“You’re too far away,” Ben complained.
With a roll of her eyes, she scooted over so they were side by side. Arm touching arm. Thigh against thigh.
He instantly draped one wet arm around her bare shoulders and slid his hand to give one of her breasts a firm squeeze. “Much better.” He slanted his head and shot her a mischievous look. “Wanna make out?”
She laughed. “Sure. Maybe afterwards we could go to the malt shop and share a milkshake with two straws.”
He didn’t seem to mind her teasing. If anything, his grin only widened and, as usual, he wasted no time bending his head and covering her mouth with his.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to this man’s kisses. So long and intoxicating. Hurried. Rough. Taking it slow? She doubted he knew what that meant. Oh no. His lips and tongue simply took what they wanted without permission.
Not that she minded. His hungry claim of her mouth stole the breath right out of her lungs and made her chest constrict with burning need. Each hot, toe-curling kiss ended with a gasp from her and a groan from him, and made her squirm under the warm water eddying around her.
Pulling back, Ben nipped playfully at her earlobe. “Why do you still have your suit on?”
“I’m waiting for you to tear it off with your teeth, remember?”
“Is that a challenge?”
“More like a dare.”
“I like the way you think, Red.”
Water splashed over the edge of the hot tub as Ben moved in front of her. He rested on his knees, his chiseled torso disappearing into the water with a splash of clear bubbles. “I’ll begin with your bottoms,” he said, his voice professional and matter-of-fact.
The last thing she saw before he ducked under the water was the tiny grin on his face. A second later, she jumped as his mouth latched onto her hip and tugged at the strings holding her bottoms together. His teeth grazed her skin. He tugged again and then one half of the triangle came loose.
Ben surfaced, wiping droplets off his somber face. “I’m sorry to inform you I couldn’t save the knot to the right of your hip, Ms. Reilly. I do, however, have high hopes for the left one.”
She choked back a laugh as he submerged again, and then shivered when he untied the second knot. Her bikini bottoms floated to the surface at the same time as Ben.
“Couldn’t save the left one either. It’s gone,” he said, pointing to the shiny green material as a rush of water carried it away to the other side of the hot tub.
“You’re a sad excuse for a doctor,” she said with mock anger.
“That’s what the producers at General Hospital said before they fired me,” he answered with a rueful smile. “But it was only my second acting gig, so how could they blame me for being unable to pronounce Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyneuropathy?”
“What on earth is that?”
“To this day I still have no clue.” He shrugged and then planted his gaze on her breasts, which were still covered. “I should take care of that.”
He skimmed his fingers over her wet, fevered shoulders and swiftly maneuvered her so that her back was to him. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, waited for the sting of his teeth against her skin, and exhaled a shaky breath when her top came loose and her breasts were bared.
Her nipples instantly jutted out, hardening even more when she shifted and one of the jets sent a gushing rush of heat right against her breasts.
“So…your bathing suit has been removed,” Ben whispered into her neck.
She twisted around to look at him. “Are you going to do that all night?”
“Do what?”
“Narrate.”
“Why, does it turn you on?”
She paused. “I’m actually pretty indifferent to it.”
“Indifferent?” His expression tightened with mock horror. “No woman of mine is ever allowed to feel indifference in my presence, sweetheart.”
No woman of mine?
Before she could figure that one out, Ben dipped his head and brushed a light kiss over her lips. “Trust me, babe, by the time I’m finished with you, you’re going to love my narration.”
He cocked one dark brow and reassumed that professional demeanor. “I think it’s time I paid some attention to—” he reached down and cupped her breasts, “—these.”
A jolt of desire streaked across her chest, down her belly and settled into an impatient throb between her legs.
“Not sure what my opening move will be, though,” he continued huskily. “Should I pinch?”
He rolled her nipples between his fingers and gave each pebbled nub a small pinch.
“Or squeeze?”
He squeezed.
“No, I’ve changed my mind. I think sucking will achieve the result I’m looking for.”
With a roguish smile, he slid lower into the water and covered one breast with his mouth. A breath blew out of her mouth and dissolved into the steam rising from the hot tub. Ben’s tongue began a torturous assault on her nipples, licking and swirling, laving and nipping.
And, each time, the pleasure became unbearable. Each time the scrape of his teeth brought a delicious sting of pain, he sucked it away. Sucked and kissed until she gave a primitive cry and sank under the water like a lump of clay.
With a chuckle, Ben grabbed her hips and brought her up. “I think it’s time for my fingers to get involved,” he said with a decisive nod.
The bubbles from the jets restricted her from seeing his hand, but she sure as hell felt it. Felt his fingers running down her throbbing slit, felt his thumb rubbing circles over her clit.
The throbbing grew worse. “No fingers,” she choked out. “I need more.”
“I’m sorry, we haven’t reached that part of the narrative yet.” He offered an apologetic shrug and continued his exploration of her pussy.
She groaned and fumbled for the waistband of his trunks. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” He skillfully pushed her roaming hand away. “And stop interfering.”
