Page 50 of Sugar Baby Mine

Ben laughs, resting his elbow on the counter and rubbing away the worry on his forehead. “You’re so expressive. I love that about you.”

The way my body responds to that is so very different from my brain. I shove another bite into my mouth before I say something incredibly stupid and burn this whole thing to the ground.

We finish the night, and he hands me another six hundred dollars, even though I make a bit of a guffaw about not even sucking his cock. He just laughs and says I did what he asked me to do, cook dinner with him.

It feels entirely transactional when I tuck the money into my purse, but I guess that’s how this is. It wouldn’t work any other way.

Chapter 13

It’s another week before we go out again, another lazy Sunday. Ben told me to dress warm and I was tempted to put on as many layers as I could, just to tell him I did as he requested. Turns out, I like bratting a little too much.

When I open the front door of the building and slip outside, he’s leaning against the building wearing a woolen coat with a gray scarf draped over his shoulders. His breath clouds the air as his lips part, eyes sweeping down my body.

I pop a hip, hand on my waist as I glance down at my legs covered in thick, knitted thigh-highs and my black heeled boots. “Want me to do a spin for you?”

Ben lets out a huff of a laugh, pushing away from the building to reach out and grab my wrist. He tugs me in close until my hands land on his chest and my fingers slip underneath the open coat and grab at his sweater. His knuckles sweep over the inch of bare skin between the thigh-highs and my pleated skirt, a shiver tracking down my spine at the cold touch of his fingers.

“I said dress warm.” He buries his head in my neck, lips brushing the skin above the collar of my jacket.

“I’m plenty warm, thank you.”

“When you beg me to take you home and warm you up, I’m saying I told you so.”

I roll my eyes, hand sliding off his chest to reach around and tug on the strands of his hair. I pull him away from peppering kisses over my neck before I don’t want to go anywhere but to bed.

“And how did I already know you get off on that?” I tut, pushing him with a gentle shove as I step back from him.

He straightens up like it pains him, hands shoving into the pockets of his jacket to fish for his car key. “Just a good guess.”

We fall in step toward his car across the street. The Jaguar again. He follows me around the side of the car and opens the door for me. I have to ignore how warm and fuzzy that makes me feel. It’s so simple and ridiculous andsweet. I run my finger along the top of the door, my gaze sliding up to him with a smile before sliding into the passenger seat and clicking my seat belt into place.

I pull my purse from my shoulder and drop it onto the floor by my feet. My mouth just decides now is a good time to spill my thoughts like an overflowing cup. “So where are we going? The ferry? The Botanical Gardens? You know I could probably name every flower in there without looking at any placards. Or are we getting something to eat? You didn’t saynotto eat beforehand. Are we getting street food? I fucking love tacos—”

“Wollman Rink,” Ben interjects, starting the car and pressing the button next to my seat to turn on the seat warmer for me. “I’ll take you to the garden some other time when they put all the lights up, and you can tell me about every flower there. And yes, we’re getting something to eat.”

Leaning back into the seat, I settle with a sense of calm as his hand slides over my thigh even as he starts to drive.

“Are we going ice skating?”

“Yes. Do you know how to skate?” he asks, glancing over at me.

I nod. “Yeah, I do. Just haven’t been since I was a teenager probably. Not sure I won’t fall flat on my face.”

“You can hold onto me.”

“I’ll probably drag you down with me.”

“I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

I’m holding him to that.

The traffic is surprisingly light, and it’s only twenty minutes in the car before we pull into a parking garage and walk down the block to the park. I’ll die before admitting my legs are already cold just from the walk over. Admittedly, I wouldn’t have worn a skirt had he told me where we were going ahead of time.

By the time we get our skates at the rink, the sun is dipping in the sky and they’ve turned on the string lights that line the boards. It feels like we’re stepping into something magical with the chill of the frosty ice in the air.

I lace up my skates alongside Ben, watching as he pulls at the strings with practiced precision.

“Do you skate often?” I ask, tilting my head as I yank the hem of my thigh-highs up my legs as far as they’ll stretch before standing on wobbly legs.

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