Working It

10

Emmy

I stood naked in front of the full-length mirror while the bathtub filled. Lazy heat vapors drifted toward the ceiling as I inspected myself in the mirror. My thighs jiggled when I walked, my breasts, while still high, would sag with their weight as I aged. It was just gravity. I pressed my hands into my fleshy hips, willing them to shrink. I’d never been so aware of my body in my entire life. It turned out getting naked with a supermodel would do that to you. I remembered Ben’s hoarse whisper, the desire in his voice when he said I was soft. But maybe I was only remembering it the way I wanted to. Maybe he’d prefer I had a six-pack, or a tiny, firm little butt.

Once the tub was filled, I stepped into the steaming hot water and sank down, submerging myself in the fragrant bubbles. I lathered every part of my body, exfoliated every inch, and shaved every bit of hair until I was bare. I shampooed and conditioned my hair, and made sure all of me was scrubbed clean. As much as I’d told myself that I couldn’t be with Ben again, I didn’t trust my body not to betray me.

I emerged pruned and boneless. But I felt wonderful. After wrapping myself in the fluffy robe from the wardrobe, I worked the calluses from my heel and, trimmed, filed and painted my fingernails and toenails. I plucked stray eyebrows in the magnifying mirror in the full sunlight pouring through my window where I could see every speck of everything. After every pore was extracted and spotless, I expertly applied my makeup and styled my hair. I slathered lotion on my skin, mixing in several droplets of baby oil. I was soft and glowing when I was done. I knew I couldn’t compete with the women Ben attracted, but my self-confidence had tripled in the last hour. I needed this. I wanted to feel sexy tonight. Powerful and in control. Ellie would be proud.

I slipped into my black skinny jeans, ballet flats, and a gauzy cream top that fell off one shoulder. I added a few chunky necklaces and fluffed my hair one last time. Ready as I’d ever be.

The dinner was being held at a swanky restaurant on the river. I found it strange that Fiona had booked the reservation for Ben’s birthday herself. I hoped she wasn’t going to shit a brick at the sight of me. I arrived a few minutes after eight and learned our party was still having drinks at the bar.

I took a moment to gather myself and scope out my surroundings. Deep beats of house music played in the background; glittering dim lighting from crystal chandeliers and beautiful people mingling at the high-top tables completed the ambience. I was glad I’d taken the time to make myself presentable.

Fiona’s shrill wave of accented laughter caught my attention. She, Ben, and a few others I didn’t recognize were at the far end of the bar. Ben looked scrumptious in tailored dark gray trousers and a button-down shirt rolled to his elbows, showing off those thick, sexy forearms coursing with veins. His shirt was open at the collar and memories of inhaling the skin at his neck danced through my mind. Fiona spotted me across the bar and her mouth pulled into a tight line. Ben’s smile fell at Fiona’s sudden change in mood and his gaze lifted to meet mine.

“Hi,” I mumbled weakly, suddenly regretting my decision to come.

Ben pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me, and all fears I had fell away. He wanted me here. Fiona could shove it.

“You came,” he whispered against my hair, breathing me in.

“Happy birthday.” I smiled up at him as he released me.

Ben grinned. One little tug of his mouth and my heart was beating like a drum. I could tell he’d already had a few drinks. His normally penetrating stare was relaxed and happy. And he was holding a glass of amber-colored liquor. The strong stuff.

“Hi, Fiona.” I gave her a cordial smile. I knew she wasn’t my biggest fan, but we could at least try to be civil about things.

“Emerson.” She tipped her head and turned her focus back to Ben.

I sensed the mood shift in the little group when I arrived, like they’d been in the middle of a story. But a strange hushed silence fell over the group as their eyes moved back and forth between me and Ben. I hated being the center of attention. I hated feeling scrutinized.

Stepping away, I murmured, “I’m going to grab a drink.”

I recognized one of the photographers from an earlier shoot and Madeline. I said hello, but she didn’t seem to recognize me even though I’d just met her a few days before. The few others were new faces.

