November 9: A Novel (13 page)

I want to laugh, because everything he just said feels like a weight has been removed from my chest and I’m breathing for the first time in three years.

Everything feels different. Newer. Like the air is buzzing, reminding me that I’m lucky to be here, breathing it in.

So I do just that. I take in a deep breath and I throw my arms around him, burying my head in the crevice of his neck and shoulder.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “You asshole.”

I feel him laughing, so I lie back down on my pillow and allow him to wipe more tears away. He’s looking down at me like I’m a beautiful mess, and I’m not going to allow myself to question that. Because I am. I’m a beautiful fucking mess and he’s lucky to be on top of me right now.

I slide my hands to his chest and feel his heart pounding through his shirt. It’s pounding as hard as mine is.

We lock eyes and he doesn’t ask permission when he dips his head and brushes my mouth with his. “Fallon, I’m worked up so damn tight. I’m going to kiss you now and I’m not sorry.”

And then his lips claim mine. My head is swimming, my body feels like it’s floating and I can’t move my arms. But I don’t have to, because he raises my hands above my head and interlocks our fingers, pushing them into the mattress. His tongue slides against mine and there’s so much feeling in it, it’s as if he’s kissing me the same way he looks at me. From the inside out.

He slowly plants kisses down my neck, keeping my hands secured to the bed, not allowing me to touch him back while he explores my skin.
God, I’ve missed him
. I’ve missed the way I feel when I’m with him. I wish I could have this every day. Once a year isn’t near enough.

The pressure on my right hand disappears as he runs his fingers down the length of my arm, all the way to my waist. His mouth has returned to mine and he’s kissing me again as his hand slowly begins to crawl inside my shirt. Just feeling his fingertips on my skin reminds me of why I think about him every night when my head meets my pillow.

“I’m taking off your shirt,” he says.

I don’t even hesitate.

I don’t even hesitate?

He pulls the shirt over my head and tosses it behind him. His eyes fall to my breasts, covered with a black lace bra that I was convinced he wouldn’t see tonight. He smiles a devilish smile, running his fingertips over the lace. He cups my right breast in his hand, dragging his thumb over the fabric covering my nipple. The second he does that, I flinch, because I’ve read enough books to know that the next move is going to be touching me
beneath
the fabric. My entire body tenses because I don’t think I want him to remove my bra. I don’t want him to see all of me. No one has ever seen all of me.

“Baby,” he says, sliding his lips across my chest. “Relax, okay?”

I could try, but now I’m tense because he called me baby and not because he’s about to go where no one has gone before.

I’ve always found that term of endearment to be a little grating, but it so works when he says it.

I thread my fingers through the back of his hair and guide him toward my left breast, wondering how this went from zero to ten in a matter of seconds.
Oh, God, he’s pulling down my bra strap
. His mouth is right there, trailing over the curve of my breast and his fingers are pulling the material lower . . . lower . . . lower . . .
gone.

I feel the air against my exposed breast, but my eyes are closed too tight to see the look on his face. But I can feel his lips as he kisses his way across my chest without hesitation, sliding his tongue against my skin, sucking and kissing and squeezing and . . .
enjoying.

“Fallon.”

He wants me to look at him, but I’m much more comfortable with my eyes closed.

“Open your eyes, Fallon.”

I can do this.

I open my eyes and I’m staring up at the ceiling.

I can do this.

I slowly bring my gaze down until I’m looking him in the eyes. “You’re beautiful. Every inch of you is so beautiful.” He presses his lips between my breasts and then drags them slowly across my skin, running his tongue over my scars. I wait for him to make an excuse . . . to back away from me.

But he doesn’t. He grins up at me instead. “Are you okay? Can I keep going?”

My first inclination is to shake my head, because I shouldn’t want him to. Any time I’ve imagined this happening with a guy in the past, I picture myself with a perfect body and no scars. But here I am, staring down at Ben as he explores every part of me I’ve wished were different. And he’s actually enjoying it.

And . . . so am I.

I nod, and maybe moan again because
holy shit he looks hot
. The fact that I’m the reason for that heated look in his eyes makes me feel even more desirable than when I imagine being perfect. He kisses his way back up my neck until he’s hovering over me. He slides a hand to the nape of my neck and dips his head.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to slow myself down when I’m with you.”

