Page 59 of Her Ex's Father
For once, I don’t think about Georgiana. Or Derrick. Or the ghosts that stalk me.
I only think of Maddie, small and fierce in my arms, and the terrifying truth that I would do anything to keep her safe.
Anything.
Chapter 21
Madeline
Irun my hands down the fabric of the dress again, for the fifth—no, maybe sixth—time. It’s not like smoothing silk over silk is going to suddenly make the curve of my stomach disappear, but I can’t stop. The dress is soft and fitted, in the warm shade of deep rose that Stella insisted makes my skin glow. But the fact remains: there’s no hiding the bump anymore. Small, yes. It’s barely noticeable to anyone who doesn’t know me. But to me—and definitely to Ben—it feels like a billboard flashing“expecting.”
My reflection stares back from the gilt-edged mirror in Ben’s closet suite, brown eyes shadowed with nerves, mouth pressed tight. He moved me intohisbedroom four days ago, when I started having trouble sleeping. It feels like an imposition even though Ben insists it’s not. I don’t love the feel of needing someone, not after years of being independent, but the truth is I sleep better with Ben’s large body sheltering my own.
Closing my eyes, the way his body gives off heat comes to me unbidden: the stir of longing that makes me restless every night, even worse when he drops his hand to my hip and pulls me back into him. He has no idea how badly I want him, and I keep trying to disguise it.
Things have been… good between us. It still feels like he’s holding me at arm’s length lately, but his protective movements in the dark, the way he gently touches my face when he thinks I’m sleeping… with those small choices, he’s tethered me to him unknowingly.
My stomach twists with the nervous-excitement of realizing I’d do anything for Benedict, that being by his side feels like fate despite the fact that it started with a scandal. Anything, including going to this dinner.
I’ve faced my parents’ judgment my whole life, endured whispers at town events, even handled being abandoned at the altar by Derrick. But tonight? Tonight feels harder.
Because this is Ben’s world.
His friends. His traditions.
And I’m the scandal he’s bringing to dinner.
The soft knock on the door makes my stomach clench harder. I don’t even have time to call out before it opens.
Ben steps inside, broad shoulders filling the doorway, and I swear I forget how to breathe. He’s in one of those impossibly tailored suits that somehow looks both casual and commanding, charcoal with a pale shirt open at the collar. His silver hair gleams under the recessed lights. He’s freshly shaved but left the hint of stubble that I’ve learned the hard way feels like fire against my skin.
His eyes find me immediately. Green, sharp, and?—
Hungry.
I freeze, every thought about the bump or scandal evaporating as he shuts the door behind him. The quiet click feels intimate, dangerous, like a signal.
“You’re stunning,” he says simply.
I laugh nervously, brushing my hands down the dress again. “Stunningly obvious, maybe.” I gesture toward my stomach. “It’s not exactly easy to disguise anymore.”
His gaze drops, unapologetic, lingering on the curve beneath the silk. Something dark flares there. Possessive. Aroused. “Good,” he says, voice low. “I like it. More than like it.”
Heat floods my chest, my cheeks, racing downward in a pulse I can’t control. “Ben…”
He crosses the space in three strides, one big hand bracing my hip, the other sliding around to cup the small swell of my stomach. The touch is reverent and claiming all at once. “You’re carrying my child,” he murmurs, his lips so close to my ear that my knees threaten to buckle. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”
I swallow hard, but can’t help pushing my ass back against the throb of his erection. “Embarrass you, maybe?”
His head snaps up, eyes locking with mine, fierce. “No. Never. Don’t you dare think that.” His thumb traces circles low against my belly, protective. “If anything, it makes me want to lock every door in this house so I can keep you to myself.”
The air between us thickens. My pulse is racing, my breath shallow. His mouth brushes my temple, then drifts lower, grazing the edge of my cheek, down toward my jaw.
Unexpectedly, he spins me around, lifting me by my waist up onto the dresser that holds his watches, ties, miscellaneous things that glint in the dim room. With the only light coming from the spotlight near the mirror, Ben’s face is shadowed and serious, sending a spark of nerves through me.
Slowly, he pushes the silk dress up my legs, eyes glued to my thighs as the fabric clings. I take a shuddering breath, trying to control how badly I want him, trying not to reach out and rumble his suit.
As if reading my mind, he carefully shucks off the jacket and slings it over a chair. Then he presses my legs apart, standing between them, the thick tent of his erection obvious as he surveys me.