Approaching the bar, I ordered a beer. You could take the girl out of the country but you’d never take the country out of the girl. The bartender filled a pint glass with amber-colored goodness and slid it toward me. Grabbing it with shaky hands, I took a long, icy sip.

When I rejoined the group, Fiona slyly smiled at me. “You know how many calories are in that, dear?”

Soft laughter erupted nervously across the group. They could sense the catfight brewing. Stupid industry people sipping their stupid skinny cocktails.

Ben stood across from me looking troubled. I didn’t like being responsible for that look. I didn’t want to be a source of tension between him and the head of the agency—our boss. I didn’t think she’d do anything foolish, like stop booking him for jobs—he was too valuable for that. But she could fire me. And something told me if I got too close to Ben, that’s exactly what she might do. I could handle her snarky comments about my clothing and calorie consumption. I didn’t want to blow this out of proportion, so I merely smiled and nodded and took another sip of my carbohydrates-rich drink.

“Fiona, can I have a word?” Ben asked.

“Of course, love.”

Fiona followed him around the corner and out of sight.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I slipped away from the group and trailed after them. In what universe was this okay? I must have been dropped as a baby. But if this was about me, I needed to know.

They stood at the far end of the hall in an alcove near the restrooms. I remained just out of sight, hidden around the corner, but near enough that I could hear their low, murmured conversation.

“We’re not curing cancer, Fiona; stop being so serious,” Ben said.

“I’m always serious where you’re concerned,” Fiona returned, her voice tense.

“Why don’t you tell me what this is really about?”

Fiona let out a heavy sigh. “I think you know.” She hesitated a moment, silence falling over them as my pulse thrummed in my ears. “You haven’t come by to see me lately. . . . Is this about her?” Her voice took on a whiny plea.

“I told you that was done. That has nothing to do with Emmy.”

Holy shit. What did this conversation have to do with me? And why was my spine tingling like there was something big I was missing here?

“Just be civil,” Ben added.

“Then don’t shag my assistant,” Fiona hissed.

“Calm down, pussy cat,” Ben chuckled. “It is my birthday, after all.”

“Love, if you want birthday sex, all you have to do is ask,” Fiona’s sultry, accented voice whispered.

“Fiona . . .” Ben warned, letting the rest of the statement hang in the air.

All the oxygen was sucked from my lungs. Had they slept together? I didn’t doubt that Fiona would be interested, but would Ben do that? Damn, this situation was far more complicated that I’d imagined.

“Do you have plans for a girl later?” Fiona asked.

“No girls, Fiona, I told you. You can relax.”

My legs felt shaky, but I pushed them into action, disappearing back down the hall before I was discovered. Rejoining the group, I stood on trembling legs, sucking down mouthfuls of the icy-cold drink until my temples throbbed. Ben and Fiona rounded the corner and he crossed the room to stand next to me, letting his hand rest at the small of my lower back. The contact made me jump and I sloshed a bit of the beer from the rim of my glass.

“You okay?” Ben murmured beside me.

“I’m fine.”

He took a deep breath and reached for my hand. “Our table’s ready. Come on.”

Ben sat between me and Fiona, which was good because I wasn’t above flicking a booger in her food, given the chance. Lord knows she’d deserve it. She leaned over him, reading the menu and pointing out things he would like, which annoyed me to no end. He ordered the salade Niçoise. I wondered if he ever got to actually eat what he liked. It seemed like a birthday was the one day you should be entitled to do so. I sure as heck wouldn’t order a salad on my birthday.

I switched to sparkling water toward the end of dinner. I wanted to be clearheaded for later. I didn’t know if I’d get any alone time with Ben. But if I did, I wanted to be thinking clearly. I needed to know what was happening between us. Clouding my head with alcohol probably wouldn’t help any. And I didn’t want to see Fiona have a coronary at the table if I ordered another beer.