But not only does he slow himself down. He stops completely, because the door to his bedroom swings open.

Ben lies on top of me in a flash, covering me, but he isn’t fast enough for me to miss the girl standing in the doorway, wide-eyed.

Oh, God. The door. A girl.

“Ben?” she says.

I think I might panic.

“Can we have a minute, Jordyn?” Ben says, without looking back at her.

The door quickly slams shut and a muffled apology comes from the other side of it. “Sorry! Oh, wow,
so
sorry!”

Her reaction isn’t that of a pissed-off girlfriend, so that fills me with relief. It does little to relieve my embarrassment, though.

“I’m so sorry,” Ben says. “I had no idea she was home.” He gives me a quick peck on the mouth and then lifts up. “Don’t worry. This is way more embarrassing for her than it is for us.”

I pull my bra back up over my breasts and I sit up on the bed. “Speak for yourself.”

Ben retrieves my shirt from the foot of the bed and returns to me, helping me pull it over my head. He’s grinning.

“It’s not funny,” I whisper.

He laughs quietly. “If you knew Jordyn, you’d know that this is actually hilarious.”

I feel out of the loop and it isn’t until this moment that I realize how very little I actually know about Ben. “Is she your sister?”

“She will be in a few days,” he says, answering me as he slips on his shoes. “She’s marrying my brother Kyle this weekend. They’re having the wedding out back.”

He has a brother?

I’m reminded of how little I actually know about his family.

“The wedding is here? Do they live here?”

He nods. “My brothers and I inherited the house after my mom died. We all live here since there’s plenty of space. My older brother travels a lot, so he’s gone more than he’s here, though. Kyle and Jordyn share the master bedroom downstairs.”

I don’t know why I assumed Ben was an only child. And I had no idea his mother passed away. I feel like this guy whose mouth was just devouring my breasts is a complete stranger. He must see the confusion and embarrassment still on my face, so he leans over me and smiles reassuringly. “We’ll play twenty questions later and you’ll know almost everything about me. As boring as my life is. But for now, I want you to meet my future sister.” He pulls on my hands until I’m standing. I put my shoes back on and follow him out of the bedroom. We get to the top of the stairs and he stops and gives me the sweetest, softest kiss before continuing his descent to find Jordyn.

Blame it on the fact that I’m a sucker for romance novels, but I’ve been convinced that the grander the gesture, the greater the love. Some of my favorite scenes from the books I read are those pivotal points in the arc of the story when the guy declares his love for the girl in a huge way. But the way this one little kiss from Ben just left me feeling, I think I’ve been overlooking the best parts of romance novels. Maybe the grand gestures don’t matter nearly as much as all the inconsequential things between the two main characters.

It makes me want to go back and reread everything I’ve ever read, now that I’m experiencing these things with someone in real life.

“I’m so sorry,” someone is saying as Ben pulls me into the kitchen. “I had no idea you were home and I was looking for scissors but you
are
home and she’s
definitely
not a pair of scissors.”

She’s cute. Shorter than me, California-blond hair and a face that can’t hide a single emotion. Because right now, just looking at her, I can tell she’s about to crack.

“Jordyn, this is Fallon,” Ben says, gesturing toward me.

I wave and Jordyn immediately crosses the room and hugs me. “Nice to meet you, Fallon. Don’t be embarrassed, it’s perfectly normal for Ben to have girls in his room.”

I cut my eyes to Ben and he lifts his hands in defense like he has no idea why she just said that. I lift my palms up in a “help me” gesture, because she’s clinging tight and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Ben clears his throat and Jordyn finally releases me.

“Oh God, that totally came out wrong,” she says, shaking out her hands. “It’s not
normal
for him to have girls in his room. Not at all what I meant,” she says. “I just mean it’s nothing to be ashamed of, we’re all adults. I wasn’t implying that you’re one of many. In fact, he rarely ever brings girls here so that’s why I didn’t think twice before walking into his room, because it’s so rare I never thought he’d actually be
in
there. With you. With a girl.” She’s pacing now, and every time I catch a glimpse of her face, she looks on the verge of tears. I’ve never seen anyone more in need of a hug than she is right now.

