Page 240 of The Rules
Kath blinked up at him. Her lips parted.
Innocence. Or the perfect imitation of it.
"What," she murmured, voice laced with sugar, "presented my case? That's kind of the job."
He ground his teeth. Hard. Leaned in, finally—mouth just shy of hers, breath searing, words sharper than any verdict.
"Don't bullshit me," he gritted out. "That was a fucking performance. And you knew exactly what you were doing."
Kath tilted her head, lashes lowering, a slow smirk blooming across her lips.
"Did I?"
Her voice dripped mockery. Daring. Delight.
Ben exhaled hard through his nose, feeling the tension coil through his body like a spring wound too tight. Every muscle was primed, ready to snap, to break, to claim what he'd been watching all day.
The rational part of his brain—the part that had kept him in control for years—was being systematically dismantled by her proximity. By the scent of her perfume. By the way her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. By the heat of her body just inches from his.
His gaze flicked over her face, taking in the faint flush along her cheekbones, the parted lips, the slight tremble in her fingers. Then lower—her throat, pulsing with effort. Her collarbone, rising with every breath. He didn’t just want her. He needed her undone.
His voice dropped even lower, becoming something dark and dangerous, each syllable a threat and a promise wrapped in velvet.
"You know what I liked most?" he whispered, and leaned in.
This time, it wasn’t just to speak. His mouth brushed the edge of her ear, soft and deliberate. His lips—warm, commanding—dragged lightly over the shell of it. Not an accident. Not a tease. A message.
She sucked in a breath—sharp, uneven. Her hands flattened against the wall behind her, fingers twitching with what he recognized as restraint. She was fighting the urge to touch him.To pull him closer. Her body shivered beneath his proximity, as if every cell was aware of him.
He smiled—dark, evil—savoring the moment, the power, the way she trembled without him even touching her. Not really.
"The way you looked at me," he murmured, words hot against her skin, each one melting into her. "Like you were imagining how I'd fuck you right there. In front of the jury."
Kath's eyes went wide. Just a flicker—a momentary crack in her composure—but Benjamin caught it. He caught everything.
He noted the way her chest stuttered with her next inhale.
The way her thighs shifted, ever so slightly, pressing together in a subconscious attempt to ease the ache he knew was building there. Her body was betraying her on instinct, responding to him despite her best efforts to maintain control.
His hand—slow, casual—traced the curve of her hip, fingers just barely brushing the fabric of her skirt. Nothing overt.
Just enough to remind her he was there. In every sense of the word.
Her tremble was everything. He didn’t miss it—catalogued it with meticulous precision. Victory curled in his smirk, sharp and hungry. No more patience.
"That was an accident too, huh?" he asked, voice laced with knowing amusement.
She didn't answer. She couldn't.
He grabbed her. Hard. Spun her around, one hand already curling around her hip.
He pressed her face-first against the nearest wall. The impact was cushioned, controlled, but firm.
Kath gasped, both palms splaying against the cool surface, her breath catching in her throat.
Ben stepped in behind her, his chest against her back, body flushed to hers. Every inch of him was heat and intent. He could feel her pulse hammering beneath his fingertips, could sense the electricity coursing through her. The way she yielded tohim—immediate, instinctive—sent a rush of satisfaction through his veins.
His hand dragged up the curve of her spine—slow, deliberate. A tease. A command. He felt her muscles tense beneath his touch, felt the slight arch of her back as she pressed into his palm.
