Page 61 of If Only In Our Dreams

I forced myself to move, because I didn’t want to act like a total weirdo—even though I just had. “Sorry for, you know…invading your fortress or whatever.” Coffee. Damn. I really wanted that coffee. But I didn’t want to impose.

Mom had taught me better manners than this.

I was from the South.

Being polite was bred into me.

“I didn’t mind,” Ben’s voice crackled, bright as one of the Christmas fireplaces I used to watch in movies growing up. “Idon’tmind,” he amended, lower this time.

“I’ll be right outta your hair,” I shrugged a shoulder. “Soon as I get your very warm…sock things off? And your hoodie.”

“Keep them.”

Right, okay. That was nice. But I couldn’t help but feel disappointed that Ben hadn’t asked me to stay. He must’ve seen me wilt because before I could speak again, warm hands were latching on to my shoulders and steering me toward what looked like a bathroom.

“Shower,” Ben commanded. Only it was hard to pay attention to anything but his big-ass hands and how bossy they were—and how they were so fucking huge and strong and…fuck. My dick was perking up.

My dick was…

No way.

No way!

Elated, I glanced down at my crotch to confirm.

And yes. Yep. My dick was definitely at least somewhat hard.

“Shower,” I agreed, because there was no way I was wasting this opportunity, even if I was at Ben’s house. Especially because I was at Ben’s house.

“I’ll leave fresh warm clothes for you to change into.”

“Warm clothes,” I echoed again, shivering as Ben guided me toward the frankly fancy-ass shower he had. The bathroom was nice. As nice as his bedroom. The tile looked custom, and everything was homey and clean. It was one of those shower-bath combos. Probably for the kiddos. And a tub full of toys sat neatly in the corner as Ben leaned over me to turn the faucet on.

“I’ve got coffee and chocolate chip pancakes in the kitchen for when you’re finished.”

“Coffee and kitchens, yep,” I bobbed my head. “Love this plan. Ten out of ten.”

Ben rumbled out a laugh. I could literally feel it because his chest was brushing my back. “You are so fucking cute when you’re sleepy.”

He obviously hadn’t meant to say the words because he stiffened for a second. I did too—because how could I not? It was like we were in tune. When Ben relaxed, so did I. Hot water blasted on, a few droplets spattering the both of us as he held very still behind me.

“You’realwayscute,” I countered because it was true, and also I wanted to level the playing field a bit. Didn’t want the poor guy to flounder.

Besides…he apparently thought I was cute.

And that was…yeah.

Damn.

Even my cheeks felt hot.

“Cute is not a word I often hear to describe me,” Ben laughed, rising back to his full impressive height. His chest wasn’ttouching my back anymore, but I could feel how close he was. Feel the way his breath ruffled my hair.

“Bet you get sexy a lot,” I blurted like an idiot. “Hot.” That was worse somehow. “Gorgeous?”

“Says the man with eyes like sea glass and hair like snow.”

“I see you, writer man,” I joked. “You and your…metaphors.”

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