The Good Enough Husband (11 page)

Sensation replaced reality, and rational thought started slipping away from her. Oh, God, she was going to come. The thought came only seconds before the feeling. The low moan of satisfa
ction escaped her. Her elbows went out from under her, and she tumbled back on the bed.

“Ben, I,” she started. He shushed her with a finger against her lips. He needed no explanation. “Always, ladies first,” he said by way of understanding.

He pulled her fully up onto the bed, resting her head on the pillows. Hand thrown over her eyes to shade them from the light, she watched Ben fully undress while her breathing evened. His nude form did not disappoint. His broad shoulders narrowed into a taut waist. He had the right amount of dark hair on his chest that arrowed down to his penis, thick with arousal. He turned away for a moment to open a bedside drawer, and she was rewarded with a view of his taut backside. When he turned back, it was with a foil packet in hand.

Thank goodness he had enough brain for the both of them. She hadn’t thought about birth control for years. The fated phone call from Michael came back to her. She shook her head, clearing out the wayward thoughts.

Eyes narrowed in concern, he said, “What are you thinking?”

“I have on too many clothes. Help me, Ben.”

Expertly, he unhooked her bra and carelessly tossed aside the expensive frill. She lifted her hips obligingly, and he tugged at the sequined straps of her briefs, sliding the damp silk along her legs.

“We’re even,” he said in a voice made gravelly by passion. He ran a finger down the cords of her neck, along her collarbone, ci
rcling one straining nipple. “God, you’re damn near perfect,” Ben said before kissing her again. Their bodies came together in the age-old mating dance. He leaned over her, bracing his weight on his arms. Their legs intertwined. His cock pressed against her insistently. She couldn’t resist the urge to grind against him like an out of control teenager. The friction of his erection against her sensitive flesh made sweat break out on her upper lip. Reluctantly leaving her mouth, Ben kissed his way down her body. After a few hot, sucking kisses on her neck, he molded her breasts in his hands and took each nipple in his mouth in turn. His tongue played against each peak, pushing her to rub against his erection, with each stroke of his tongue. The kisses continued down her stomach, and she shivered with anticipation as he came close to her core. One of Ben’s hands remained on her breasts, flicking the turgid nipple. The other parted her nether lips before his exploring tongue and lips gave her the most intimate of kisses.

Her hips bucked of their own volition. “Ben, I…” Hannah didn’t finish her thought as a second orgasm came over her as su
ddenly as the ocean waves that crashed outside.

Utterly spent, she laid back. Her chest rose and fell, mocking her. The movement did nothing to give her enough oxygen to catch her breath. But Ben wasn’t done. She saw him ripping at the co
ndom wrapper with his teeth and sheathing himself. As he rolled the thin latex over his erection, she realized she’d never been so turned on by a man protecting her.

He leaned down for one last kiss. “Can I…are you?”

God knows she was more than ready. Grabbing his penis at the base, Hannah urged their joining. With her invitation, her acquiescence, he plunged into her. He nearly pulled all the way out before sliding back in slowly. She didn’t need slow. She wanted this quick and hard.

“Hannah, I want to go slow. I want to make this good for you.” He had to be kidding. It couldn’t be any better. She took control then, flipping him over on his back. Leaning her hand against the middle of his chest, she rose and fell against him, quickening their pace. When his breathing quickened, she leaned in and rubbed her lips against his as slowly as she could. She knew when he’d lost control and he lifted up to meet her every down stroke until he exploded. She continued until she met her own smaller release. Spent, she collapsed on his chest, their hot breath mingling in the air.

“Hannah, I have to…” Ben said, gesturing to the bathroom. She eased off him and laid on top of the soft duvet she’d scarcely noticed before. She hadn’t really taken in much about the room, but it was all him. He’d successfully mixed the wood paneling that covered the lower half of every room in the house with a leather covered headboard, and a matching club chair. The duvet and pillows were charcoal and navy striped. She wondered if he realized that his bedding matched his stormy eyes. Ben came back, cleaned up, his flaccid penis no less impressive as it lay against its nest of chestnut brown hair. Her fingers itched to touch him, bring him to hardness again, and release with her hands, her mouth, her breasts, anything that would give him the pleasure he’d given her. Two months ago Hannah would have gladly never looked at, tasted, or touched another penis. What had she been thinking? She’d finally had the best sex of her life. She could do this again, and again, forever. She’d thought with age went passion. How could she have been so wrong?

