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His eyes darken, and his gaze drops to my lips. My own lips part in anticipation, and I have to fight the very real urge to grab the man and pull him these last few inches. I may not have spent much time imagining a kiss with Ben, but I sure am now.
Just when I’m sure he’s going to close the gap between our mouths, Ben scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip and gives his head the tiniest shake. The heat in his eyes turns to something a whole lot more … rational.
I don’t likerational. I kicked my own rational to the curb a while ago and was ready to go full-tiltirrational with this man.
Now, I’m ready to melt out of embarrassment instead of attraction, but then Ben leans forward and presses a lingering kiss to my cheek, just by the curve of my jaw.
“Not here,” he whispers. “And not yet.”
He stays close, his mouth brushing across my skin, and I arch my neck, giving him access, willing him to kiss me again.
Definitely here, I silently beg.Absolutely yet.
Ben obliges—though still not on the mouth—kissing once, twice, three times over the curve of my jaw and grazing his lips down the side of my neck in a slow slide. It’s the most blissful kind of torture, and when he pulls away, standing to his full height, I immediately miss his nearness. And his lips.
When I kissed him, it was for show. To warn the other women off. To stake some sort of claim—if even a fake one—and save Ben.
But now I’ve opened Pandora’s box, and there’s no way I can shove all these feelings back inside. Forget my concerns about Ben being too similar to Justin. Forget my job and the stupid bad guys who may or may not be hunting me down. Forget German and Daniels and all of it.
I’m tired of denying that IlikeBen. I do. I like him. And owning that emotion is the most terrifying thing I’ve done in a very long time.
Ben’s eyes are fixed on my mouth as he backs away. I want to call him out, to tell him he’s a tease or a coward—anything to get him back over here and kissing me.
As though he can hear all these unspoken words, he grins and says, “Soon, Sadie girl. But not yet.”
And then he leaves me alone on the deck, simmering with equal parts pent-up desire and rage.
TWELVE
Ben
Waswhat I just did to Sadie cruel? I mean … not comparatively. If we’re talking about actual, legitimate cruelty.
But maybe it wasn’t thewisestorkindestthing ever to confess how long I’ve thought about kissing her and then NOT kiss her. Especially when she clearly wanted me to.
Here’s the thing, though: I can’t say with certainty that if I kissed Sadie for real, she wouldn’t immediately regret it.
She isn’t sure about me yet, even if she feltphysicallysure in the moment. I don’t doubt she wanted the kiss, wantedme. Which felt really, really good.
But I suspect if I’d kissed her then—poof!Her wanting would be done and then gone. Over. The end. While I’m not opposed to a little instant gratification sometimes, with Sadie, I wantmore.
I don’t just wantakiss. Afakerelationship. A fling on a yacht when she’s hiding out from what sounds more and more like legitimate trouble.
I am a patient man. And I can wait for our kiss to be more.
And if the waiting makes Sadie want me more, well, that’s okay too. There’s something to be said for anticipation and delayed gratification.
It’s anticipation I’m thinking of while getting dressed for dinner. My hair is still shower-damp as I adjust the collar of my shirt. I chose a simple blue button-down, tucked into khaki shorts with a belt. It’s a little nicer than what I typically wear around the boat. But then, with all the added guests, tonight will be something of a dinner party.
Am I also dressing to impress Sadie? I’d be a fool to deny it when literally everything I’ve done the past few days has been geared to impress her. Or more—to just make her like me.
As to whether it’s working or not … ask me in a few days.
I knock on Sadie’s door but there’s no answer. “Sadie?” I call, but after a moment, I decide she must have already gone to dinner.
I head to the dining room alone, hearing laughter and music before I even enter. I’m the last to arrive. Even Danny is here, though he probably shouldn’t be. At times, I treat my staff so much like friends that they—or I—forget their roles.
Danny clearly got wind of which guests we happened to pick up earlier and wanted to meet Ana. He’s currently staring at her like she’s a fantasy come to life, which only makes her preening more insufferable.
