Page 43 of Secret Nights and Northern Lights
“Pretend I’m not here.”
“Oh. Well, if you weren’t here, I’d probably be scaling the ravine wall with nothing but a rope and my bare hands. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m quite the athlete. To be honest, you’re kind of holding me back.”
Ben lowers his camera, an amused smile playing over his lips. “That so?”
I tilt my head skyward, closing my eyes and basking in a flash of momentary sunlight that sweeps over my cheeks. My smile is irrepressible, and a series of shutter clicks punctures the air. Ben’s attention is a drug, one that I’ve missed for far too long. Or maybe it’s the satisfaction of accomplishing something I didn’tthink I had in me, of finally doing the things I swore I would do all those years I was in Hudson Springs waiting for my opportunity to shine.
When I drop my chin and open my eyes, Ben’s camera is lowered and he’s watching me again, the heat in his eyes from moments ago replaced by something sad, something remorseful.
And I can’t fucking stand it.
The hollowed-out ache in my chest propels me forward, and I know this is a bad idea but I don’t think I can stop myself now. My gaze holds Ben’s as I move toward him, and he reads something in my eyes that makes him set his camera down on the backpack at his feet. As soon as I’m within reach, his arms come around me and he spins me so that my back is pressed against the hard, wet ravine wall.
The heat in his eyes is back. Mission accomplished.
“Are we doing this, Ems?” he asks, so close now that his full lower lip faintly brushes my top one.
“We probably shouldn’t,” I breathe. Though I don’t know why I say it, there’s only been one other time in my life I wanted a kiss as much as I want this one right now.
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Unable to resist this pull between us any longer, I nod vehemently and tighten my arms around his neck. “Yeah. We’re doing this.”
Ben’s mouth covers mine the next instant, at once hungry and urgent and feeling so much like home I want to cry. I think I do cry a little bit, at least a small whimper escapes my throat anyway. At my stifled noises, Ben’s tongue sweeps across my lowerlip, and I lose myself in this kiss. I pull him closer, forcing his body flush against mine, relishing the delicious weight of him pinning me against the ravine wall. His hands slip underneath my layers and clutch the bare skin at my waist, and I think he might be losing himself, too.
Kissing Ben is somehow still familiar and completely different all at once. He’s the comfort of the first boy I ever kissed and the thrill of a man whose body is brand-new to me. His shoulders are wider, his muscles stronger, his demeanor more confident and commanding. But he still tastes like cinnamon.
Ben’s thumb strokes across the bare skin at my hip bone, and my back arches in an involuntary spasm. He breaks our kiss then, pulling back and resting his forehead against mine while we both catch our breath.
“Goddamn, Ems,” he exhales.
Both of us are panting, and neither of us lets go of the other. Scents of fresh earth and Ben’s soap hang in the air. The only sounds are our heavy breaths and the water pouring down the ravine wall a few feet away. My mind is spinning, but I don’t want to think, I want to feel. And kissing Ben is the most incredible feeling I’ve had in years. Fourteen, to be exact.
“Did that really just happen?” Ben asks. His voice is filled with wonderment. As if he truly can’t believe where we are and what we did. It’s the vocalization of my exact thought that makes me bite down on my lower lip, the surge of pain ensuring this isn’t a dream.
Ben Carter is back in my life, and I just kissed him next to a waterfall in Iceland.
“It happened,” I say, not sure if I’m trying to convince him or me. Maybe if we try it one more time…
But Ben pulls back a little more, and I reluctantly let my arms slide away from his neck.
“Have dinner with me tonight?” he asks. “I think it’s time we settle a few things.”
Chapter 13
Tip #8 when visiting Iceland:Thanks to an endless hot water supply due to geothermal sources, it can be quite easy to lose track of time in a steamy, indulgent shower.
Instead of dining out for dinner, we stop at a market and pick up a bottle of white wine and a box of pasta to cook at home.
Home.
When the word drifts through my mind, I take pause. This isn’t home. Not even close. Iceland is thousands of miles away from home. I’m staying in a suite I checked into exactly one day ago. Yet grocery shopping with Ben, and then watching him carry those groceries into my suite and unpack them on the small kitchen table—just as he and the twins would do each time my mom returned from her weekly shopping trips with enough food for a small army—feels distinctly safe, distinctly comforting, and yeah, distinctly like home.
I definitely don’twantto feel this way, but I don’t think I have the power to control the way Ben makes me feel. The way he’s always made me feel.
“I’m going to run to my room and shower,” he says, shaking me from my thoughts. “I’ll be back over in a little while to start dinner.”
I stand in my own shower for far too long, replaying the kiss we shared today on a loop. Last night when the power was out and I found myself wrapped in Ben’s arms again, I’d wondered if he could still kiss me the way he used to. After today I know he kisses me better. Age and experience combined with the expert knowledge of what I like is a potent mixture. Now I wonder what it would be like to do more than kiss Ben. What it would be like if he were here with me now, in this steam-filled room with the hot water streaming over my skin like a caress. I imagine Ben’s hands on me, his mouth on me, and as I do, I close my eyes and place my own hands on my body.