***

Hannah made room for him, and Ben laid down on the linen duvet, throwing his hands over his eyes. Jesus. Fuck. Masturbation was way overrated. For a fleeting moment, he wished he were fourteen instead of forty. He wanted to do it again, right now. But he’d have to wait for the battery to recharge. No way was he giving up this woman. He needed to know everything he could about her. They had to make this thing work somehow, even with him up here and her in Orange County. He didn’t want to talk logistics right now, though.

“Did you sing?” he asked instead of a question that could scare her away.

Hannah rolled onto her side, facing him, expectantly. Propping herself up on her elbow, she answered. “I did.” She was completely unselfconscious. He hated to think of Samara, but his ex-wife constantly covered up. He liked Hannah’s confidence in her body. He tried to be gentlemanly and not stare, but it was hard. Her parents’ heritage had produced skin that looked permanently tanned. The swell of her breasts were tipped with small brown nipples that were still semi-erect. What little body hair she had was the lightest brown, like her hair. He settled for twining one long leg with his.

Instead of telling her how beautiful she was, and how much he wanted to run his hands up and down her lithe form, he shifted back to her music. “What did you sing?”

“I guess the best description would be blues or jazz. I’ve been described as Queen Latifah meets Bessie Smith.”

“Why don’t you sing anymore?”

Hannah propped two pillows behind her and leaned against the leather headboard. She finally became aware of her nudity or the chill in the air, and pulled the duvet over her bent knees, and tucked it under her arms. “I grew up wanting to be a singer and songwriter like my dad. I spent a lot of time in clubs with my father. He played piano and bass, but I was never much for playing an instrument. I admired the singers. They all had these smoky voices, beautiful dresses, and a way of holding an audience in the palm of their hands. My dad let me sing from time to time, and I loved it. My mom wanted me to go to college, though, and not right into the business after high school. So I compromised and majored in music. I did voice and piano.”

He touched her shoulder gently. “You still haven’t told me why you don’t sing now. Photography and singing are both artistic, I guess, but worlds apart to me.”

“My mom divorced my dad because he abandoned the marriage for his music. It would’ve hurt her too much for me to follow in Dad’s footsteps. It was hard to watch the other night, fighting the urge to jump up on the stage.” Hannah’s voice got quiet. “Not that I would have been welcome.”

Ben turned down the light a notch, and burrowed under the covers, gathering her in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to
feel her skin against his. Eventually, Cody even made it into the room, sniffing around and intimating that he wanted to jump on the bed. Ben pointed to the floor where the dog curled reluctantly. He didn’t want to share the bed with anyone other than Hannah.

He knew he probably shouldn’t ask the question. All of the men’s magazines he’d skimmed before they made it from the mailbox to the waiting room advised against it, but he couldn’t help himself. After all, they’d already started this relationship ass backwards. She knew all about Samara, and she’d met his parents way too soon. Why would any man want to leave Hannah if they didn’t have to?

“Why did you divorce your ex?”

Hannah went from soporific to alert in a few seconds. “Do you have a robe I can borrow? I want to take Cody out for a quick pee.”

“You stay put. I’ll do it.” It was the least he could do for her. How did a guy thank a woman for the best sex he’d had in two years? He pulled a gray velour terry robe from the bathroom door, throwing it around himself, belting the waist. He hunted some flip-flops from the nearly empty closet, and ushered the dog out.

Irrationally, he feared that Hannah wouldn’t be there when he got back in the house, trailing cool, damp air behind him. But after he gave the dog some water, he found her wrapped in a throw, the color of early morning fog, by the fire. Only her head with its muss of straightened hair and hot pink toenails were bared.

“Are you cold?”

She looked at him over her shoulder. The golden highlights of her hair shimmered in the dying firelight. And he had thought of
passing up this woman because he was bitter about his ex? Afraid of trusting? He was never so glad to be pursued.

