Page 50 of Crimson Promises
“What don’t you understand?”
“You. One minute, I think there may be more between us, and the next, you act like Antarctica. You’re cold and distant. It’s so frustrating. I keep wondering if it’s something I’m doing.” I blew a raspberry in the air. “I vacillate between wanting to throttle you and kiss you. Ugh.”
I chugged the rest of my wine.Why did I say that?So much for playing it cool and collected.
“Did you want Riley to kiss you?” Bennett said into the night.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything. Answer the question.” Both of his arms wrapped around me.
“Not like this.”
He turned me towards him so our foreheads touched. His skin burned hot beneath my freezing fingers.
Suspended in time, we breathed against each other for a moment. He looked at my lips through lowered lashes. I could feel his heart pounding. He wanted this just as much as I did. He was standing on the edge, restraining himself, and all I wanted him to do was jump.
“Aurora,” he breathed.
Tentatively, I reached up to run my fingers along the side of his face, against his nose, over his lips, and across his jaw. My finger paused on his scar. I knew his trauma, like mine, left more than just a physical scar. He understood what it meant to be truly alone. On that thought alone, I pushed myself up and brushed my lips across the angry slash through his eyebrow.
That broke any reservations Ben had.
In a flash, he positioned me over him so I straddled his legs. His hands held my head in place as his lips touched mine, soft at first, asking permission. I slid my fingers into his hair from the nape of his neck and pushed his mouth closer. I didn’t want soft or delicate. I wanted the danger and the rush that came with being in Bennett’s presence, like on the motorcycle. I wanted to feel alive, present, and grounded in this moment beneath the stars.
He opened the seam of his lips with my tongue. Ben groaned into my mouth. My center flooded with warmth. The bond between us sparked to life.
The quilt was still around us, cocooning us from the outside world. I could feel him, hard andhuge,against me. His fingertips traced my thighs until he placed both hands in the back pockets of my jeans. My body melted into his. We were aligned in the most intimate way possible.
I dug my nails into his scalp. He grunted a “yeah” as I moved slightly to increase the friction between us. My body was set aflame with want and a pulsatingneed. His large palms cupped the back of my neck as he angled my head just so, his hips driving up to meet mine.
I ground myself into his hardness. Our mouths connected the entire time, feasting like we were starving and each other’s only salvation. My nipples pebbled against my lace bra, demanding to be acknowledged. I arched my back.
Ben needed no further invitation. His finger slipped under my sweater, traced my hip bone, and zig-zagged across my stomach, leaving a blazing trail in its wake. I shivered when he charted a new course to the indentations between my ribs. Finally, he palmed my heaving and aching breast over the thin scrap of lace that I wished he would rip off—anything to feel his skin on mine. I whimpered, not caring who or what could hear me, earning a firm squeeze.
“You have no idea how long I have thought about these perfect tits,” he growled as he moved his lips from mine to below my ear and then my neck.
Oh god,oh god.There was no reason or room for intellectual thoughts. My body was as tight as a bow, demanding release.
I ran my fingers down his back and under his sweater. Smooth, hard planes met my touch.Why am I not surprised his body is as beautiful as his face?
With his mouth still doing tantalizing things to my neck, he lifted one of my knees and changed the angle of the friction. My eyes rolled to the back of my head.Yes—I need,almostthere.Yes. That exact spot.
A faint cough penetrated my lust-induced haze.
“It’s Victor,” I whispered into Ben’s hair.
If he heard me, he didn’t acknowledge it. He moved his attention to my collarbone.
“Ben, we should probably—oh—go inside.”
He started swirling his hips at a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree angle.Or we can stay exactly where we are. Stopping is an atrocious idea meant to harm the ache that is so close to being quenched.
This time, the cough was followed by a soft knock on the glass door.
Ben pulled down the cup of my bra like he didn’t even hear me.
“Ben.” His hand and lips stilled where they were, but he didn’t pull away from me. In a hushed voice, I said, “We’ve been discovered. We should probably head back inside. Say our goodbyes.”