She almost bristled at his commanding tone but the hunger swarming his gaze stopped her. It was obvious he wanted her, and for a girl who’d never been wanted all her life, she received a sense of pride from his lust-filled expression.
She also received, after just a few short minutes of his finger sliding in and out of her, an orgasm. One that made her writhe and moan and shudder so hard she sent a tidal wave crashing over the side of the hot tub.
She gasped for air, inhaling a cloud of steam that warmed her cheeks. Heat consumed her body, heat from the fire burning inside her core, from the water splashing around her and the island breeze kissing her face.
“So, now I think that—” Ben started.
“Shut up. No more talking,” she ordered, rising from the tub on unsteady feet.
“Where are you going?”
“Inside. Where I’m going to lie naked on the bed. And you’re going to follow me, and take those damn trunks off, and then we’re going to fuck each other’s brains out.” She rolled her eyes. “How’s that for a narrative?”
Ben grinned. Without a word, he hopped out of the whirlpool, pinched her bare ass, and chased her into the bungalow. As she’d promised, she stretched out on the bed, naked and wet, watching as he reached for the waistband of his swimsuit. A second later, he was gloriously nude, all tanned skin and hard muscle, and so incredibly aroused her inner muscles gave an involuntary clench.
He stood there, silent and erect, and the teasing light left his blue eyes, replaced with a narrowed look of unrestrained sexual famine. She shivered under his hot stare, feeling like Little Red Riding Hood about to be consumed whole by the big bad wolf.
And oh, was Ben Barrett bad. Bad as he sheathed himself with a condom that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Bad as he stepped toward the bed. So very bad as he lowered himself on top of her and rubbed the tip of his cock over her swollen pussy.
“Maggie,” he rasped.
She waited for
him to say something more, but he didn’t. Instead, he tangled one hand in her damp hair, placed the other on her hip, and kissed her at the same time he drove deep inside her.
Her body stretched to accommodate him, and she instantly clamped her muscles over his shaft and arched her hips to bring him deeper. He groaned and dug his fingers into her waist, then slid all the way out only to pump right back in with a fast thrust.
Her eyes strayed to his biceps, where that tribal tattoo seemed to vibrate each time he flexed. Feeling unusually bold, she looped her arms around his neck, pulled him closer and ran her tongue over the black design inked on his arm.
His eyes narrowed into slits. “That’s seriously hot, you know.”
“That I’m licking your tattoo?” she murmured, continuing to trace the intricate pattern with the tip of her tongue.
“Uh-huh.”
She moved her head and nibbled on his earlobe. “What about this? Is this hot?”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
He stopped moving inside her, and she could feel his erection throbbing inside her unbelievably wet pussy.
“You’re close, aren’t you, Ben?” Oh man, did that throaty femme-fatale voice actually belong to her?
He responded with a mumbled expletive.
Smiling, she slid her hands down his sinewy back and grabbed his taut buttocks. “What are you waiting for then?”
“You.”
“Me what?”
“I’m waiting for you to tell me just how much you want it.” He rotated his hips and then withdrew again, his pace excruciatingly slow.
A shockwave rocked her core, causing her to squeeze his tight ass and buck against him. Suddenly she didn’t have the energy to tease or lick or prolong the inevitable.
“I want it very, very badly,” she choked out.
With a satisfied nod, he plunged into her again and swallowed her strangled cry with a hard kiss.
Sense of time and place eluded her as he pounded into her, as his mouth devoured hers and his fingers stroked her hair and her clit. She met his every thrust with the bucking of her hips, drank in his kisses, cried out his name. Waves of pleasure crashed over her. Perpetual. Unending. A climax so intense and extraordinary that her legs started to shake and shards of bright light exploded in front of her eyes.
The bliss only deepened when she felt Ben shudder, when she heard that low groan signaling his climax. She tightened her grip around his neck. When she pressed her breasts to his sweat-soaked chest, the erratic thumping of his heartbeat vibrated against her skin, making her own pulse race.
She didn’t know how long they lay there, and she didn’t care that the crush of his powerful chest restricted the flow of oxygen to her brain. She liked the weight of him. And the slick feel of him. And the spicy masculine scent of him. She knew she should move, get up, get dressed, put an end to this intimate moment, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she released a sigh and stroked his back, pressing her face to his chest as he slowly rolled over and brought her with him.
Next to her, Ben moistened his dry lips, reeling not so much from his climax but from Maggie’s odd behavior. Something had changed. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he sensed it as he held Maggie in his arms and threaded his fingers through her damp red hair. Somehow, in the ten minutes they’d lain there recovering from those mind-blowing orgasms, she’d dropped her guard. She hadn’t jumped out of the bed after the sex, hadn’t started rambling on about her schedule and schoolwork and all the reasons why being here with him was a bad idea.
She just lay there and let him stroke her hair.
He liked it.
A lot.
“So what now?” she asked after giving a big yawn. “Should we take a walk on the beach?”
“Says the redhead after yawning her face off,” he teased. “It’s okay to be tired, babe. To just lie around and do nothing.”
She shifted, moving onto her side so that her gaze locked with his. Her expression reflected uneasiness. “Doing nothing makes me anxious.”
