Page 132 of Give My Everything
This playfulness with Ben is different than I’m used to. Obviously, everything will be somewhat new with my only relationship comparison being Lucas.
We were kids. We never had the freedom to be playful with our sexuality. With Ben, I feel like I can be open about it, open and willing and so, so,soturned on.
Like now, as he catches my hand and pulls me so I’m up against the wall at the bottom of the stairs.
He presses his lips against mine, and I open for him, the taste of him exploding on my tongue as our mouths twist and writhe against each other.
“Before the shower,” he says, pulling back and touching his forehead to mine. “I have something I want to show you.”
“It can’t wait until after?” I say, my voice breathy and needy.
He groans, dropping his hands to my waist and pressing his lips back to mine. I feel his fingers twitch and I wrap my arms around his neck, thinking I’ve won.
“No, it can’t wait,” he says, surprising me, and then he pulls back and takes me by the hand, leading me through the kitchen and living room, over to the hallway that leads to the garage and his office.
He stops suddenly, spinning to look at me with a wariness in his eyes.
“We can change anything you don’t like,” he says. “Just remember that, and the fact that this was worked on only at night when you were sleeping.”
My brow furrows. “What are you…”
But before I can continue, Ben opens the door to the laundry room. Only it isn’t the laundry room. I mean, it is, because the laundry room is inside the garage…but the garage isn’t just a garage anymore. It’s…
“An art studio.”
My hand drops his and I raise both to my face, covering my mouth as my eyes flit around the room, taking everything in.
He’s removed anything to do with a garage, though I honestly don’t know what was in here before.
Now, it’s filled with sturdy, beautiful wooden shelves, matching tables, a massive easel, a drafting desk, and more supplies than we carried in the entire art store I worked at in Santa Barbara.
I step down into the room, the polished concrete floor cool on my feet, spinning around and getting closer to examine everything.
My eyes snag on what’s propped up in the corner.
“I had Dominic bring them by,” he says.
Moving to the side, I reach out and begin to flip through my canvases. I left most of them in a small storage unit when I left Santa Barbara, knowing I’d have a lot to explain to my parents if I came home from the school I was supposed to be attending for a business degree with over 200 canvases created at a completely different college.
But I did bring a few home. I’ve thought a few times about going back to collect them, along with some of my other items. After the confrontation with my mom a few days ago, though…I don’t want to go home.
Knowing Ben contacted Dom and he brought them over…
I turn to Ben. “Why would you do this?” I ask.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
I pause at that, looking around.
“Isn’t that what relationships are supposed to be? You’re supposed to think about what would make the other person happy. And if we’re really doing this—gettingmarried—I can’t imagine missing an opportunity to make you smile.”
I move toward him quickly, taking the two steps out of the garage—no, the art studio—and barreling into Ben’s body. I’m overwhelmed with emotion. He seems to make me feel that way a lot.
I press my lips against his, feeling a need rising up, an urge to show him how he makes me feel. We kiss and we kiss as I move slowly forward, pushing Ben backward and through the door of his study. My hands roam, tickling up his sides and lifting his shirt, a brief shiver racking his body as he raises his arms to let me take it off of him.
Once I feel the carpet under my feet, I begin kissing my way down him, across his firm chest and abs. I drop to my knees, my hands going to the button of his jeans, popping it open and pulling down the zipper.
“You don’t have to blow me to say thank you,” he says, his eyes glued to me, his breaths coming out in pants.