The guests chatted with Ben throughout much of the meal. I quickly learned the others in our party were more executives for luxury brands that Fiona was trying to book. I was so frustrated, I couldn’t even look at her fake smile. Tonight was supposed to be a relaxing, low-key night for him, but of course she had turned it into a job interview. Ben politely fielded all their questions, acting like none of it bothered him, but I could tell it did. I nibbled on my food and stayed quiet for the most part, but Ben glanced my way several times and once squeezed my hand under the table.

The drinks continued flowing after dinner, and Fiona told story after story about Ben, designed to either impress our guests or scare me away. She painted him as quite the playboy, and my dinner churned in my stomach with each new bit of information.

“We were in Singapore, what was it, two years ago, love?”

Ben nodded.

“We were on set for Versace, and he was all sour and mardy.”

Ben grimaced, like he knew the story she was about to tell.

“He hadn’t been sleeping well—jetlag, and all that.”

“Fiona,” he warned, his voice dropping lower.

“Oh, hush; it’s funny, love.” Fiona waved a hand in his direction then turned back to the group. “It was a brilliant set, beautiful clothes, and our gorgeous model here was pissy—in need of a good shag. I knew he needed to take the edge off before we started shooting.” A few of the business executives leaned forward in interest and Madeline’s cheeks grew pink. Ben was growing increasingly agitated. He removed the napkin from his lap and balled it on the table beside his plate.

Fiona continued, “So I found this little assistant in the back, asked if her duties extended to oral, and shoved her at Ben. She took one look at him and nodded, pulling him into an empty broom closet. I don’t know what happened next; all I know is that when he emerged fifteen minutes later, there was a smile on his face.”

The table erupted in soft laughter. A lump lodged in my throat and I had to take a drink of water to get my windpipe working again.

Fiona’s story demonstrated that Ben was in an entirely different category of men. He’d lived and worked all over the world, and apparently got blow jobs from assistants at the drop of a hat. Did he even remember her name? Was that what I was to him? A plaything to take the edge off? That was exactly why I wasn’t cut out for this. Sex meant more to me. There was no way to separate the physical connection from the emotional in my mind. Ellie was right. I never should’ve slept with him. But I also knew if he asked me to bed again, I probably wouldn’t say no. Part of me wished I was stronger; part of me was dreaming up ways to get him alone later.

Fiona carried over a large bag filled with wrapped gifts, taking each one out and placing them in front of Ben.

He smiled and tried to act humbled, opening each one and thanking the giver. An Hermès scarf, Cartier watch, Balenciaga satchel, men’s grooming kit—some luxury brand I didn’t recognize but was surely out of my price range.

I did get him something, or rather made him something. It was in poor taste to show up to a birthday party empty-handed, but there was no way I was going to embarrass myself by whipping out a homemade gift among this extravagance. It would stay tucked in my purse. Thank you very much.

Fiona packed the gifts back in the bag and asked the restaurant if a concierge could have them delivered to the hotel. It was amazing to see she was actually capable of making her own arrangements.

After dinner, coffee was poured but there was no dessert. What was a birthday party without cake? Ben looked bored to tears. I needed to rescue him. I leaned in closer. “No cake on your birthday? That’s practically a crime.”

He shrugged. “I’m not allowed to have cake.”

“Allowed?” I wasn’t gluten free, all organic, diary free, or vegan. I liked food. I often ate too much of it. Sue me. “We need cake.” I pushed my chair back from the table and grabbed my handbag. “Thank you for dinner,” I said to Fiona. Then I grabbed Ben’s hand. “Come on.”

His eyes widened and darted up to mine, and after a second of hesitation he rose to his feet. “Fiona.” He bent to press a kiss to her cheek.

She smiled, fake as all get out. “Off so soon?”

He shrugged. “Yes, if that’s okay with you all.” He directed the question to the table.

Everyone nodded and smiled, no one willing to disagree with him.

Genius.

Fiona couldn’t say anything. Everyone else had already agreed. I could’ve kissed him. But I would save that for later.

Once we were safely outside the restaurant, Ben gripped my hand, lacing his fingers between mine, his mouth twitching in a smile. “Phew. Thank you for rescuing me.”