“It was chilly in there without you, Ben.”

That husky voice made him want to rip off his robe and take her right there, but his body craved sleep. Good sex always did that to him. He banked the fire, and gathered her in his arms, the throw slipping unconsciously from her shoulders. He couldn’t resist one kiss, which quickly became two or three. Before he knew it, he was walking her back against the wall. He slipped a hand down her back, and cupped her butt in his hand, lifting her leg to rest on his hip. The slickness he found there practically begged for his touch. Hannah was so responsive, he couldn’t resist, sliding the pad of his thumb along her clit, using the moisture he found there as lubrication. As he knew they would, her husky moans quickly escalated until she was coming apart in his arms. Despite his exhaustion, he could feel himself flying at more than half-mast. He leaned her against the roughhewn wood and rocks that surrounded the fireplace. Without preamble, he pulled open his robe, and lifted her other leg, impaling her. He knew that having come earlier, he could ride her this way for a long time.

Hannah’s head was thrown back. Her cheeks were flushed, her full lips open, her tongue darting out to wet her parched mouth. When he thought he could go on forever like this, he realized with a jolt than he’d forgotten to sheath himself. He pulled out abruptly.

“Hannah, hon, please look at me.” Her unfocused eyes slowly cleared, looking at him with confusion. “I forgot to get a condom.”

That sobered Hannah completely. “Ben, I’m not on anything. I wasn’t planning…”

He looked down at his quickly deflating member. “I think we’re okay, but maybe we should go to bed…and sleep.”

She nodded, walking to the bedroom. “Do you have something I can sleep in?”

It was a good idea. If their bodies didn’t touch, maybe they could prevent a repeat of what had almost happened back in the living room. He pulled his favorite vet school t-shirt from a dresser drawer. Threadbare, it was the shirt he liked the most. He fished out some novelty boxers he never wore – a tacky souvenir from a bachelor party – patterned with lipstick kisses and handed them both to her. She excused herself and went to the bathroom to change.

Scrubbed clean, and smelling of soap and minty toothpaste, with her hair scraped into some kind of braid, Hannah looked more attractive than she ever had with all the sparkly clothing, carefully coifed hair, and artfully applied makeup.

Before he turned out the light, he tugged at her braid. “You look beautiful like this.” He snapped off the bedside lamp and spooned her from behind, cupping her soft breast in his hand. He missed sleeping like this against a warm, satisfied woman.

***

In the last throes of a deep sleep, Hannah felt a large hand shaking her awake.

“Michael?” What did he need now? Was her temperature up?

“Hannah?” She opened her eyes a tiny bit. Ben Cooper was in her bed. Instantly alert, she realized where she was—good, and what she’d said—bad.

She sat up. “What time is it?” Shocked by the cold air on her skin, Hannah slid back down and was about to pull the covers back up over her sleepy head when Ben stopped her.

“Do you want to go see the sunrise on the black sand beach? It’s really special this time of year.”

Peering closely at Ben, Hannah saw nothing but sincerity on his ruggedly handsome face. Maybe he hadn’t heard her call M
ichael’s name.

Shivers ran through her as she imagined rubbing her palms along his darkly stubbled jaw. The idea of curling up closely with this man anywhere was an unexpected treat.

“I’m game.”

Realizing Ben was already dressed, she hauled her sleep heavy limbs out of bed. While he put on hiking boots, she put on the clothes from last night he’d neatly folded on a chair. Hannah ha
ppily took the down jacket proffered by Ben. In her attempt to be cute the night before a warm jacket hadn’t seemed important.

While Ben drove, she pulled her braid apart. If her hair was going to go curly, she at least wanted it all to be the same. They pulled onto the side of the road and parked. This cove was much better than the one she’d found the other day. Instead of black pe
bbles of various sizes, this was actual fine black sand like she’d once walked on during her honeymoon in Maui. Ben laid out a waterproof blanket on a sand dune. She sat and he handed her the throw she’d been wrapped in last night. His own was a large white cable knit blanket that looked like it had been hand knit by a kindly relative.