His eyes caught mine and a lazy smile lit up his face. My body temperature ratcheted up several degrees.
Moments later, Ben turned and disappeared back behind the white curtain concealing the small changing area. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and though I knew I shouldn’t let it distract me from work, I pulled it out to see who was texting me.
To my surprise, it was Ben.
Ben: I can’t stop thinking about how good you taste.
My cheeks flamed bright red as I shielded my phone and peeked around me. No one was paying any attention to me, but that was beside the point. He couldn’t just text me things like that. We were at work.
Ben: Come back here, babe. I want that pretty pussy.
Holy shit! Was he crazy?
Me: No way! You’ll get us both in trouble. Go change into your next outfit.
Ben: Just a little taste.
I should have typed back
no,
been firm and resolute, but instead I just replied:
Later
.
My heart hammered away at my ribs as I watched my phone, waiting for his reply. I was astounded by the things he wrote me. He normally seemed so polite and well mannered. But I secretly liked that he had a filthy fucking mouth. Thankfully, my phone stayed silent for the time being.
A moment later, Fiona dug her smartphone from her purse, answering it loudly, interrupting the poor model walking for her and the YSL reps. Fiona cupped a hand over the mouthpiece of her phone and tried to speak privately in the not-at-all-private room. “I can’t come back there right now, love.” She sighed heavily. “Did you sleep last night? Hmm . . . are you coming down with something?” She listened for a moment then added, “Hang tight. I’ll send in Emmy.”
Fiona turned to me, shoving the phone back in her giant bag. “It’s Ben. He’s feeling flat knackered. Early mornings are not his thing.”
I didn’t mention that it was already after 11 a.m.; I merely nodded.
“Go bring him pain reliever and some water, dear.” She shooed me with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Sure.” I hopped from my chair, grabbed my purse, and headed back behind the curtain, ready to give him a piece of my mind. This was some little ploy to get me back here, and he was using Fiona to do it. He was going to get us both in trouble. I didn’t know whether to be mad, nervous, excited, or horny.
When I spotted him, he was standing casually near the back, his eyes already pinned on mine. His eyebrow quirked up and he raked his gaze boldly down my body, stopping at my chest. He smiled just slightly. My sex muscles clenched. That cleared up the horny part. But geez, we couldn’t do this now. Was he crazy?
Approaching him, I stopped at arm’s length. “We can’t do this, Ben. Fiona will fire me so fast, I’ll be on the next plane out of here. . . .”
“Never going to happen.” The cool authority in his voice made my stomach flip.
Ben
Emmy looked all proper in her pressed khaki pants and button-down shirt. It made me want to mess her up and leave her looking thoroughly fucked. Claimed. It was twisted, I know.
I never really thought I could get a normal girl. They all wanted me for my persona—what they saw on the outside. The supermodel they thought I was. I didn’t feel like that guy. Which is why I liked that Emmy seemed to see beyond it all. Part of it was because I’d let her in—told her things about me I rarely told anyone. Things only Fiona knew. I’d been around enough women to know that the way Emmy affected me was different.
Sure, I had physical needs that I satisfied but I was never stupid enough to believe it was love when they looked at me. Some would profess their devotion, swear they loved me, but I wondered if they could even see past the designer-labeled clothes. Emmy saw through all that and directly into the real me. She leveled me with her humanity, her realness. She’d pushed me to be more open, taken care of me on and off set, been my advocate simply because it was the right thing to do. She had an open-faced belief that the world was a good place and that people could be trusted. It was refreshing, especially in this business. She wouldn’t be changed simply because she’d gotten a job in an industry where looks were everything. From what I’d seen, she was the type to stay true to herself. I realized with absolute clarity, I respected the hell out of her.
I stepped toward her, closing the distance she’d purposefully left between us. “Do you trust me?” I could still remember her smell, her taste, the little whimpering sounds she made last night. She was fucking delicious and I wanted more.
