Ben
She thinks she’s lost me.
I let her think that.
For some reason, she’s pinned me as a weak party boy who can’t handle men like her father. I was in the fucking military, for crying out loud, and the things I did during my service…they make me no better than Marco.
I peer out into the streets of Las Vegas, ignoring the stench of vodka and puke in the back of the taxi. I rarely think about what I had to do when I was overseas. It doesn’t matter if the life you take is that of your enemy. It affects you all the same. Sometimes, you get caught up in the battle and you do things that prevent sleep later that night and for many nights to come…I shiver at the thought. Anyway, that’s not my life anymore, and while I have to live with the hard decisions one has to make in combat, I refuse to let that part of my service define me.
“You haven’t given me an address.” The taxi driver bites out as he’s caught in another red light. “How am I supposed to know what lane to get in?”
“Just follow that town car,” I tell him for the umpteenth time. “It’ll stop soon. When it does, give it a little breathing space. Pull over only when I tell you to.”
“That’s awfully cryptic,” he mutters, his southern accent coming through. “You’re not going to do anything illegal, are ya?”
I chuckle. “Not tonight.”
I glance out into the street, the drops from the light spattering of rain has created a bokeh effect on the glass. We’re in need of a decent downpour, but the clouds filled with promise have long since gone. They drizzled enough rain to make Vegas look like it’s been dipped in glitter, but not enough to make its reckless inhabitants slip and fall on their asses.
I peer between the driver and the passenger seat as Sera’s town car slows to a stop and pulls alongside the curb. I instruct my driver to hang back a little and I catch his gaze as he analyzes me through the rearview mirror.
“What’d you say your name was?” he asks.
He doesn’t trust me. Good. It’s modern America. He shouldn’t trust anybody.
“I didn’t.”
James rushes from the driver seat and I watch intently, ignoring the incessant honks behind me.
“Hey, guy, I can’t sit in traffic like this.”
I wait a few more seconds as James opens the rear door and the girls pour onto the street, laughing as if they don’t have a single care in the world. Naomi and her friend start forward toward the club’s dingy entrance, but Sera takes a second to check her surroundings. She doesn’t spot me sitting in the taxi thirteen feet away. Thanks to the shower, the raindrops on the glass reflect the outside world. Nervously flicking her tongue between her lips, she tugs her handbag onto her shoulder and walks toward the entrance of the club, toward the burly, bald-headed bouncer that blocks the door.
I instruct my driver to pull over and he does without hesitation. He asks me for my name again, but I pretend I don’t hear him as I fish cash from my wallet and slap it onto the center console. He grabs at it quickly, eager to count the money before I exit the vehicle.
“It’s all there,” I tell him, watching the girls enter the club. “Plus the tip.”
Folding the money, he stuffs it into the front pocket of his red plaid shirt and I slip from the taxi. I barely close the door before he zooms back into traffic without indicating, like a madman.
A vibrating sensation from my cellphone against my left ass cheek demands my attention and I pull it out and answer with a gruff hello.
“You left my club.” Marco’s voice is cold, so cold I’m surprised ice doesn’t seep from the ear piece. “I told you not to leave my club.”
“Did you try telling your daughter that?” I retort, storming toward the entrance.
“She doesn’t listen,” he spits. “Are you with her?”
“I’m not with her,” I say, shrugging uncomfortably in my sports jacket. “But I’m near her.”
Marco simmers in the silence. Through the phone, I hear him tapping something, apparently in thought. “She’s safe?”
“She’s safe.”
“And you’ll bring her home before two?”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “She’ll be home before two.”
Within four feet of the door to the club, I’m stopped by the bouncer, his humongous palm spread, forbidding me from entering.
“What?” I ask him, frowning.
He doesn’t say a word. He just shakes his head at me. What the hell? I’ve never been denied entry to a nightclub before. What is it? Is it the way I’m dressed? I bet it’s these damn leather shoes.
“You got a problem, Ben?” Marco asks and his gravelly voice gives me an idea.
