Anything But Love (13 page)

Heat swept through her. Back in New York, she would never have done such a thing on a dinner date. It was so forward, so . . .

Sexual.

She looked up and met Ben’s eyes. He was staring at her, his expression smoldering. Her heart started to pound.

She looked back down at her plate, cutting a bite of chicken with trembling hands. They focused on eating for the next few minutes, but the electricity between them was like a living thing.

For the first time since they’d arrived in Bermuda, neither one of them ordered dessert.

As they were leaving the restaurant Ben put a hand on her lower back, and the contact sent a flutter of excitement through her whole body. But when she started to head for the outside doors, he steered her across the lobby instead.

“Where are we going?”

“The cocktail lounge.”

She shook her head vigorously. “No. I don’t want to drink. I know it would probably relax me a little, but I don’t want to—to cheat. That probably sounds stupid to you, but—”

“It doesn’t sound stupid,” Ben said. “It sounds brave.”

“Brave?”

He nodded. “You want to make your own choices, without the help of alcohol. And you can. You don’t have to drink to be able to know what you want. That’s what this is about, right? Figuring out what you want? What you like?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then. We’re not going to the lounge to drink. We’re going to dance.”

“Dance?”

“There’s a band playing tonight. I thought that would be a good start for us.”

She thought about it. She didn’t really want to dance, but she’d told Ben that she trusted him. That she was putting herself in his hands. “Okay.”

They could hear the music before they reached the doorway. Jessica wasn’t positive, but she thought the song sounded like . . .

“Oh my God. It’s a Journey cover band.”

“Not only Journey,” Ben said with a grin. “The guy at the desk told me they do a wide variety of eighties songs.”

She looked up at him skeptically. “And you think this is a good dating move?”

“We’re about find out,” Ben said as they went through the entrance to the lounge.

C
HAPTER
T
EN

T
hey stood inside the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene. The lounge was full but not crowded. The couples on the dance floor and at the tables and barstools were mostly over forty, and they looked like they were having a good time.

The band was at the far end of the room. They finished “Don’t Stop Believing,” paused a moment, and then went into a slow song she didn’t recognize.

“Come on,” Ben said, taking her hand and leading her onto the dance floor.

“I’m feeling déjà vu,” she murmured, letting Ben place her right hand on his left shoulder before he took her left hand in his right. “Do you remember our ballroom lessons at Shipley?”

In seventh grade, all the students had been required to take ballroom dance.

Ben pulled her a little closer. “I remember.”

The two of them had agreed to be partners through that year of torture. By the end of it, the half hour devoted to learning the waltz and the fox-trot had turned into her favorite part of the day.

“Should we try to do steps or something?”

The question sounded silly as soon as she asked it, but she felt stiff and she couldn’t seem to relax.

“We don’t have to do anything fancy,” Ben said. “This is a slow song, right? All we have to do is sway.”

“Sway?”

“Yeah.”

He showed her what he meant by moving back and forth to the beat.

“You’re right. This is easy.”

“I told you so. All you have to do is trust me. Remember?”

“Yes. I do.”

He slid an arm around her waist. “Good.”

Millimeter by millimeter she felt herself relaxing. Maybe that was because of Ben, who seemed perfectly relaxed himself, as though he were in no hurry at all. Somehow, her stereotype of men had included the idea that when an offer of sex was on the table, their libido would take the wheel—which would mean getting horizontal as soon as possible.

But Ben wasn’t trying to rush her into bed. He was enjoying himself in the moment, with her, swaying to the music of a mediocre eighties cover band.

She let her head fall forward, resting her cheek against Ben’s broad chest. She could hear his heart beating. As he changed his hold and enveloped her in his strong arms, his heart beat faster.

Hers was beating faster, too. Ben’s body was so warm, so big, so strong and male—but there was nothing intimidating in his masculinity, nothing that made her feel helpless or afraid.

She just felt . . . good.

Her arms were around his waist, her head against his chest. She was surrounded by the scent of clean male skin and the warmth of his presence, and for a few minutes that was all she could focus on.

But below the haze of comfort and ease was a lower, deeper thrum. When the band finished one song and began another, Ben introduced a new rhythm to their dancing.

He insinuated one of his legs between hers as they swayed, and after a moment Jessica realized that she was sort of . . . riding his thigh.

She tensed up for just a moment but Ben eased her even closer, splaying one hand against the small of her back and sliding the other up to the nape of her neck.

