Page 9 of Daring You

“Take a sip,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” I say hoarsely, then take a large gulp of water. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“For…for doing what I just did.”

Ben flicks a grin. “For choking on my cock?”

I groan into the water bottle, its iciness doing nothing to stifle the heat in my cheeks.

“Come here,” he says, laughing softly, and pulls us into a lean against the bed.

We’re still on the floor. Ben is naked from the waist down, but he’s naturally confident, used to being exposed in front of women, so why would I think drawing me up against his chest would give him any hesitation?

I notice the burns on his thighs. Can’t help but stare at them while he rubs my shoulder and tucks my head under his chin. I’ve always known of the one on his arm, but never considered there’d be more, swipes of the devil’s nails across his body.

And…he’s still hard.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he murmurs into my hair. “Are you overthinking things?”

“I was trying to be what you’re used to,” I admit, still tracing his scars with my gaze.

“Why?”

The honest confusion in his question makes me pause. “Because why would you want anything else?”

“I want you,” he says. “You, Astor. Not any other girl, not the ones in my past. Just you.”

He tucks a finger under my chin again, but this time, waits for me to allow the lift, to rise off his chest and look at him.

I stare at him, waiting for him to come to the obvious conclusion, the one that’s been spinning its glee inside my head since the first time I met Ben Donahue and realized I was crushing on someone completely out of my league. “How could I ever be enough?”

He squints. “You’re serious?”

“I’m not flawless. I’m more sharp than smooth. My nose is too big. No matter how hard I try, zits keep cropping up on my face—”

Ben lays a finger across my lips, and while it shuts me up, it’s not what he intended. His eyes are deep, penetrating, his blue more pale than mine, and he angles his head like he can’t decide what to do with me.

“I can’t believe that’s how you see yourself,” he says, unblinking. “Because all I notice are those gorgeous eyes, and behind them a gifted, talented brain. Yeah, I’m saying you’re smart,” he says when I snort.

“Because that’s what you like to fuck. Smart girls,” I can’t help muttering.

“Hey.” His eyes grow shadows from his brows. “I’ll be the first to admit I haven’t been too discerning. But I’ve stayed away from you. Not because I have no attraction—I have too much. You’re not simply beautiful, Astor. You’re alluring. Compelling. I’ve picked your brain for years and still feel like I have layers to go. A mystery I constantly want to unravel. You know what that does to me? It makes me insecure. You make me unsure of myself, because how come something so addictively attractive doesn’t want me?”

“Doesn’t want you?” I literally have to keep my jaw from unhinging and clattering to the floor. “Aside from all those false things you just said about me, how could you for one second think me, Acne Hayes, wouldn’t want to sleep with you?”

His expression shutters at the use of my nickname.

“I know that’s what they call me,” I say with false bravado. “The guys in the locker room.”

“Not your brother. Not his friends.”

“Because he’d amputate their toes, one by one.”

“No, because they—I—respect you. Lov—” He swallows. Looks away, then back again. “I’d never do anything to hurt you. I felt like touching you might break everything we were building together. Not for one second did I think you read my distance as me being repulsed by you.”

“You’re playing a game with me.”

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