“This Neanderthal won’t let me inside the club your daughter’s at,” I tell him. “Obviously, he doesn’t think it’s important that I get inside.”
“Put him on the phone,” Marco demands and I hand my cellphone over.
The bouncer hesitates, however, before taking my phone and holding it to his massive, cauliflower ear. He grunts his hello, but his spine straightens the second he gets a response. His eyes widen, his jaw clenching.
God. Having the kind of power Marco does must feel magnificent.
“She paid me…” he grumbles, “…to not let the douche in the sports jacket inside if he shows up. Okay…yes. Okay…all right…”
Douche in the sports jacket? Nice.
The bouncer hands me back my phone and steps aside. I press my phone to my ear.
“If you lose her, Ben Campbell, tonight will not end well for you.”
My lips twitch as I fight a smile. “There’s no way your girl is getting away from me, Marco. Not tonight.”
He hangs up and I slip my phone back into my pocket and enter the nightclub.
Sera
I let my annoyance with Ben consume me for a good hour before I toss the thoughts of him out of my head and swallow my fourth shot of tequila. The bartender knows who I am. He used to work for my father, but he doesn’t bring it up. He didn’t even card me when I ordered the first round of drinks.
I’m being stupid tonight. Reckless. Dad’s gonna kill me when he sees I’ve been drinking, but I’m over caring and I’m going to need the booze if I’m gonna get through telling him that I ditched Ben hours ago.
Can’t wait to see what my punishment is this time. Insert sarcasm here.
“You’re not dancing!” Naomi screams in my ear as she falls against the bar.
I laugh at her and her sloppiness. She’s never been able to hold her booze well. Who was that guy from weeks ago? Ben’s friend? I tap my finger against my empty shot glass and it hits me. Chad. Naomi never boned Chad because she was too busy throwing up. Instead of the revenge fuck she’d been planning since her boyfriend of four years cheated on her, she spent the night half-naked with her arms wrapped around a toilet. Typical Naomi shit.
“I don’t want to dance,” I shout back, swaying on my seat.
I see her clearly…or at least I think I do. Her red lipstick is smudged and her lips are swollen, the telltale sign of an epic kiss. Or a shitty drunken one.
“You do! You do!” She snatches me by the wrist and tugs me off my stool.
My handbag falls to the ground and I shout at Naomi. “Wait!”
She releases my wrist and I stumble, falling to my knees on the gross club floor. I’ve long since let my hair out of its bun and it falls around my face, sticking to my damp skin.
Giggling, I grab my handbag and pick myself up. I slam my handbag onto the bar, toward the bartender, the one who used to work for my dad.
“Can you look after this for me?”
He scratches at his short, blond locks and I see the terror in his eyes. He’s worried because I’m drunk off my ass and he’s the one who’s been serving me all night. Lucky for him, no one is here to see. I narrow my eyes at him and he takes my bag with a hesitant nod.
“Good boy.”
I turn around and Naomi takes my hand, I let her escort me onto the dancefloor and it’s hotter here than it was at the bar. I breathe through my mouth and I taste everything. Deodorant. Booze. Sweat. I’m sure I’d find it gross if I was sober, but right now, it’s an airborne drug, inciting arousal deep within me. Naomi presses her hard body against mine as we dance. Her hands roam me, from my hips to my breasts, and I don’t mind it. We’ve touched each other before.
Sexually.
Experimentally.
It was fun, but we decided after the first time that it wasn’t something we particularly craved with one another. Unlike my night with Ben…
Hell…I’ve never felt so good.
I try to imagine Naomi’s hands as Ben’s, but they’re too soft, too feminine. She can’t touch me the way he touched me. His hands were powerful and relentless, roaming every naked inch of me.
Soon, Naomi’s hands fade from my body and new ones come. Hard ones. Manly ones. The stranger grinds against me, his jeans rubbing the back of my bare legs. Whoever he is, he’s easier to imagine as Ben. I keep my eyes closed and continue to dance. Not for him, this…this stranger, but for who I imagine this stranger to be. I can count the amount of people I’ve had sex with on one hand and Ben dominates them all. From what I can remember, and I hope it’s not just the drunk haze, he completely claimed me, and in that moment, I’d never felt so pretty, so wanted. That in itself makes our rebellious night worth every risk.
