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On impulse, I lean in and hughim.
With half a second’s hesitation, he draws me againsthim.
I might’ve initiated, but now it’s his strong body surrounding me. His heartbeat is a slow, steady rhythm against mine. The light stubble coming in along his jaw tickles mycheek.
I shut my eyes and breathe him in. “What did your mom say when you told her about theaward?”
Ben stiffens against me, his shoulders tightening beneath my arms. “Ihaven’t.”
He pulls back the next second before rising to head for thekitchen.
Startled, I watch him go and turn over the brusqueresponse.
He returns a moment later with the tequila bottle and pours another glass for each of us before he sits again. “I’ve been trying to reach her for three days, but she’s goneAWOL.”
His voice isn’t as crisp as it was before, and a ripple of worry runs through mystomach.
“What do you thinkhappened?”
I know every line of his hard jaw, his firm lips that default to serious but curve in a heartbeat, the strong nose and dark brows. His eyes range from the color of good whisky to the color ofearth.
Right now, they’re dark withemotion.
“I’m trying not to think,” hesays.
My heartaches.
His mom was a soap star in LA who got her break when Ben and his brother were little. Ben’s dad was in and out of their lives, but when Ben’s dad finally took all his things and most of the family’s money and left when we were in college, it broke Ben’s mom. He was left picking up thepieces.
“We’ll find her,” Isay.
Ben leans in, grabbing a piece of my hair and twisting it around his fingers. “I don't know what the fuck I'd do withoutyou.”
I do. Ben would still be Ben, and I’d be the one leftadrift.
The thought comes fromnowhere.
I tuck my hair behind my ear, an excuse to pull away from the careless touch that has heat stirring between mythighs.
But he goes on before I can come up with aresponse.
“Nice dress. Is it cold inhere?”
It takes me a second to realize his gaze has fallen to my chest. My nipples are sticking through thefabric.
“You flew home and showed up at my apartment so you could criticize myboobs?”
“I’ve been cooped up with a bunch of dudes for a week. There was no criticism.” The laughter in his voice doesn’t make it better. “I can return thefavor.”
He’s lifting his T-shirt before I canprotest.
“Why do men think the response to being caught checking out yours is showing you theirs? Keep it for your dating profile. I’m saving myself for Henry Cavill and…” My traitorous gaze locks on the grooves of his abs. “You’ve been workingout.”
He tosses his head back and laughs, a warm sound that vibrates along my nerve endings. “I’m offended you just noticed. I was named the fourth sexiest bachelor in Manhattan this year. The associates at work made sure to bring me a print copy of themagazine.”
Let’s be clear—a ripped body does not make a perfect boyfriend, but it’s natural to stare a littlelonger.
When a man is already intelligent, protective, funny, confident and a little infuriating and he also possesses those hard planes and grooves... it’s downrightunfair.