I walk over to her and she stops pacing. I place both of my hands on her shoulders. I take a deep, exaggerated breath, straightening my posture. She copies the movement, dragging air into her lungs. I calmly exhale, and she follows suit. I smile. “It’s okay, Jordyn. Ben and I are absolutely fine. But you look like you could use a drink. Or ten.”

She nods feverishly and then slaps her hand over her mouth as soon as the tears come.

Oh, Jesus. What now? I look to Ben for help, but he’s looking at me like this is completely normal behavior for her. He does make his way toward her though, turning her around to face him.

“Hey,” Ben says soothingly, pulling her into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, pointing toward another room. “The placeholders came and half of them are spelled wrong and the tables and chairs were supposed to be here this morning, but they moved delivery to tomorrow and tomorrow doesn’t work because tomorrow is when I’m supposed to have my last fitting and now I have to be here for the delivery and my mom’s flight was canceled so she can’t help me finish the flower arrangements tonight and . . .”

Ben cuts her off. “Calm down,” he says. He motions toward the refrigerator, so I walk to the kitchen and find a half-full bottle of wine. I pour Jordyn a glass while Ben calms her down. When I hand it to her, she’s sitting on a bar stool, wiping at her tears.

“Thank you,” she says as she takes the wine. “I’m normally not this crazy or high-strung but it’s the worst week of my life. And I know it’ll be worth it in the end but . . .” She eyes me hard. “Never get married. Ever. Unless you go to Vegas.”

I make it look like I’m soaking in her advice, but her stress level is enough to make anyone not look forward to a wedding.

“Wait,” she says, pointing at me. “Your name is Fallon? As in Fallon O’Neil?”

Oh, no. It’s not often I get recognized from the show, but when it does happen, it’s usually by girls who are about Jordyn’s age. Girls who probably watched the show religiously.

“You aren’t the actress who used to star on that detective show, are you?”

Ben’s arm goes around my shoulder like he’s proud of that fact. “She sure is.”

“No way!” she says. “I used to watch that show all the time! Well, until they replaced you with that one chick who couldn’t act worth a flip.”

That comment makes me feel good. I couldn’t bring myself to watch the show after I was replaced, but I won’t lie and say I wasn’t a little relieved that it went off the air two seasons later due to a drop in ratings.

“Why did you quit the show?” she says. And then, “Oh. Wait, I remember. You were injured, right? Is that where you got the scars from?”

I can feel Ben’s arm immediately tense. “Jordyn,” he says.

I appreciate that he’s attempting to intercept the conversation for my sake, but it’s hard to be offended by Jordyn when it’s obvious she’s just curious and not at all judging.

“It’s fine,” I say, as soon as she looks like she’s about to apologize. “It was an unfortunate accident, and it sucked that I had to quit the show. But I’m grateful I survived. It could have been a lot worse.”

I feel Ben press a kiss against the side of my head, and I assume it’s because he appreciates that the encouraging words he said to me upstairs might have actually sunk in.

The front door slams and everyone’s attention shifts from the conversation about my career to the sound of a man’s voice.

“Where’s my little bitch?” he calls out.

Oh, lord. I hope this isn’t the groom.

“Ian’s home,” Ben says. He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the living room. “Come meet my big brother.”

I follow Ben into the living room to see a man kneeling down by the front door, petting a little white dog. “There’s my little bitch,” he says sweetly to the dog. As sweet as that sentence can sound, anyway.

“Look what the cat flew in,” Ben says, getting the guy’s attention.

It isn’t until Ian stands up that I notice he’s in a pilot’s uniform. Ben immediately motions toward me. I’m not gonna lie, meeting new people is awkward enough. But meeting Ben’s family is a whole new level of awkward.

“Ian, this is Fallon. Fallon, Ian.”

Ian immediately steps forward and grabs my hand, shaking it. He and Ben look so much alike, I can’t help but stare. He’s got Ben’s strong jaw and they have the same mouth, but Ian is slightly taller and has blond hair.