The stranger touches me all over and I allow it, placing my hands over his. I pretend he’s someone else, as they travel the length of my body, pinching and squeezing. Arousal builds deep within me for all the wrong reasons, and if I don’t sort it out, it will drive me fucking crazy. For a brief second, the stranger’s hands fall away, but they come back firmer than ever…and larger than before. I open my eyes to gain clarity of the situation, wondering if there are more than two hands on my body since the large expanse of his palms cover a lot of ground. His hands can easily be mistaken for Ben’s. I wonder if his lips can too.
I try to turn around, but he pins me against his torso, his thick arms trapping me against him. That’s when I realize that gone is the rough sensation of denim against my legs, replaced by the soothing feel of expensive, Italian wool.
“You’re not being cooperative, Seraphina.”
I startle, my blood hotwired by the aggression in his tone and then electrified by the use of my full name.
Ben-Goddamn-Campbell.
How long has he been here? Has he watched me all night? Watched me tip back shot after shot? I paid that fucking doorman three hundred dollars to keep him out.
Ben cranes his head, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. The hair on the back of my neck reaches for him, like they’re scraps of metal and his lips are magnets. “I was going to let you enjoy your night in peace, but you can’t get away with dancing like that. Not with him.”
He holds me tightly in his grasp and my eyes flutter shut, allowing myself to melt into him. I shouldn’t. I normally wouldn’t, but he feels so perfect against me. Better than ever. Would he do it? Do me? What if I begged? What if I forced myself on him like I did that night we spent together?
Maybe I shouldn’t look at having him as my guard as a bad thing. Maybe it’s a good thing. A very good thing.
I open my eyes as I succumb to a sudden wave of sobriety.
This is Vegas…
…and my father owns Vegas. If anyone who is anybody sees us like this, Ben is as good as dead. The whole reason I’m being so difficult, the whole reason I’m keeping him at arm’s length is because of that. If I was anyone else’s daughter, I’d be chasing him, not pushing him away.
I struggle against him and he lets me go. I whirl on my heel, losing my balance. Cursing, he snatches my wrist and tugs me upright.
I snatch my limb back with a scowl. “Don’t touch me.”
“Don’t touch you?”
“Yeah.” I straighten my dress and flick my hair. “You heard me.”
“Fine. I’ll let you fall on your ass next time.”
I narrow my eyes. The neon and the strobes surrounding us flash their colors, the brighter ones lighting his handsome features. When the beat slows, the colors don’t flash as much and shadows pool in the hollows of his face, making him look more like one of my father’s men than I’d like him to. It strikes me then, as I stare into his soulless eyes, that I don’t know a damn thing about him. The fact my father sees something in him should be a warning sign. He doesn’t go around hiring good guys, after all.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I shout over my shoulder as I whirl on my heel. “Is that okay, or do you need to hold my hand?”
“Ten minutes. Then we leave.”
I mock him, pulling a face as I push my way through the crowd toward the ladies’ room. Thankfully, there isn’t much of a line and I waltz right in. Five of the seven stalls are unoccupied and I choose the one that’s the least gross and I do my business. The bathroom fills up within minutes and soon there are women screeching and laughing, some of them crying uncontrollably. My head spins as I finish my business, push myself to my feet, pull up my panties, and flush the toilet. I sway on my feet. It’s slight, but enough for me to feel intimidated by the height of my heels. Maybe it’s time for me to go home. If I get drunker than this, there’s no way I’ll be able to hide it from my father. I adjust my dress and fumble with the toilet door latch until it finally opens. I ignore the gaggle of girls as they throw themselves around the room, leaning up against whatever stable sliver of tile and porcelain is free. On the plus side, the bathroom now smells like perfume.
