Page 78 of Savage Seduction

"It’s a long story. Maybe we can discuss it over dinner?" I look past Ben into the house.

"Oh, shoot." Ben clears his throat. "Where are my manners? Come on inside and make yourself at home. I’m sorry about getting into your business. It’s an occupational hazard, I’m afraid. There’s a million and one questions I have to ask my patients every day. Please forgive me."

"For sure. No worries at all. I actually find it endearing."

Ben pauses and smiles at me, his dimples deep and beckoning. "Sorry about the mess, I’ve been putting some things in boxes the last few days and haven’t taken them to storage yet."

Considering Ben had just apologized for getting into my business, it wasn’t the right time for me to do the same. I look around the beautifully decorated home. It's my second time here, but something feels different this time. Like I know the occupant this time around, and I start to actually feel at home. After Ben closes the door, there is absolutely no sound from the street. Impressive. What it must be like to live somewhere you can’t hear the constant city noise.

"I know I probably said it last time, but your home is gorgeous," I say, looking around as I walk into the living area. "I love all the art you have on the walls—great color choices."

"Thank you," Ben says. "I’m not great with decorating, but I had a designer help me."

"Well, whoever you hired did a great job. Is that a McFall original?" I point to the far wall. "I didn’t notice that the last time I was here."

Ben comes and stands next to me, admiring the arthanging on the wall. "It is. Dad #3, I’ve been told. Her black and white pastels are photorealistic. I can’t even imagine how much time she puts into each of her pieces."

"Dude," I say. "Exquisite. I’ve seen a few of her other pieces in museums, but never up this close. The amazing thing about it for me is how much emotion she can capture in each of the drawings."

"I’ve been told by other artists that her technique isn’t real art. It’s too mechanical or something stupid like that, but I absolutely love it."

"Right? Can you imagine how long it must have taken her to perfect this technique—and she’s not even that old. To be honest, I don’t fully understand how she does it. To combine pastels, acrylic, spray paint, and resin like this is nothing short of miraculous."

Ben’s hand brushes mine as he shifts his weight. The closeness isn’t lost on me as I feel butterflies overtake my desire to look at the artwork. "I love how passionate you are about this stuff." His pinky finger brushes against mine again and sets my senses on fire.

I clear my throat as I fight to speak nonchalantly while my heart races out of control. "I’m really glad you asked me to come over. I’ve been thinking about you since our last coffee date."

Ben turns to face me, his eyebrows arched, eyes twinkling with a playful mischievousness I hadn’t realized I’d been missing until I saw it in him. "What have you been thinking about?" Ben cocks his head to the side. "How much you missed me?"

I smile. "Something like that." I shift my weight enough, so our hands touch once again. My knees tremble ever so slightly the longer our hands remain together.

Ben leans in closer and our eyes meet—a tightness in my chest deepens. Ever so perceptively, Ben tilts his head at theperfect angle to kiss me. A breath catches in my chest and my heartbeat pounds in my ears. Ben closes the gap between us, and I swallow hard, closing my eyes. Despite our previous interactions, this felt different, sensual, filled with need.

The warmth from Ben’s skin, mere millimeters from my own, warms me. The anticipation of us connecting, of us sharing a tender and passionate moment, is almost more than I can take. I fight the urge to throw my arms around him and tumble to the floor in a heap—two bodies entwined, in need of love and hungry for sex.

A sharp, shocking series of beeps blares from the kitchen. "Oh, shit."

I open my eyes. And see Ben rushing out of the room and into the kitchen. "Ben?"

"In here," he yells from deep inside the house. "I may have ruined dinner."

I follow the sound of his voice and emerge into the kitchen. Despite the blaring smoke detector and a heavy cloud of dark gray smoke hovering in the air, I'd still rather be having sex on the sofa. I adjust myself, pushing my hard cock to the side so I can more comfortably walk. Watching Ben rush around the kitchen, flustered, looking completely out of his element, makes me want to jump his bones right then and there. Flames and smoke inhalation be damned.

"I hope you love burnt cheese." Ben places the pan of sizzling-hot enchiladas on the gas burning stove top.

I move closer to the burnt offering. "Yum. I actually do love a nice char on my cheese."

Ben turns and cocks his head. We both burst into laughter.

"Should I order pizza?" Ben asks, shoulders slumped.

"No, I'm serious. This is totally salvageable." I grab the spatula from the island counter. "Where do you keep the forks?"

"Top drawer," he says.

"Great, now if you could…pleaseget that smoke alarm to stop before I die."

I retrieve the fork and begin poking around at the sides of the pan. Seconds later, the blaring stopped, and I take a sigh of relief. Next, I slid the spatula under two of the enchiladas and used the fork to help separate them from the rest. "Man, these are going to be great. I take it you’ve never been cooked for by a busy abuela trying to do fifteen things at once?"

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