She swallowed, visibly shaken, but gave a tiny nod. It was enough. I took her hand and pulled her behind the partition that separated off a small area for changing. There was a dude behind there buttoning up a shirt. I tossed him a look that he accurately read as
Get the fuck out
. He made a hasty retreat. Smart guy. Because I was three seconds away from having Emmy’s panties around her ankles, and no one was going to see her bare little pussy but me. I wanted to smell her, taste her, devour her. Never had a girl gotten under my skin so completely. I had to have her.
The expression on her face was a mix of panic and curiosity. She bit down, burying her teeth in her bottom lip, and met my eyes. She did trust me. I saw that. And she was worried how far I’d push her.
Fuck.
I wouldn’t betray her trust by doing something she wasn’t sure about. She took her job seriously, and now I’d lured her back here for sex. Shit. My hard-on would have to wait.
Sorry, buddy.
“Later, okay? You’re mine.”
She looked up into my eyes, her face awash with relief. “Yes,” she confirmed. “Later.”
The promise of later would have to be enough to get me through the next few hours.
13
Emmy
It was eight o’clock when I made it back to the hotel, and I was exhausted. My body was fighting this European schedule, and Fiona’s ridiculous demands kept me running. But Ben’s text said to come straight to his room and to come hungry.
When I arrived at his door, he planted a tender kiss on my lips and pulled me inside.
“I listened to the CD you made me.”
“And?”
“I loved it. Thank you.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his expression truly grateful.
I sensed this was a new side of him, a softer, sweeter Ben, and I liked it. I didn’t know what had changed between us but he was clearly letting me into his world.
I noticed a room service cart with various platters covered with silver domes. “Breakfast in bed okay?” he asked.
“Breakfast? For dinner?” I loved the idea, but it was a little unusual.
“Since I didn’t get to take you out to breakfast like you wanted this morning.”
I didn’t realize it before, but now that I could smell the food, I was ravenous. Ben lifted the domes from the plates, and my mouth began to water. Golden waffles dusted with powdered sugar and topped with a with mixed-berry compote, fluffy omelets with goat cheese and mushrooms drizzled with truffle oil, thick cuts of ham and a green salad on the side. It was anything but a country breakfast, almost too pretty and elegant to eat, but it was perfect.
“This is lovely, thank you.”
“Dig in.”
“You didn’t have to do all this. . . .” I wanted to remind him he’d said this was just sex between us, but I didn’t. Couldn’t.
“I need you fueled up for what I want to do to you tonight.” His eyes lingered on mine.
Oh. So it wasn’t some romantic gesture. It was about sex. I helped myself to the food. I might as well enjoy the meal.
We made our plates, taking a little of everything, and then settled on the bed. Ben flipped on the TV to some French news program for background noise while we ate. It was relaxing and so ordinary. And perfect.
We chatted casually throughout the meal, and Ben asked me questions about college. He seemed genuinely interested and admitted he’d always wanted to go to college, but Fiona thought it would slow down his career. Money and exposure now, college later. Even if I could see her reasoning, it made me sad for him.
The conversation I really wanted to have—about his prescriptions—remained just out of reach. I’d already asked about them once; I didn’t want to push him. He’d tell me when he was ready. I had to believe that.
Ben cleared away the dishes then stretched out on the bed next to me. I was comfortable and full and relaxed into the fluffy white bedding. Ben lifted my bare feet into his lap and began lazily rubbing them. It felt amazing. I let my eyes slip closed, allowing the food coma to set in.
“Thank you for breakfast. It wasn’t anything like the home cooking where I’m from, but . . .” I smiled. “It was delicious. Maybe you’ll have to come to Tennessee with me sometime.”
His brow crinkled.
Ben
“I want to be upfront with you.”
Her eyes lifted to mine. God, she was so sweet, it almost made me feel bad. Almost. But I knew what I wanted and the pleasures I could show her. I wouldn’t let anything complicate that. If she was talking about taking me home to Tennessee, clearly we weren’t on the same page about what this was.
“Emmy, I’m not looking for a relationship. I’ve been on my own too long; I’ve gotten too good at it.”
“That doesn’t mean that’s how it has to be.” Her voice was small and she looked down. She wanted to challenge me on this, but seemed reluctant to push me. She wanted it to be my choice. But I knew what I wanted.