I wash my hands in the basin and dry them with a paper towel before exiting. Outside in the hall, the line of girls begins to stack up. Thank God, I got in when I did.
“Hey.” I’m stopped before I can even start forward.
I lift my head to the man in front of me, cringing at his bright red button up shirt he’s rolled to the elbows of his slender arms.
“Hello.”
Two women cuss at me as they squeeze between me and the door and I shrug it off with a step to the side, intending to bypass the unknown man who’s come out of nowhere.
“Sorry.” He touches my bicep and I pause. “My name’s Jacob. We were dancing together…before your jealous ex showed up.”
I quirk an eyebrow, but quickly squash it. A jealous ex? Is that how Ben looked? The thought ignites butterflies in my stomach. As quickly as I can, I take in the man’s boyish face and broad shoulders. He’s not ugly at least, but he’s not the type I’d go for. I like dark eyes, not baby blues.
“Oh.” I touch my hair, glancing down the corridor. “Sorry. He can be a little…intense.”
Where is he, anyway? Surely my father told him to chase away any boys that look me in the eye too long.
“You don’t need to apologize.” Jacob’s purses his thin lips as he scratches at the back of his head. It draws my attention to the copious amounts of gel he’s used to slick back his blond locks. “You wanna get out of here? Clear your head a bit?”
I lean back, swaying ever so slightly. I may be under the influence, but I’m not that under the influence.
“I’m not sleeping with you, if that’s what you think.”
He flashes me his palms, a calming gesture, like I’m some wild animal he’s worried will flip out. “Furthest thing from my mind, promise. I’m just offering to help give you a little space between you and him. That’s all.”
I narrow my eyes, suspicious. “That’s all, huh?”
“Unless you want to leave with him.”
I snort. I can imagine it now, the awkwardness of it all. And he is mad at me for dancing with Jacob. You know what? Fuck it. One last ditch effort to save Ben’s life.
“Fine, but I’m bringing my friends.”
“That’s okay with me.”
I agree to meet Jacob by his black Mustang in the club’s parking lot once I’ve rounded up Naomi and Karen. Naomi isn’t hard to find. She’s dancing on a table barefoot with a bottle of booze clenched in her hand and a security guard shouting from three feet away. He can’t reach her. She’s created a moat of adoring fans around her.
I grab my bag from the bar and use it as a battering ram to get through. I shout her name and she spots me immediately.
“Come on!” she shouts, a glistening liquid rolling from her lips and off her chin. “Dance!”
“I’m leaving!” I shout back. “Are you coming?”
Naomi glances around. “We’re thinking about going to a casino soon. You don’t want to come?”
I shake my head, aggravating a brewing headache at the back of my skull. I can’t have fun here. Ben might have been my acquaintance first, but now my father pays his bills, who knows what information he’ll pass on. At least no one is watching me in my room at home. It’s the one place I have privacy. The average twenty-year-old American girl would feel suffocated, but I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. It’s just the way it is for girls like me.
I wave Naomi off and she promises to call me when she gets home so I know she arrived safely. It’s funny. I’ve gone out a lot with my friends over the years, but we always end up going our separate ways at some point during the night. Sometimes by accident. Others on purpose. I honestly don’t know why I bother going out anymore. I simper. I’m twenty and I’m already sick of the nightlife.
Surprisingly, I don’t feel Ben at my back as I make for the club’s exit. Since I arrived, the bodies in the club have doubled, maybe even tripled, but I look the same as at least ten other girls in there. I bet Ben the newbie is having a hard time trying to pin me down.
I’ve never left a club with a guy before, excluding Ben of course, but Jacob is my last shot at getting Ben fired. When I show up at home without James, in the passenger seat of a car driven by a random boy I met at a club my father doesn’t own, and drunk, there’s no way my father will keep Ben on. He might get an ass beating, but he’ll recover. At least he won’t be found buried under six-feet of sand years down the track and he’ll have me to thank for that.
