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The hairs on my neck lift. It’s an occupational hazard that I read too much subtext where there is none, but suddenly, I’m onguard.
“Ben’s always pursued what he wants with relentless focus,” I say carefully. “He won’t let anything get in hisway.”
I trail off as Xavier’s attention shifts to the hall behind me. Ben fills the doorway, dress pants covering his strong legs and a dark blue sweater clinging to every muscle of his torso. The slightest bit of scruff follows his cut jaw, lighter than the dark hair falling across hisforehead.
Bottomless eyes crinkle at the corners as Ben looks between us. “This is asurprise.”
“She came to visit you at work. You’re a luckyman.”
I follow Ben to his office. Once we’re inside, he says, “You’re gunning for extra credit, by having coffee withXavier.”
“I was coming to see you. He found mefirst.”
Ben sits on the corner of his desk. “I thought you were busy today. Not that I’m not glad to see you, but I have to be on a conference call soon. If you’d given me a heads-up, we could’ve madeplans.”
“This won’t takelong.”
He gestures to the guest seat across from his desk. That feels too formal, so I cross to the windows that look out over theskyline.
“You got a text message with a photo of us from the Vineyard," Isay.
"Yes."
“Lil sent it. There wasn’t an agenda behind it, or if there was, it wasn’tmine.”
Ben shifts off the desk and rounds to his chair, sinking into it with grace and confidence. “What would that agendabe?”
“She thinks we should betogether.”
We study each other, the seconds ticking by with the dull thudding of myheart.
He doesn’tflinch.
“I don’t need a photo to tell me you’re beautiful,” he says at last. “That when you look at me as if I’m a god, I feel like one. But I liked itanyway.”
He has a conviction that wasn’t present on our way back from the Vineyard, and it sends a shot of adrenaline and desire throughme.
“Sunday morning, you seemed as if you had reservations about what happened betweenus.”
“I had to get my head on straight about something,” he admits. “And now itis.”
Of course it is. My friend never languishes in indecision forlong.
“I want you,” Ben says. “I've been arguing with the fact that I want you. I hate arguing with the inevitable. I’m done. We said we’d pretend for the month. Let’s go allin.”
“All in,” Iecho.
“We’re already acting like we can’t keep our hands off each other. Seems the joke’s onus.”
“You want sex.” I need to clarify, because it sounds as if he’s talking about something bigger than I expected, something I hadn’t let myself hopefor.
“I wantyou. Yes, I want to fuck you.” A shiver runs through me, all the way to my toes. His wolfish smile tells me he knows it. “All I do is draw borders around things in my life. It’s always been easy, but when it comes to you… it’s harder than Iimagined.”
But he’s still trying to draw boundaries around it, even after admitting hecan’t.
I know it, even if he doesn’t, because I knowhim.
“At my lunch meeting,” he goes on, “the only thing I could think about was getting out of there so I could jerk off. While I signed the bill, I was picturing you on yourknees.”