Using two fingers, I lifted her chin, forcing her eyes up to mine. “I know. But it’s how I like it. Having to only worry about myself.”
Emmy waited, her eyes on mine, waiting to see what else I’d say.
If I was smart, I’d push her away right now. I’d spill my history, my twisted past, all the many ways I’d fucked up. That would send her running. But something in me wouldn’t do that. Refused. I wanted her too badly. This sweet, soft-spoken girl who was far too normal and nice for me. I wanted her. And it wasn’t just about sex, either. I couldn’t lie, being buried balls deep in her sweet body sounded fucking amazing, though that wasn’t all I wanted if I was being honest. But, unwilling to let myself fuck with both her body and her mind, I needed to remind her this was only about sex.
I pushed on, needing to kill her hope for more. “Is what we have right now so bad?” I asked, one side of my mouth lifting in a playful grin.
She merely blinked up at me, like she wanted to disagree, to tell me I was wrong, that this could work if I would only try. But she deserved better—a proper boyfriend who’d cherish her, not hide her from the world in a hotel room.
“Ben . . .” she started.
My finger over her lips silenced her. “I’m just not capable of giving you everything you need.”
She took my hand and squeezed it in hers, as if saying, “You’re wrong.”
My chest throbbed. She looked at me like I was good and whole and someone she wanted to take care of. I wouldn’t push her away, as long as she knew what she was getting and not getting. “I don’t know where I’ll be living a few months from now. There’s constant temptation in this business. Don’t complicate this, Emmy. It’s two and a half months. Let me have you.”
She hesitated.
“Baby, you’re on my mind constantly. There’s no one else. Come on . . . let me have you how I want you. I promise you won’t regret it.”
Emmy
Let me have you.
Ben’s words rang in my head while his soulful eyes remained locked on mine. Could I do that? Could I hand him the keys to my body and not my heart? I realized with shocking clarity that this was who he was—how he grew up. He had watched his mom with a constant parade of men, and that was the norm. Moving all the time, relying only on himself. He learned to meet his physical needs with whomever was there with him, never getting too attached, knowing he’d eventually move on.
In contrast, my parents were high school sweethearts. I was pretty sure they’d been intimate only with each other—yet I knew they regretted nothing. They were still deeply in love after all these years.
The resolute look in his eyes, his belief that he was better off alone, broke my heart.
I tried not to read too much into it. He said it was two and half more months—just sex. But every time he said or did something sweet, like this breakfast, or opening up to me, or insisting I spend the night in his bed, my heart got confused. I knew it was stupid, wishful thinking, but maybe we could be more. Maybe I could change his mind about commitment. It was probably stupid, but my brain latched on anyway. Didn’t every girl want the fairytale romance with Prince Charming? Maybe this was my chance. I couldn’t give up on him.
“Thank you for dinner,” I murmured, determined to relax and enjoy myself, despite his disappointing attitude on relationships.
“Anytime, beautiful.”
Each time he called me
beautiful
my heart skipped a beat. He made me feel all squirmy, like I was fifteen again, trying to attract the cute guy’s attention. Luckily, I seemed to have somehow captured his complete attention and adoration. His thumbs stroked my instep and his eyes stayed locked on mine.
“Does this feel good?” he asked, pressing his knuckles firmly into the bottom of my foot.
Good
wasn’t a strong enough word. After walking all day in unsupportive flats that pinched my feet, this was heaven. “I fucking love it. Actually I
flove
it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Inventing new words, Miss Clarke?”
I smiled and nodded shyly.
“I’ll call
Webster’s
,” he said. “Have it added to the dictionary.”
His playfulness should have lightened the tone, but I could tell something more was on his mind. He continued rubbing my feet for several minutes in silence before laying them gingerly at the end of the bed to join me, leaning against the headboard. He didn’t meet my eyes, just continued staring straight ahead.
“I take meds for anxiety and insomnia, and a couple different prescription sleep aids. I’ve had trouble sleeping since I was a kid. And the anxiety meds help with that. I don’t like taking the sleep aids. They make me feel like a zombie.”