Outside, the air is thick with moisture and it clings to my skin. As I walk along the sidewalk toward the parking lot adjacent the club, I start to doubt my plan. I could be getting myself into a lot of trouble…and not from my dad. I don’t know Jacob…I don’t know if he’s under the influence of alcohol or drugs, and I sure as hell don’t know if he has a history of violence or sexual assault. Tonight could end really badly for me.
Granted, leaving the club with Ben that night could have ended badly as well, but there was something about him that made me feel safe. He could have driven me away in a van that had “free candy” sprayed in red up the sides and I still wouldn’t have questioned his intentions
While Jacob looks friendly enough, I didn’t get that same “safe” vibe and that, suddenly, makes me uncomfortable.
I glance down the main street, looking for James. When he dropped us off, he pulled into a two-minute zone. While my father’s men would cut the fingers off any tow truck driver or law enforcement officer that dare lay a finger on their cars, James is different. He’s an old man that respects the law and follows the rules. He’s been my driver since I was a little girl and my father trusts his driving skills wholeheartedly. Knowing all of this about him, it’s safe to say he’s parked the town car elsewhere. Pausing, I open my handbag and pull out my new phone. Sure enough, James has texted to let me know he’s parked around the back when I’m ready to leave. I’m thankful my father only depends on James to drive me around and not to protect me. I can’t stomach the thought of James getting into trouble because of something I did.
I turn into the alley, eager to find James instead of Jacob as second guesses plague me.
To my left, a car door clicks open. “Hey!”
I slam to a stop and squint through the murky, yellow streetlight at the red-draped arm that waves in my direction.
“Over here!”
Shit.
“Where are your friends at?”
“They don’t want to come,” I shout back, glancing around, scratching the back of my head. “I think I’m gonna call it a night and go home.”
“Okay.” Jacob smiles. “Want me to take you home?”
Cold feet. That’s what they call the act of backing out of something at the last minute. My feet aren’t just cold. My feet are freezing. If Ben wants to work for my family, that’s fine. Whatever happens is on him. I shouldn’t risk my safety trying to protect him.
“Um…”
“She’s good.”
I startle at the rough snap beside me as Ben storms down the sidewalk. I take a minute step back as he swallows the distance between us, looking as devastating as ever.
“You sure?”
I cringe at Jacob’s question, realizing I don’t know Ben’s temperament either. He could be a madman. I swiftly nod, unable to take my eyes off Ben, who glares down his straight nose at me, and I swallow hard.
“Ben is going to take me home.”
Ben’s jaw ticks and my body weakens as his arresting aggression rolls off of him in waves. I’ve really made him angry tonight. The way he’s poised his eyebrows, with a challenging kink in their curve, suggests he’s reached the end of his rope.
Jacob curses and drops back into his car. The black Mustang comes to life with a roar and I jump as he floors it out, racing off like an idiot. Jacob’s tires screech in the distance, followed by the various honks of other drivers, and I’m thankful Ben showed up in time to stop me from being polite and getting in Jacob’s car, even though I didn’t want to.
“Ben…”
“You know where James has parked. I suggest you start walking before I say something I’ll regret.”
Okay…fair enough. Pursing my lips, I turn around, slipping my cellphone into my handbag. My heels click along the pavement and I desperately try to keep my focus on each crack as I pass them by, not wanting to lose a shoe or roll my ankle. The more I focus on my feet, however, the more I notice a niggling at the back of my heel. Soon, that niggling turns into full blown fire. I stop with a groan.
“My feet hurt.”
He nudges my shoulder. “It’s not far, princess.”
Princess? I whirl around to face him. “Stop calling me that.”
“I will, when you stop acting like one.”
Tears well in my eyes—irrational tears. Ones born of alcohol and pain. He can say what he wants about me. It isn’t wrong. I’ve been horrible since I saw him having breakfast with my father in my backyard.
“I…” I clear my throat. “I think I have a blister.”
The longer I stay in these shoes, the more I notice the pain. I swipe at my cheek and peer up at Ben, who watches me closely, his head tilted, his eyebrows furrowed. He doesn’t trust me.
