Page 18 of Enemies with Benefits

“Do I get a cookie?”

I clench my eyes shut, trying to keep my breathing steady. “No.” I hate his deep chuckle. I hate the little flutter that happens in my belly anytime I hear it. I hate even more that he notices his effect on me.

His warm breath skates against my earlobe “Shame.” He pulls away.

By the time I open my eyes, he’s gone. I only see his back as he disappears into the kitchen. Probably helping himself to a darn cookie. The couple walks past, and I smile. “The upstairs bedrooms are quite spacious. Perfect for children,” I say. They nod and disappear down the hall.

“Great.” I exhale and look around. There’s nothing spacious about this house. It’s suffocating and depressing. It wasn’t so horrible when my mom was alive. She always kept the windows open to let a breeze in. The smell of fresh flowers would mask my father’s cigarette smoke, and on holidays, she would buy festive pillows to brighten up the place. Mom made this place a home the best way she could. And he destroyed it.

“Chewy.” Ben’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I turn as he walks out of the kitchen, a half-eaten cookie in his hand. I roll my eyes and give him my back. “Always wondered what your bedroom looked like.” I whip back around as he takes the stairs two at a time.

“God bless it.” I rush after him. Before I catch up, he’s already standing in the center of my childhood bedroom.

“Band posters, huh? I always pictured Albert Einstein or a diagram of the planets on your wall.”

“Well, your theory’s wrong. You can leave now.” God, I hate him.

He turns around with no humor in his expression and walks up to me. I step back and he continues moving until my back hits the wall. “I’m not leaving until I get what I came here for.”

“And what exactly is that?”

He leans in so close, the smell of chocolate drifts into my nose. I hold my breath as his eyes drop to my lips.Go away. Go away. Go away.My belly tightens. His gaze intensifies, and I can’t help but pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

“Well, are you going to tell me or just stand here? I have things—”

His lips, soft yet bruising, crash over mine, cutting off my words. He kisses me with purpose. Almost punishing me as his tongue collides with mine. My nervous system short circuits, sending a live wire of desire through me. He grips my butt and pulls me into him. The simple friction of our bodies touching is almost enough to send me into convulsions. I don’t know what this kiss is. A form of hatred. Passion. Maybe a little of both. His hardness presses against my belly, and a warning siren goes off in my head, but the building ache between my legs silences it.

His lips break from mine, and he sucks on my lower lip. I moan when he brings his teeth down and gently bites. As shameful as it is, I can’t help pressing my hips into him, needing more friction. He releases my lip and works his way down my neck, his lips warm as he presses them against my skin. Inch by inch, he drags his lips down until they brush along my collarbone.

Through my thin blouse, he sucks on my skin and bites down. A moan falls off my tongue before I can stop it.

“Tell me what you want?” I’m breathless, my question coming out more like a plea. “Tell me—”

“I want an apology.”

His words are like an ice bucket dumped over my head. My body becomes rigid, and I pull away, pushing him off me. “You want an apology?”

“Yeah, a fucking apology. You left me in that room.”

What an asshole. “And you deserved it,” I spit out, adjusting my shirt.

“I’m gonna have to disagree on that one, sweetheart—”

“I amdefinitelynot your sweetheart. You disgust me.”

“Is that so?” His nostrils flare as he glares at me.

“What? Shocked someone is immune to your bullshit?”

“Mybullshit? Sweetheart, you’re the one babbling bullshit. You were just putty in my hands two seconds ago, begging me for—what was it? Certainly wasn’t an apology. You want me.”

I throw my hands up. “Give me a break. You’re nothing more than a washed-up playboy. Maybe a washed-up football player too. What happened? No one bowed in your presence or rolled out the red carpet whenever you entered a room, so you ran home?” His jaw clenches, his teeth grinding. I hit a nerve. Good. He deserves everything he gets. “Don’t have anything to say now? Maybe you should—”

“You know what, fuck this.” His glare is cold as ice as he turns and storms out.

Chapter8

Ben

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