I beamed up at him, feeling like an utter genius, and squeezed his hand.

We ventured to the bar/restaurant inside the lobby of our hotel, slid into a secluded booth, and ordered two glasses of fizzy champagne.

When the server came back, I ordered the biggest slice of chocolate cake they had.

“Really?” Ben grinned at me. “Sure you can handle all that, sweetheart?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Bring it on.”

When the server delivered the cake, it was with a little Parisian smirk. It was towering off the plate.

“I didn’t expect it to be so large,” I commented.

Ben’s eyebrows raised suggestively. He handed me a spoon. “Ladies first.”

I was about to argue that it was his birthday and he should do the honors, but his stern expression left no room for discussion. I accepted the proffered spoon and dug into the dense cake. My favorite bite, the little triangle piece right from the tip. Ben’s eyes followed my movements, watching as my mouth closed around the spoon.

“Mmm,” I moaned, dropping my head back. His eyes widened and he visibly swallowed.

Ben dug in, joining me in chocolate bliss. “I haven’t had cake in . . . years.” He took a bite and his eyes slipped closed as he chewed. “Holy shit.”

I laughed. These calories were sooo worth it. So was watching Ben’s expression. He clearly enjoyed himself. Ben leaned back against the booth, crossing his arms and observing me. I took another bite, licking the chocolate frosting from my spoon. As my tongue darted out, his breathing hitched, his chest rising and falling systematically. I liked that I was having an effect on him. Lord knows he affected me. My entire body hummed in arousal when he was near. And forget it when he swept that deep hazel gaze fringed with dark lashes over my curves. I mentally parted my knees, ready and waiting.

“Hope it’s been a good birthday.” I lifted my champagne glass and clinked it against his.

“It is now.”

I smiled at the compliment, glad I’d had the courage to save him. “I got you something, well, made you something.”

“You made me something? What is it?”

“It’s nothing big; I just felt dumb giving it to you at the restaurant.”

He leaned back in his seat, studying me. “I like that you waited.” Ben’s gaze followed my movement as I reached into my purse to retrieve the gift.

I handed him a flat package wrapped in brown paper, suddenly feeling like an idiot. This isn’t sixth grade, Emmy.

Ben looked down at the gift, his eyes wide and filled with disbelief. “You made this for me?”

I nodded sheepishly.

“I’ve never gotten a homemade gift.” He held it with reverence as if it were something priceless and important, rather than a CD—a playlist I’d burned just for him.

“It’s nothing. Open it.” Homemade gifts and cards were pretty much the norm in my family. Growing up, we didn’t have much extra money and we tended to get creative.

Ben tore away the paper and smiled when he saw the silver disk with my messy writing scrawled in black marker: Birthday Boy. I picked out a bunch of sexy jams, songs I was hoping he hadn’t heard before from the eclectic mix of music on my laptop.

“Thank you, this is awesome. The best gift I got all night.” His smile was genuine for the first time tonight, reaching his eyes and crinkling the corners.

My heart pounded in a strange rhythm, knowing he was watching me. These simple acts—the cake, the homemade gift—I don’t know why, but he acted as if these gestures meant more to him than the thousand-dollar dinner and extravagant gifts he had just received.

“You’re welcome,” I murmured. Why my voice had gone all husky and low, I didn’t know.

“Let’s get out of here.” His tone left little room for argument. But wasn’t this what I wanted? I wanted to feel desired and sexy, to lose myself in this man.

The glass of fizzy champagne had gone straight to my head, and I clutched Ben’s arms as we made our way to the elevator. He was unusually quiet and intense, and I wondered what was going on inside his head.

Once inside the elevator, Ben left no doubt where we were headed. He punched the button for his floor then turned to face me, caging me in with his arms against the wall. He dipped his head to inhale the scent of my neck, sending a rush of pleasure tingling down my body.

“Come upstairs with me,” he growled, his warm breath washing over the curve of my jaw. My pulse drummed in my throat where his lips hovered.