“You want me to carry you?”
I scoff with a sniffle. “In this dress? No.”
“Then what do you want?” His voice holds an air of impatience and I don’t like it.
I was going to ask him to take my shoes off, but he’ll only mock me for that too. Tsking, I bend over and my handbag slides down my arm and plonks to the ground, pulling me off balance.
I put my hand out and squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact, but it doesn’t come.
“Christ,” Ben curses, grabbing my arm in one hand while smoothing a large, rough palm over the small of my back. He eases me upright and my head spins, my eyes fluttering open.
I grin at him. “I thought you were going to let me fall on my ass next time.”
“I thought about it.”
I touch his bicep to steady myself and I realize he’s taken off his sports jacket. Only thin, silky fabric separates my warm, damp skin from his. I try not to let it bother me, but there’s something about that thought that gets me hot underneath my metaphorical collar.
“Hold onto this for me.” Releasing me, he drapes his sports jacket over my shoulders and I turn my head into the fabric to smell it, leaning against the club’s concrete wall behind me.
It smells like him…like he did the night we spent together. Earth. Man. A perfect mix of sugar and spice.
Not paying me any attention, Ben crouches before me, placing one gentle hand on the back of my calf and the other on my heel. I become hyperaware of his bare skin on mine and goosebumps erupt along the narrow of my spine.
“Lift,” he orders and I do as I’m told.
Cool air swoops in and kisses my aching feet, and I can’t help the melting sigh that seeps from my lips. I place my tender sole against the uneven concrete and snuggle further into his sports jacket as he removes my second heel and straightens his stance.
“Better?”
I nod without a smile. “Much. Thank you.”
I push off the wall and stroll the rest of the alley, moving at a snail’s pace so I don’t end up with a new shoe, one made of syringes and shards of broken glass. I exhale in relief when I spot my town car by the club’s rear entry and James’s silhouette inside. As usual, he jumps out as I approach, but Ben waves him off. “I’ve got it, James. Thanks.”
James returns to the driver’s seat and Ben opens the door for me. I slip inside and shuffle along the leather seats to the far door, placing my handbag on my lap. Once Ben joins me, he slams the door shut and raises the partition between us and James, placing my heels neatly in the space beside him.
With my head against the window, I sit in silence for what feels like years, zoning in and out of stupors, and after a while, it gets to me.
“I know you’re mad at me…” I start, lifting my forehead off the glass.
“That’s the understatement of the fucking century.”
“But I was only going to leave with him to help you.”
He turns in his seat, settling his dark gaze on me. “Help me? If you want to help me, why don’t you stop making my job so damn difficult?”
I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off.
“You think I want to follow you around town and stand in the corner of some nightclub while you drink your ass off and dance on strangers? I fucking don’t, but I am committed to seeing this job through because I get to carry a loaded gun and your father pays me more than I ever made in the army.” He turns his large body to face the front of the car. “This job isn’t about you. I need it because I can’t go back to bagging groceries or fetching coffee. I can’t do mediocrity.”
I pull his jacket tighter around me. I didn’t know he was in the army…
“You can play your games as much as you want, Sera, but you cannot get rid of me.” His dark, gravelly tone makes me shiver. “I’ll be there, right behind you, until your father buries a bullet in my skull.”
I peer at him. “And that doesn’t scare you?”
“What?”
“My father…when he finds out what we did?”
Ben’s jaw flexes as he ponders, and the longer he holds me in his thoughtful gaze, the faster my heart beats.
“No.”
“He’ll kill you.”
“Maybe, but that won’t erase what we did.”
I tap my manicured fingers against my knees, watching as the bright colors of Vegas reflect in the clear acrylic.
“Do you regret what we did?” A stupid question, but I ask it anyway.
We were both wasted that night. I don’t remember all of it, but the snippets I do still set my blood on fire. Ben Campbell knows his way around a woman, that’s obvious. He’s had a hundred women, probably. I bet I barely made a blip on his radar.
