Page 64 of The Legend Next Door
I know it doesn’t sound like the sort of thing that should be very hot, but it is. It’s scorching hot. So hot that when I finally work out how to swallow my coffee, the heat from the beverage flows all the way down. All the way. Down my throat, down my torso, down to my groin. It pools and swells where it lands.
I’m not entirely sure how long I’ve been here, but I do think it’s longer than normal for two people to be together and not say a single word. Ordinarily, I’d be tempted to try and save the day. To land on a random topic and take off at a gallop.
Today, I don’t even attempt it because Ben’s here, and he hasn’t told me to do it.
He’s sitting closer to me than usual, but not as close as I’d like. The space between us sizzles with electricity, and for the first time, I’m a hundred percent sure it’s not only coming from me.
He lets his leg closest to me fall open and turns his body toward me. His arm stretches out on the backrest of the swing. The air between us crackles. He lifts his mug, but this time he doesn’t sip. He hesitates. Or he comes as close to hesitating as a man like Ben Stirling can come to hesitating.
He closes his eyes for a beat and shakes his head at me. No, not at me, at himself. “Don’t look at me like that,” he says with something sweet laced through his words.
“Like what?”
His lips part, curling up at one side. His eyes are the clearest I’ve ever seen them. The moon on a warm, still night. A night without a cloud in the sky. Life and humor and good things flicker in them. “Like you think I know what I’m doing.”
His fingers uncurl on the swing cushion behind me. I sense the movement more than I see it, but I know it happened because the disturbance of air is like a gentle breeze blowing through my hair.
He touches my neck with the back of his fingers, a light, tentative touch. It burns like a brand I want badly. Something I want so much that I don’t care what I have to go through to get it.
Ben’s gaze drops to my mouth. I think I might be affecting him, too, because he mimics my movements without meaning to. There’s a shy smile that mirrors mine. A hint of teeth. A quick breath out that clamps lips together before parting to show the tiniest flash of a wet pink tongue.
The heat between us is unreal. So is the tension. It’s a living, buzzing thing that’s almost solely concentrated on my lips and his.
He moves closer to me, the tiniest amount, and it almost kills me. I want him closer. So close, there’s no space between us. No air. Only skin. His skin and mine.
I want him to kiss me more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
I’ve wanted to be kissed before. Of course I have. Lots of times. I wanted to be kissed when I was a teen, and I’ve wanted to be kissed as a man. At first, I wanted it because I wanted to know what it was like. I wanted to know that someone liked me enough to kiss me. After that, I wanted kisses because kissing is a good way to get hot things started. A way to get clothes to come off and make sexy things happen.
That’s not the kind of kiss I want now. Not at all. Not anymore. All I want now is to be kissed by Ben. I want him to press his lips against mine and let me know I haven’t gone insane. I haven’t misunderstood what’s happening. I’m not crazy. I’m here, and all this is really happening. I’m here, and he’s here, and he wants me at least a tiny bit as much as I want him.
I need that. I need to know that.
“Do you know what you want?” It’s my voice, but not as I know it. It’s thick and swollen with longing.
Ben touches my neck again. This time, it’s harder, and this time, there’s nothing uncertain about it. He nods, eyes still on my mouth, lips slightly ajar as he breathes, “I know what I want, Jeremiah.”
“Then take it,” I whisper.
A rush of air leaves him and lands lightly on my skin. The hand on the back of my neck tightens, paralyzing me as surely as if my spinal cord had been cut through. It’s no matter. I stay seated without any issues. I don’t need to hold myself up because Ben’s here, and he’s doing it for me.
His lips part and he leans in. It’s a single, smooth movement that would make my head spin if I had the time. I don’t, though, because Ben’s lips are brushing against mine. They’re hot and soft. Gentle and demanding. They toy with my bottom lip for the briefest, headiest of moments before his tongue flicks into my mouth, asking for access.
I groan as I grant it.
There’s a distant crash of timber on timber that’s quickly drowned out by my thundering heart and the good things at hand. Ben’s kiss is like everything else about him. It’s beautiful.
Oh God, it’s so beautiful.
It’s the kiss.Thekiss. The kiss of the ages. The kiss that takes me apart and puts me back together. The kiss I’ve spent my whole life waiting for.
I’m dazed when it ends.
“You were right,” says Ben matter-of-factly.
“Right about what,” I slur.
He hits me with a look that makes bone marrow hiss. “You are a good kisser.”
