term of endearment to be a little grating, but it so works when he says it.
I thread my fingers through the back of his hair and guide him toward my left breast, wondering how this went from zero to ten in a matter of seconds. Oh, God, he’s pulling down my bra strap. His mouth is right there, trailing over the curve of my breast and his fingers are pulling the material lower . . . lower . . . lower . . . gone.
I feel the air against my exposed breast, but my eyes are closed too tight to see the look on his face. But I can feel his lips as he kisses his way across my chest without hesitation, sliding his tongue against my skin, sucking and kissing and squeezing and . . . enjoying.
“Fallon.”
He wants me to look at him, but I’m much more comfortable with my eyes closed.
“Open your eyes, Fallon.”
I can do this.
I open my eyes and I’m staring up at the ceiling.
I can do this.
I slowly bring my gaze down until I’m looking him in the eyes. “You’re beautiful. Every inch of you is so beautiful.” He presses his lips between my breasts and then drags them slowly across my skin, running his tongue over my scars. I wait for him to make an excuse . . . to back away from me.
But he doesn’t. He grins up at me instead. “Are you okay? Can I keep going?”
My first inclination is to shake my head, because I shouldn’t want him to. Any time I’ve imagined this happening with a guy in the past, I picture myself with a perfect body and no scars. But here I am, staring down at Ben as he explores every part of me I’ve wished were different. And he’s actually enjoying it.
And . . . so am I.
I nod, and maybe moan again because holy shit he looks hot. The fact that I’m the reason for that heated look in his eyes makes me feel even more desirable than when I imagine being perfect. He kisses his way back up my neck until he’s hovering over me. He slides a hand to the nape of my neck and dips his head.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to slow myself down when I’m with you.”
But not only does he slow himself down. He stops completely, because the door to his bedroom swings open.
Ben lies on top of me in a flash, covering me, but he isn’t fast enough for me to miss the girl standing in the doorway, wide-eyed.
Oh, God. The door. A girl.
“Ben?” she says.
I think I might panic.
“Can we have a minute, Jordyn?” Ben says, without looking back at her.
The door quickly slams shut and a muffled apology comes from the other side of it. “Sorry! Oh, wow, so sorry!”
Her reaction isn’t that of a pissed-off girlfriend, so that fills me with relief. It does little to relieve my embarrassment, though.
“I’m so sorry,” Ben says. “I had no idea she was home.” He gives me a quick peck on the mouth and then lifts up. “Don’t worry. This is way more embarrassing for her than it is for us.”
I pull my bra back up over my breasts and I sit up on the bed. “Speak for yourself.”
Ben retrieves my shirt from the foot of the bed and returns to me, helping me pull it over my head. He’s grinning.
“It’s not funny,” I whisper.
He laughs quietly. “If you knew Jordyn, you’d know that this is actually hilarious.”
I feel out of the loop and it isn’t until this moment that I realize how very little I actually know about Ben. “Is she your sister?”
“She will be in a few days,” he says, answering me as he slips on his shoes. “She’s marrying my brother Kyle this weekend. They’re having the wedding out back.”
He has a brother?
I’m reminded of how little I actually know about his family.
“The wedding is here? Do they live here?”
He nods. “My brothers and I inherited the house after my mom died. We all live here since there’s plenty of space. My older brother travels a lot, so he’s gone more than he’s here, though. Kyle and Jordyn share the master bedroom downstairs.”
I don’t know why I assumed Ben was an only child. And I had no idea his mother passed away. I feel like this guy whose mouth was just devouring my breasts is a complete stranger. He must see the confusion and embarrassment still on my face, so he leans over me and smiles reassuringly. “We’ll play twenty questions later and you’ll know almost everything about me. As boring as my life is. But for now, I want you to meet my future sister.” He pulls on my hands until I’m standing. I put my shoes back on and follow him out of the bedroom. We get to the top of the stairs and he stops and gives me the sweetest, softest kiss before continuing his descent to find Jordyn.
Blame it on the fact that I’m a sucker for romance novels, but I’ve been convinced that the grander the gesture, the greater the love. Some of my favorite scenes from the books I read are those pivotal points in the arc of the story when the guy declares his love for the girl in a huge way. But the way this one little kiss from Ben just left me feeling, I think I’ve been overlooking the best parts of romance novels. Maybe the grand gestures don’t matter nearly as much as all the inconsequential things between the two main characters.
It makes me want to go back and reread everything I’ve ever read, now that I’m experiencing these things with someone in real life.
“I’m so sorry,” someone is saying as Ben pulls me into the kitchen. “I had no idea you were home and I was looking for scissors but you are home and she’s definitely not a pair of scissors.”
She’s cute. Shorter than me, California-blond hair and a face that can’t hide a single emotion. Because right now, just looking at her, I can tell she’s about to crack.
“Jordyn, this is Fallon,” Ben says, gesturing toward me.
I wave and Jordyn immediately crosses the room and hugs me. “Nice to meet you, Fallon. Don’t be embarrassed, it’s perfectly normal for Ben to have girls in his room.”
I cut my eyes to Ben and he lifts his hands in defense like he has no idea why she just said that. I lift my palms up in a “help me” gesture, because she’s clinging tight and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Ben clears his throat and Jordyn finally releases me.
“Oh God, that totally came out wrong,” she says, shaking out her hands. “It’s not normal for him to have girls in his room. Not at all what I meant,” she says. “I just mean it’s nothing to be ashamed of, we’re all adults. I wasn’t implying that you’re one of many. In fact, he rarely ever brings girls here so that’s why I didn’t think twice before walking into his room, because it’s so rare I never thought he’d actually be in there. With you. With a girl.” She’s pacing now, and every time I catch a glimpse of her face, she looks on the verge of tears. I’ve never seen anyone more in need of a hug than she is right now.