Bennett (On the Line Book 2) (9 page)

“Smells better than a virgin’s cooter in here,” James said, inhaling dramatically.

“Eww. I thought you had to leave,” I said, stirring the chicken fajita mix I’d made.

“I’m supposed to meet my date at six, but I want to be fashionably late.”

“That’s not fashionable. It’s rude.”

“Chicks dig assholes, Charlotte.” James moved his hand toward the skillet on the stove and I smacked it away.

“You should get going,” I said, wishing he’d take a hint.

I’d decided to make amends with Bennett not just by having dinner with him, but by cooking it. And nothing would kill a good evening faster than my roommate.

There was a knock at the door, and I groaned inwardly as James went to answer it. I glanced around the corner as he opened the door for Bennett.

“Wassup, Baby Daddy?” He grinned and put out his fist for a bump. “You plannin’ to tap dat ass tonight?”

“Be respectful of Charlotte or we’re gonna have a problem,” Bennett said with a growl. “And you can call me Bennett.”

James dropped his fist. “Whatevs, bro.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

James turned to me with a dirty look before dropping his head and walking out the door.

“That guy’s a fuckin’ idiot,” Bennett said. “I don’t know how you can stand living with him.”

“I wear headphones a lot.”

He set the bag he was carrying on the kitchen counter and reached inside.

“Brought you something,” he said, taking out a round cake from a bakery. It was decorated with white frosting and edged half in pink and half in blue. A “2” was also half pink and half blue.

“Looks good,” I said, smiling up at him.

“Thought we’d celebrate your second trimester.”

He smelled really good—that combination of leather and light cologne I remembered from our one night together. And as always, he looked good, the definition of his muscles showing through the long-sleeved T-shirt he wore. It was making me envision other ways we could celebrate. Ways that didn’t involve cake. Unless . . .

I could lick that frosting off your chest
, I wanted to say.
Maybe put some on my inner thighs for you?

I’d noticed some changes with the end of the first trimester of my pregnancy. The sickness had vanished, but now I was in a constant state of horniness. I’d had to resort to self-love, which creeped me out with James in the next room. I was always completely silent, and I
always
fantasized about Bennett.

“You okay?” he asked.

My cheeks warmed and I forced myself to look away from him.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just fantasizing about that cake.”

“Well, let’s grub and then we can do more than fantasize. Smells like you cooked something good.”

Smelled like leather and cologne to me. I leaned a little closer and breathed him in.

“You smelling me?” he asked, puzzled.

“Yeah, it’s . . . I’m just trying to place that cologne.”

“It’s Dolce and Gabbana The One. Like it?”

“I love it,” I admitted.

Our eyes met for a couple seconds. Bennett leaned a hip against the counter, and I imagined what it would feel like to be pinned against that counter by his hips, his body pressed against mine.

“I made chicken fajitas,” I said, clearing my throat. “It’s ready so I’ll get some plates.”

“Thanks for cooking dinner.”

“Sure. It was nice to have an excuse not to work late for once.”

His gaze followed me as I took plates from a cabinet, got out two forks, and went to the fridge for cheese and sour cream. I liked the way it felt to be looked over by him.

“What would you think about coming to my game Friday night?” he asked. “I can get you good seats. Bring a friend if you want. We could hang out after.”

“Um . . . that sounds fun, but what if Liam sees me?”

“Tell him you came to watch him play. His ego’s massive enough to believe it.”

I smiled. “True. Okay, I will.”

He carried the dishes of food over to the table, set them down, and then looked at me like he was about to say something. Instead, he went back to the counter and grabbed the two glasses of water I’d poured.

“What?” I asked. “Were you about to say something?”

His smile was almost shy this time. “Yeah. I was gonna ask if I could touch your tummy again.”

“My
tummy
?” I said, laughing.

“Sorry.” His cheeks reddened a bit. “When your mom’s a pediatrician, you pick up words like that.”

“Touch away,” I said.
And feel free to let those hands roam up or down, too.

“Yeah?” He put the glasses on the table and walked over to me.

He slipped a hand beneath my shirt and onto my belly. The feel of his warm, bare skin on mine had my heart dancing wildly in my chest. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he rubbed my belly gently.

“Can you feel it kicking yet?” he asked softly.

“No. In a few more weeks, I should be able to.”

“Your cheeks are all rosy. You’ve got the glow, Charlotte. You’re beautiful.”

It wasn’t the glow of pregnancy that had me feeling flushed right now, but his touch. And the way he was looking at me like I was the only woman in the world wasn’t hurting either.

“All women are beautiful when they’re pregnant,” I said.

“I guess. Not like you, though.”

My mind was at war. Half of it wanted to grab his shirt and pull him against me for a kiss that would hopefully be the start of a night just like our first one together. But the other half knew he was the last man I should scratch my itch with. We needed to be on good terms for the next eighteen-and-a-half years or so. If we had sex, I’d develop feelings. And those feelings would admittedly be volatile. I knew myself well enough to know I’d miss him, wonder what he was doing on the road, and take out my worries on him when he was home. There was a reason my only relationship in the past six years had been with Riley, who liked a predictable routine of sex on Friday nights, short dinners together a few other nights, and nothing else.

“Guess we should eat while dinner’s hot,” Bennett said, taking his hand out from beneath my shirt.

I almost said,
“No.”
More like,
“NOOOO!!!”
actually. I wanted him to keep touching me. There were so many places I craved his hands on me. But I knew he was right.