When he doesn’t answer, I muster the courage to look at him. He’s watching me, one hand closed tightly around the handle to the arm rest.
“Do you?” he counters and, dare I say, his voice is almost sad.
I open my mouth and the words I was going to say become trapped in my throat as James lowers the partition. “We’re going home, right, Miss?”
“Yes, thank you, James.”
With an impatient sigh, Ben mutters under his breath and closes the partition.
“I guess neither of us remembers enough of that night to truly form an opinion.”
“Speak for yourself.”
I cut my eyes at him. “You drank as much as I did.”
Ben’s full lips twitch at the corners and he fights one of those smiles I like so much. “I’m curious to hear how you think the night panned out since you’re already wrong.”
“Wrong?” I turn on the seat, facing him front on.
“Yeah, wrong. You outdrank me a hundred to one.”
I frown. “No, I didn’t.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“That’s not how I remember it,” I argue. “Next you’re going to tell me that I threw myself at you? That going back to Chad’s suite was my idea?”
Ben leans close, his eyes glistening with delight. “Yes, you did throw yourself at me. No, it wasn’t your idea to go back to Chad’s suite.”
I settle against the leather seat, smug.
“If I let you have it your way, you would’ve fucked me in the corner booth of a random Vegas club instead of every surface in a two grand a night hotel room.”
I gape at him. Fierce heat rushes into my cheeks and blooms all over my body. Where does he get the nerve to talk to me like that? Like I’m some kind of…of…whore.
“That’s not how it happened.” I shrug out of his jacket and toss it to the floor along with my bag.
Is it hot in here? I hit the partition button and request James cool the air before closing him off once again. Ben’s cockiness radiates off of him in waves and it irritates the hell out of me. How dare he sit there all unbothered. Who the hell does he think he is?
“Can’t take the heat, princess?”
“I’ve already asked you not to call me that.”
He shrugs his big, broad shoulders and lifts my heels in front of his face. “If the shoes fit.”
Clenching my teeth, I launch at him, knocking my shoes to the floor. He barely flinches, barely reacts to my outburst. As I pant in anger next to him, all he does is look at me, his chin slightly tilted toward his chest, his darkening stare penetrating my soul from under his brow.
“You’re wild…” he says in a low deep voice. “Aren’t you?”
“I’m anything, but a princess.”
James rolls to a stop at a red light and bright, white LEDs infiltrate the black, bulletproof glass, illuminating Ben’s features. His spiky black hair, dark eyes that—in this moment—threaten to share all of his deepest, darkest secrets with me.
…and don’t get me started on those full lips of his.
Lips I want to kiss.
Ben flicks his tongue over his lower lip to moisten it and it pulls me out of my daze.
We’re close, I realize. So close I can smell him—feel his warmth radiating onto me, urging me to reach out and touch him.
“You don’t remember anything about that night?”
I give my head a lazy shake.
“Not how I kissed you?”
I close my eyes and desperately try to remember. I bet it was fucking glorious. “No.”
“Not how I touched you?”
I feel his hot breath on my face and my pulse skitters uncontrollably. I don’t dare open my eyes. The thought of having him so close…my heart can’t take it.
“Look at me…” he utters and I force my eyes to flutter open. “I’ll refresh your memory if you promise not to ever run off on me again.”
Is…is he negotiating with me? A kiss in exchange for my compliance?
“You think your kiss is worth it, huh?”
My amused tone makes his eyes glisten with a challenge and he smiles, one corner of his mouth turning up, as he rolls the sleeves of his white button shirt to his elbows.
“Are all soldiers as dramatic as you?”
He chuckles. “Only when their dignity is on the line.”
Ben shuffles toward me and I fall back against the leather with a nervous laugh. “Ben, this is stupid.”
“No, it isn’t.”
He leans closer and fire burns in my cheeks. He’s serious. He really wants to do this.
“James…” I whisper, my attention falling to Ben’s lips as he moistens them. “What if he—”
“Don’t worry about him.”