She let her head fall forward again. The friction between her legs was subtle but constant, and as Ben shifted with the music, twisting his hips and moving her with him, heat bloomed inside her. It started low in her belly and at the tops of her thighs and then spread through her whole body. A kind of tension coiled between her legs—tension that Ben had created in her and that only he could ease.

“Jessica?”

She lifted her head slowly, as though drugged. And she felt drugged, too—drugged on something ancient but new to her, something she’d never really felt before but that she knew was old as the hills.

Ben’s eyes were such a rich, warm brown . . . and now they were hot with desire, the same desire she was feeling. As she looked up at him she saw his pupils dilate until his eyes were almost black.

“Jessica?” he asked again.

“Yes?”

“Close your eyes.”

She did. Ben’s head dipped toward her as she let her own fall back, and when their mouths touched, the relief was so intense she moaned.

He pulled her tight against him, and she realized for the first time that he was hard for her.

They were in the middle of a room full of people and Ben was hard for her.

Maybe she should have been mortified, but all she felt was excitement. Ben urged her lips apart and she complied eagerly, longing for the invasion of his tongue.

His hands slid into her hair and she shivered all over. She looped her arms around his neck, tugging him down toward her, and relishing the way her breasts flattened against his chest.

She dragged her mouth from his, panting. “Let’s go back to the cottage,” she said.

He was breathing hard, too. “You sure?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

That made him smile, and he grabbed her hand as he pulled her off the dance floor. “Okay, then,” he said. “Never let it be said that I can’t take a subtle hint.”

They stumbled out of the lounge and into the lobby, where he tugged her into a dark corner and pressed her up against the wall.

“Tell me you want me.”

His voice was low and rough and so, so sexy.

“I want you,” she said, her own voice trembling. “Oh God, I want you so much.”

Her reward was another searing kiss, and then Ben grabbed her hand again and pulled her across the lobby to the doors.

Outside a cool breeze was blowing, but her cheeks—her whole body—felt blazing hot.

Suddenly she stopped.

“What is it?” Ben asked, turning toward her.

“Tell me you want me,” she said, echoing his words.

He gave a sharp tug on her wrist and then she was in his arms, pressed against him collarbones to thighs.

“I want you,” he said, gazing down at her. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman in my life. I’ve wanted you since I was too young to know what that meant. You were my first fantasy, Jess.”

Her heart was pounding. “I was?”

“Yeah. The first time I made myself come, you were right there with me.”

Her cheeks flamed, and she pressed her forehead to his chest. “Oh my God. Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” He slid a hand under her chin and urged her face up again, looking deep into her eyes. “You were the prettiest, sexiest girl I’d ever met, and you still are. So yeah, I want you.”

He took her hand and led her down the flagstone path toward their cottage, and even though she hadn’t had a drop of alcohol all day, she felt drunk.

This was happening. This was really happening.

They pulled out their key cards at the same time, and they both dropped them. Jessica started to laugh, feeling so good she was almost effervescent. Ben scooped up the cards and waved them in front of the reader.

And then, finally, they were inside.

Ben swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down on top of the covers.

“Hey,” she said, feeling suddenly shy as she looked up into his face.

“Hey,” he answered, supporting his weight on his arms as he looked down at her.

They stayed like that for a moment, desire crackling between them.

“Will you let me make love to you?”

She swallowed. “That’s what tonight is about. That’s what I want.”

He shook his head. “Tonight is about finding out what you like. But we’ve got a week left on this island, and I want to take full advantage of it. Tonight’s just act one.”

“What happens in act one?”

“You lie back and I make you come.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. That was probably the sexiest sentence she’d ever heard, but—

“Ben.”

“Yeah?”

“You should know that I don’t usually . . . that is, I’ve never come with someone before. I’ve faked it, but . . . I don’t want to do that with you.”

He lay down next to her and brushed her hair away from her face.

“Good,” he said. “I don’t want you to do that, either.” He paused. “Have you ever made yourself come?”

Talk about being direct.

Her cheeks flamed. “Yes,” she said.

“Good.” He leaned over and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “You only have one job tonight. If you don’t like something I’m doing, you let me know. And if you like something, you can let me know that, too.”

“Okay.” She paused. “What should I do first?”

He shook his head. “You weren’t listening, were you? I’m doing all the work. And the first thing I’m going to do is take off your clothes.”

She was trembling, but she managed to nod. Her blood was leaping with excitement, her heart hammering against her chest, but Ben seemed to be in no hurry.