He smiled. “I’ve noticed.”
“It’s not a bad thing, is it?”
“No, it’s not a bad thing. No need to get defensive.” He reached for her leg and lifted it so that it draped over his, not sure why he needed the physical contact so desperately. “I just think you need to learn how to relax every now and then.”
She didn’t answer, but the troubled look on her face spoke volumes. He wondered how many times she’d heard that before from the people in her life. Her friends. Co-workers. Tony. Though he wasn’t sure why, Ben suddenly grew certain that Maggie’s non-existent love life was a direct result of her need to always be doing something.
“What do you want from your life?” he found himself blurting. “Aside from being a social worker?”
Surprise flickered in her gaze, followed by a glimmer of confusion. “To be honest, I’ve never really thought past the career thing.”
“You don’t think about getting married? Or having children? Or heck, traveling, gardening, anything that doesn’t involve working?”
“Not really.” Before he could question the response, she turned the tables on him. “What about you? Do you ever think of a life beyond acting?”
“All the time.” A wry smile creased his mouth. “If I’m being honest, I’d tell you acting is definitely not what I’d thought it would be.”
“What did you hope to get from it?”
He paused to think about the question. Shit. He’d never let himself examine the hopes he’d had going into it. Or the unhappiness he felt now that his career had zigzagged in a direction he’d never wanted.
“Ben?”
He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to put it into words he’d never said out loud. “It’s…it’s like I bought a first-class ticket for passage on the Titanic,” he finally said. “You know, boarding the ship, getting caught up in the splendor of it, thinking I’m on top of the world. And then comes the iceberg and the ship sinks.”
“So what’s your iceberg?” she asked, reaching out to touch his chin.
He hadn’t shaved in days, and the feel of Maggie’s fingers skimming his rough beard made his groin tighten. She didn’t miss the way his cock jerked in response, but she wiggled her eyebrows and shot him a no-nonsense stare. “Oh no. We’re having a conversation. Stop trying to distract me.”
He grinned. “I didn’t do anything.”
“No, but he did.” She stared at his erection for a moment, and then shook her head as if to snap herself out of it. “So…the iceberg?”
“Being typecast,” he admitted. “I started acting because I loved it, but I also wanted to be recognized. Respected. Then I did one action flick and suddenly I’m known as bad boy macho man Ben Barrett. I haven’t been offered a decent role in years, Maggie. All I get are mindless let’s-blow-up-every-possible-thing-we-can films.”
She gave a dry smile. “Not that I have much experience in the movie industry, but one thing I’ve learned in life is that nobody’s going to give it to you. If you want something, you go after it.”
“I’m trying,” he answered in frustration.
“Try harder.”
Amazement washed over him. Damn, Maggie Reilly really was something. The women he knew would’ve done one of two things— laughed it off and told him to enjoy the money, or made a heartfelt speech about how one day someone would recognize his talent and give him a significant role. Not Maggie. Nope, she told him to try harder.
Oddly enough, it was just what he wanted—and needed—to hear.
She yawned again, the delicate muscles in her face stretching with fatigue. “You’re right. I’m tired,” she announced. “No beach walking tonight.”
They were both still naked, but Maggie didn’t seem to mind. Without an ounce of bashfulness, she stretched her arm out and fumbled on the end table for the remote control.
“I haven’t watched TV in ages,” she confessed with a tiny smile.
&nbs
p; Although Ben would have liked to indulge in a repeat performance of what they’d done a half hour ago, he decided to let Maggie enjoy herself. If watching television would finally make her relax, he was willing to do it.
When she flicked on the TV, however, what flashed across the screen was not a mindless sitcom or movie of the week, but Ben’s face.
“Hey, it’s one of your movies,” Maggie exclaimed. Before he could object, she raised the volume and the crack of gunfire filled the bungalow. “Huh. You’re right about all the explosions.”
Seeing his latest film play across the screen left Ben weary, but Maggie seemed to be enjoying it so he stayed quiet. He pulled her closer, wrapping one arm around her, and then turned his gaze to the movie, inwardly cringing at every loud blast and the sound of screeching tires from the car chase he’d loathed shooting.
The film dragged on, and next to him Maggie’s naked body grew warmer and her breathing evened out. She’d fallen asleep. He tried to fight back that prickle of insult but it was hard. Hell, his movies sucked so bad they even made Maggie, the workaholic energizer bunny, fall asleep. That hurt more than he’d ever admit.
Trying not to jolt her, he slowly reached for the remote control next to her sleeping body and flicked off the TV. Then he reached for the lamp beside him and turned that off too. Darkness draped the room, save for one clear shaft of moonlight that poured in through the sheer curtains.
With a sigh, Ben closed his eyes and touched Maggie’s hair again.
Just as he started to drift off, her soft voice broke through the silence in the room.
“You’re a good actor, Ben,” she murmured before making a breathy little noise and falling back into slumber.
Chapter Ten
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” Maggie declared the next evening.
She collapsed on the bed, her stomach full from the eight-course dinner they’d just indulged in and her skin pink from the hours they’d spent in the sun earlier in the day.