He glides one rough hand along my outer thigh and gently guides my chin with the other. He lifts my face to his and touches his lips to mine. His kiss is gentle, barely a touch, but it threatens to consume me all the same. My eyes flutter shut and my heart races, threatening to tear a hole in my chest.
This is dangerous.
With a groan, he clamps his hand on my thigh and I gasp as he tugs me forward, pulling me into his lap. The thin fabric around my thighs gives away with smalls pops of threading and I try to assess the damage, but he snatches my face in his large hands, forcing my mouth to remain on his. Ben kisses me hard, so hard he sucks the air from my lungs and the sense from my head. The warmth from my blush spreads down my neck and pools in my breasts. His hands return to gripping my thighs and they’re so strong and powerful. I want to feel them over my entire body.
I remember now. This is exactly how I felt that night.
Ben flicks his tongue over my lower lip, coaxing me into opening my mouth to him.
Then he claims it.
He claims it like it’s his and only his.
Like he’s the only one who’s ever kissed me.
I moan against him, raking ten aggressive fingers through his clean hair. I open my thighs wider, eager for our hips to touch. His thighs are monstrous, warm, and firm. I moan again, louder this time, and it’s enough to break this kiss. I tilt my head back.
“Shut up,” Ben growls, pressing his lips to my throat. I swallow hard and he licks my flesh as it bobs. “We’ll get caught.”
“I don’t care,” I sigh. “Just keep going.”
I tilt my face, meeting his lips once again, this time with wild abandon.
This kiss is worth risking everything for.
This kiss is worth getting murdered for.
I want him. I want him now. In this moment, as wrapped up as I am, I can see myself throwing caution to the wind and taking him anywhere—and any way—I can get him.
I press my breasts against his chest, desperate to get closer. A few wild heartbeats pass and I feel Ben begin to close off underneath me, trying to end the kiss, but I don’t want to stop.
I groan in protest and continue to touch him, to kiss him, but he pulls my hands from his body and pins my arms to my side before raking his teeth over my lower lip, ending the kiss.
Disappointment and frustration flood me and I cut my eyes at him. “That wasn’t anything to brag about.”
My voice is breathless and I hate it. My lips are swollen too, they feel like tiny balloons on my face. Smirking, he eases me off of his lap and the burning skin of my thighs cool against the leather seat.
“If you say so.” He bends down and grabs my heels. With a gentle flick of his wrists, he tosses them in front of me. “We’re home.”
I sit up straight. We’re home? Jesus Christ. How long did we kiss for?
“What’s the matter?” he asks, his voice teasing as he reaches over and plucks his jacket off the floor. “Lose track of time?”
“No.” I slip my bare feet back into my heels, cringing when the leather presses against forming blisters. “Don’t be ridiculous. It was a kiss. Not an LSD trip.”
Oh, you little liar. Kissing Ben was more than any synthetic fantasy I’ve ever been on. I’m just too stubborn to admit it. Whatever this man has in his saliva needs to be extracted, synthesized, and turned into a drug. No one human should possess the ability to kiss like that.
The car rolls to a stop just as we finish adjusting ourselves. I flick my hair around my shoulders to hide the pink hue of arousal in my skin. I work on evening my breathing when Ben reaches up to the ceiling and turns the light on. I flinch away from it, like a vampire to sunlight.
“What are you doing?”
“You left a wet patch on my pants.”
My stomach revolts and I gape at him, mortified. Why is he looking at me like that? As if he’s just revealed the punchline to a joke.
“No, I didn’t.”
He snatches my hand and presses my palm against his warm, damp crotch. My fingers twitch, so does his cock, and his hot breath blows against my cheek. “That’s all you.”
I snap my hand back with a scoff, feigning disgust to mask the sexual heat that climbs the back of my neck. Reaching up, I turn off the roof light, drowning us in semi-darkness. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re a shitty actress.”
James’s shadow appears against the passenger’s glass a second before he opens Ben’s door. I purse my lips, deprived of getting the final say.
Fucking Ben Campbell.