Then a bell dings on the oven, and he pulls away. “Chop, chop.”
Just like that, the cat-and-mouse game continues, and the vulnerable man I’ve only seen glimpses of disappears into thin air.
“So…do you like it?” Ben watches me chew the small piece of perfectly cooked medium-rare steak in my mouth, his gaze zeroing in on my closed lips.
After swallowing, I admit, “This is quite possibly the best steak I’ve ever tasted.”
“And that is quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my cooking.”
My mouth stretches into a smile before I cover it with the lip of my wine glass that’s filled with cranberry juice.
“What’s so funny?” he inquires, slicing off a bite of steak from his plate.
“Just the fact that you were thoughtful enough to buy me cranberry juice instead of wine. Especially since it’s cranberry juice. Which is my absolute favorite, by the way. Not gonna lie, I was a little worried about how I was going to explain my current”––I motion to my stomach––“state to a booty call.”
“Booty call? Is that all I am to you?”
His mock outrage pulls a light laugh out of me. “I’m sorry, would you call what we’re doing something else?”
“Well…no, but you make it sound so dirty.” His shiver only adds to the insanity of this entire conversation.
“Maybe I like it dirty,” I jest.
“Touché.” Raising his glass, he clinks it against my own. “To cranberry juice, getting down and dirty, and making the man in the relationship feel like a well-priced gigolo.”
Laughing even harder, I lift my glass. “I’ll drink to that.” Then I take a sip of the tart liquid and lick my lips. “Speaking of getting down and dirty, I do feel like I should probably address the elephant in the room.”
“And what elephant is that?”
Here we go.
Slicing off another bite of delicious meat, I take a bite and savor the peppery flavor before explaining, “When I signed up to be a surrogate, they made it very clear that….” I take a sip of my drink––again––and pray it’ll have the same effect as the wine in Ben’s cup. Unfortunately, I’m still as sober as an AA participant.
“That…what exactly?” he prods curiously.
“They, uh, they made it clear that I have to have all my partners tested before…you know….”
His forehead creases for a millisecond before he raises his index finger into the air and excuses himself from the table with a nearly-concealed smirk. Curious, I watch him retreat down a hallway in his gorgeous home before sampling the baked potato with sour cream and chives.
Holy crap, that’s good.
With a fresh salad, green beans, and a baked potato on the side, I’d call this a dinner of kings. And he made it all. For me.
I’ve never had a guy make me dinner. I’ve had a few buy me dinner. And I’ve had plenty buy me a beer or a shot at the bar. But put in the effort to actually make me something? I take another sip of my cranberry juice and try not to dissect his actions, but it feels almost impossible.
The confident stride of Ben’s steps echoes down the hall as he returns with a manilla folder. When he reaches the table, he offers it to me, but as I go to take it, he pulls it away.
“Promise you won’t be judgy or jump to conclusions?”
That sounds promising.
I hesitate before muttering, “Yes?”
“Okay, good. Because I’m a doctor, and I’m a bit OCD when it comes to my health. I get tested after every sexual partner I’m involved with. Here are the results from my last test.” He offers the manilla folder to me, again, but actually lets me take it this time.
Flipping it open, I scan the document inside for two seconds before admitting, “Yeah, I have no idea what any of this means. I’ll have to let my doctor take a look.”
Ben’s mouth quirks up on one side as the word doctor rolls off my tongue. “I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”
“Mmmhmm, he’s very thoughtful like that.”
“Oh, really?”
“Mmmhmm,” I hum a second time.
Gaze heating, he warns, “Careful, Marcy. You’re making me jealous.”
“Of your alter-ego? Is that even possible?”
“Definitely. I find myself jealous of a lot of things when I’m around you.”
My pulse jumps, and I catch myself craving more of this banter like a junkie, so I press, “Like what?”
“Hmmm….” His eyes continue to heat with lust as he leans a little closer to me. The deep, rumbling sound goes straight to my core. “For example, I’ve been jealous of your fork all evening. Watching your mouth wrap around it has been the sweetest torture imaginable.”
“My fork, huh?” I gently sway it back and forth in my hand like an orchestra conductor.
He nods.
“Well, that’s just cruel and unusual punishment, isn’t it?”
“Definitely.”
With a smirk, I drop the fork to my plate then pick up a small morsel of meat between my thumb and forefinger. Holding his gaze, I place it between my lips and make sure to suck the excess juice from my fingers as I remove them from my mouth.
“Is that better?” I ask in an innocent voice.
His mouth twitches, but he shakes his head and picks up another piece of steak from my plate, mirroring my actions from seconds ago with his own. The piece of meat hovers an inch from my mouth. Then he waits for me to make the next move. Wrapping my lips around it, I make sure to steal a taste of his skin too, swirling my tongue around the tip of his finger before pulling away and chewing the bite of steak.
“Still jealous?” I ask, peeking up at him through my upper lashes.
“You have no idea,” he growls. Like a starving man, he tangles his fingers into my hair and practically devours me whole. The taste of red wine explodes on my tongue as Ben tilts my head to the side, demanding a better angle before he delivers the best freaking kiss I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. My entire body is humming with awareness, and I love the anticipation that accompanies every touch. Every caress. Every subtle shift of his body. Every labored breath. All of it is enough to bring my lust to the surface until I’m a panting mess in front of him.
A loud knock vibrates through the front door, scaring the shit out of both of us. I’d been so lost in his kiss, the world around us had faded until the only thing I could think about was how much I wanted more. More kissing. More touching. More of this lust-induced haze he’d woven together in a matter of minutes.
Clearing his throat, Ben gently brushes his thumb along the seam of my lower lip. His eyes pin me in place until another loud knock echoes a second time.
He groans. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
His long legs eat up the distance between the kitchen table and his front door. When he reaches it, he swings it open with a bit more force than necessary. His back goes rigid as soon as he sees the person on the other side, and my brows furrow. With a quick glance, he looks over his shoulder at me, then turns back to the door and says something in a low voice, though I can’t quite make out what it is.