He moved down the bed and slipped her sandals off first. Then he sat up and pulled her feet into his lap, running his thumbs over her arches until she made a soft sound of pleasure.

“I like that,” she said breathlessly.

He smiled at her. “Good. That’s what I’m going for. As far as telling me what you like, though—I have an addendum. If you don’t feel like talking, please know that I’ll accept a moan or gasp in lieu of words.”

He slid his hands up her legs and grasped the waistband of her pants, pulling them down and off.

Her breath caught in her chest and she was very glad she didn’t need to talk. She was also glad she was wearing pretty underwear. They were lavender satin and—

And Ben was about to get a look at the matching bra.

He was unbuttoning her blouse now, slowly, from the bottom to the top. When it was undone, it fell open, but before she had time to think about him looking at her bra, he slid a hand under her back and unhooked it. Then he was pulling her blouse and bra off together and tossing them aside, and before she knew what was happening, she was half-naked and he was looking at her breasts.

Her heart was pounding. Goose bumps prickled her skin and her nipples hardened, and Ben was seeing it happen.

Raw hunger and reverence came into his eyes. No man had ever looked at her like that, as though he wanted to worship her and devour her at the same time.

Then he lowered his head and covered one breast with his mouth and the other with his hand.

Her hands fisted in the sheets. There was too much sensation to process—his warm, wet mouth and the drag of his teeth and the rough way he handled her, pinching and rolling her nipple in his fingers and then squeezing and biting at the same time . . . too hard and yet not hard enough.

It’s too much,
she wanted to say.

But instead she arched her back to bring herself closer to him.

A current of electricity sparked from her breasts to the place that throbbed between her legs. And then, before she quite realized what was happening, Ben was kissing his way along that pathway of heat until he reached her panties.

Her legs had fallen open and his big body lay between them. His hands were splayed over her hips and his mouth—

Her muscles tensed and she rose up on her elbows. “Ben?”

He stopped immediately, looking up to meet her eyes. “You okay?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know. I mean . . . I feel . . . nervous.”

He moved back up the bed until he was lying next to her. “All right,” he said softly. “What are you nervous about?”

He reached out a hand to caress her hair, her face, her bare shoulder, and under his gentle touch she felt herself relaxing.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to be that, um, exposed.” She paused. “I’m sorry for ruining the mood.”

For a moment he just looked at her, his dark brown eyes full of heat and affection and lust and tenderness and a hundred other things she couldn’t identify. Then he slid both hands into her hair and pulled her against him for a hot, wet, open-mouthed kiss that left her quivering.

“How’s the mood now?” he asked. His voice was low and rich and husky, and it played along nerve endings she hadn’t known she possessed.

“Pretty good, actually,” she managed to say.

He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. “I don’t know if this will help, but I feel exposed, too.”

She stared at him. “You haven’t even taken off your clothes. How can you possibly feel exposed?”

“Because I want you so much.”

He rolled onto his back, and for the first time she saw the bulge straining against his pants. “If you want to even out the playing field in terms of clothes, I’m at your mercy.” His eyes glittered as he looked at her. “Just promise me you’ll be gentle.”

She rose up to a sitting position, looking down at him.

Anticipation tingled in her fingertips. Was this really going to happen? Was she really going to undress Ben Taggart?

Yes.

She started with his button-down shirt, taking her time and feeling a rush of excitement when it fell open. His breathing was ragged, his smooth, hard chest rising and falling with his breath, and when she leaned over to press a kiss against his breastbone, he groaned softly.

She kissed her way down his body as he’d done with her, and when she reached the waistband of his pants, she undid his button and his zipper and then pulled them off, letting them fall to the floor.

The only thing between them now was his boxers.

She wanted to touch the hard ridge of his erection. She reached out tentatively and then pulled her hand back, looking up and meeting his eyes.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

“I want to touch you,” she whispered. “Is that . . . do you want that, too?”

He closed his eyes briefly. “I want it so much I’m willing to beg.”

A flush of heat warmed her bare skin. “You don’t have to beg,” she said, leaning forward and putting her hand on the bulge beneath his underwear.

Ben made a low, desperate sound, and that made her feel bolder. She ran her hand up and down his hard length, feeling how much that excited him, and then she squeezed.

“
Jessica
.”

She loved the way he said her name—like a plea or a prayer. She took hold of his boxers and pulled them off, and then, in the grip of fevered desire, she knelt over Ben and took him into her mouth.

He shuddered from head to toe. “Jessica.
Jessica
.”