“Hope you’re hungry,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I made a shitload of food.”

Bennett smiled. “I like how much you sound like your brother. He doesn’t hold back.”

“Yeah, holding back’s not my strong suit,” I admitted.

We sat down across from each other at my small, beat-up oak kitchen table.

“So you guys were raised by a single mom, right?” Bennett asked.

“Yeah.” I passed him the tortilla warmer and he took out a couple. “Our dad left Mom for one of his girlfriends when Liam was six and I was four.”

“Damn.
One
of his girlfriends?”

“Yep. My mom didn’t think she deserved any better.”

“Are you guys still close to her?”

“Not really. She lives in upstate New York with her third husband. We talk on the phone sometimes, but that’s about it. Liam and I find her high tolerance for bullshit frustrating.”

Bennett finished the bite he was chewing and then pointed at his plate with his fork. “This is really good.”

“Thanks. So who does the cooking at your place, you or Liam?”

“Him. That bastard’s so Type A about the kitchen and dishes that I don’t even touch ’em.”

“Yeah, he did a lot of the cooking and we both did a lot of the cleaning growing up because Mom was working two jobs.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy.” Bennett gave me a serious look. “I’d do anything for him. I’d never deliberately mess with a teammate’s sister, but Liam . . . he’s more like a brother to me. That’s why I deserve the ass-beating I’ll be getting from him.”

“I was the one who messed with you. You didn’t even want to get with me that night.”

Bennett arched his brows and laughed. “Oh, I wanted to. I just wasn’t sure you were in the right state of mind, you know?”

“I was.”

We ate in silence for a minute before I spoke again. “Have you ever
not
gotten with a woman you wanted?”

The corners of his mouth turned up with amusement. “Sure.”

“Why not?”

“Ah, you know,” he said, shrugging. “I’d find out they were married or involved.”

“Do you and my brother ever share women?” I blurted. “Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. That’s too much grossness.”

“No. I’m not having you wonder about that. Never. I’m not into that.”

“Do you hope we have a boy or a girl?”

He shook his head and laughed. “You’re the most random subject-changer ever.”

“That’s true.”

“I don’t care. Honestly, I’ll be happy with either one. I’m gonna have a little hockey stick in my hand for the baby when it comes out, boy or girl.”

I laughed at the image.

“Will it be okay if I’m in the delivery room with you?” he asked. “Whether you’re seeing someone else or not?”

His brow was creased with worry. I’d gotten lucky with my choice in one-night stands. This was a man who was doing right by our child in every way so far.

“Of course. And I’d never let a man I was dating who wasn’t the father of the kid be in there.” I went to take a bite of food but then put my fork down and continued. “Also, I’m not up for dating right now, so it’s not even an issue. It doesn’t feel right. I just want to concentrate on the baby.”

“Good. Me too.”

We finished dinner and he helped me clear the dishes. I went to the spot where the cake was perched on the kitchen counter and took the lid off. The sweet smell of frosting had my full attention until I felt Bennett’s warm presence behind me.

I could chatter about how good the cake looked and smelled and ask him to grab some plates for us. Or . . .

I turned around slowly and looked up at him. His eyes were locked on mine. My heart was doing its fast-paced dance again, making me a little light-headed. I leaned back against the counter just as Bennett put his palms on it, trapping me in his closeness.

He leaned in and my breath caught in my throat.

“Um . . . I’ve got onion breath,” I whispered.

“So do I,” he said with a half smirk. “It cancels out if we’ve both got it.”

“Okay . . . I’ll buy that.”

He brushed his knuckles across my cheek and leaned a little closer. I put my hand on the back of his neck, its solid feel making my knees slightly unsteady.

“So the no-dating thing . . . that applies to me, too?” he asked in a low tone.

“It . . . does,” I said, not sounding remotely convincing.

“Damn. I think about you, Charlotte,” he said softly. “All the time. I think about that night. Your body, and the way you sounded and felt and tasted.”

My inner thighs tingled and I warmed all over. “I do, too,” I admitted.

“Yeah? Just remember I’m here for you. In every way.”

Holy hell. Every nerve ending in my body was aware of his closeness. He dipped his face down and brushed his lips across my neck. I shuddered and let out a breath, and he kissed my neck all the way this time, his mouth finding all the spots that made me shiver.

“How exactly do you define
dating
?” he said in my ear.

I hummed my amusement and wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my curves against his large, rock-hard frame. Just like the night of our first encounter, I couldn’t think about anything but him. Judgment wasn’t even a thing right now. All I wanted was more of him.

“We could take that cake into the bedroom,” I said.

“Hell yeah, we could,” he answered against my neck.

He leaned back and looked at me, a fire burning in his eyes. We wanted each other just as much as we had that first night, and we were both stone cold sober right now.

The sound of the front door opening made my mouth drop open in horror.

“I’m home, guys!” James called. “Cover up your junk!”

Bennett groaned with disgust.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“Hey,” James said, grinning at us as he walked into the kitchen. “You guys want to hang out? My blind date had to cut the evening short because her cat had a panic attack.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s . . . unfortunate.”

“Yeah. She pretty much ran from the restaurant when she got the text. Hadn’t even finished her food yet.”

“Huh,” Bennett said, meeting my eyes. “Imagine that.”

“Yeah. So I was thinking we could play Monopoly. Or Call of Duty.” He leaned to the side and looked behind me. “Cake? Hellz yeah, let’s break that mother out.”

I sighed deeply and cursed James. Yet again.