I didn’t answer—couldn’t. My body wanted this. My brain wasn’t so sure. Whatever was between him and Fiona was a definite concern. Once he was done with me, it would be like a Taylor Swift song—heartbreak city. No amount of ice cream or vodka would cheer me up. Would I lose my job, too?

Ben pulled back and met my eyes, his fingertips grazing the thinking lines etched into my forehead. “Hey,” his voice went all soft and sweet. “Stop fighting this.”

Easy for him to say. I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat. “I don’t do the casual sex thing.”

“Who said that’s what I wanted?” I remembered his earlier comment that only three girls had gotten it. I guess that made me lucky number four. “You’re the one who ran out of my room the other night.”

Why had I done that? I’d been tipsy from the alcohol, and humiliated that I let things go that far. I knew my heart was already engaged, and it was safer and easier to flee than face an awkward postsex discussion. “Ben, what am I supposed to think? You’re you . . . and I’m me . . .”

Confusion fixed across his features and his mouth pulled into a tight line, but he stayed silent.

The elevator stopped, and he motioned for me to exit as the doors slid open. We walked to his room in silence.

When we reached his room, Ben, still watching me quietly, let me inside.

“I’m sorry I left,” I said.

He nodded and lifted my hand to his mouth. “Spend the night with me.”

Raw need blossomed inside me. I was powerless against his charms. “Like a sleepover?”

“Yes. With playtime,” Ben confirmed, a smirk tugging his lips.

My pulse thundered in my ears. “I like playtime.”

His hands circled my waist, hauling me closer. “Good girl. And this time I get to taste that sweet pussy.”

I turned bright pink and my knees trembled. I braced my hands against his shoulders, needing something sturdy to grasp on to. I nodded, completely lost and falling. Falling for this beautiful man whose deep hazel eyes were watching mine.

“I want you. It’s simple. Don’t make it complicated,” he whispered.

My eyes slipped closed. “This isn’t just sex, Ben.”

Soft fingertips stroked my jaw. “I know, beautiful. Stop assuming you know what I want. I’ve never had a girl like you. Soft . . .” His thumb caressed my cheek. “Sweet . . .” His lips pressed over mine. “And southern . . .” His hand found my backside and he squeezed, pulling me closer. “Let me do this. Let me have you, Emmy.”

I opened my eyes and nodded. He could have anything he wanted, so long as he touched me soon. My knees were jelly and my nipples were hard and tingling. “Only if I can have you, too.”

“You can have anything you want.” His tone was so solemn, so sincere, I believed him.

With a sudden burst of confidence that I could have this man, I dropped to my knees in front of him. I needed to consume him, to own him. I fought with his belt and button then tugged open his zipper. His hands remained at his sides, and when my eyes fluttered up to watch his, a playful smirk was tugging his lips. The growing bulge in his trousers proved he wasn’t as calm and in control as his expression demonstrated.

Seeing him up close and personal was so intimate; I nuzzled my nose and mouth against his flesh, breathing in his scent. He smelled so good. A trace of soap and musk. All man. I wanted more. Moving lower, I pressed tender kisses along his length and heard him suck in a breath.

I could feel him watching me. Knowing he was looking down at me only fueled my desire and I licked and suckled as I tried to take him deeper. His hips pushed forward as he invaded my mouth, and my hands scrambled to stroke his engorged shaft.

It was a powerful thing, pleasing him like this, being in control of his pleasure. I thrust my mouth down around his cock, taking him all the way to the back of my throat. His large length hit my tonsils and I gagged, salivating around him. Ben moaned and his knees went stiff. I knew I had done something right. I loved learning what he liked. If he wasn’t going to tell me, it was up to me to find out. And, apparently, he liked it deep. I continued my ministrations, not stopping until he bumped against the back of my throat with each thrust.

“Yeah baby, fuck.” His fingertips threaded through my hair, tugging me closer. A low whimper escaped the back of his throat, the sound raw and primal. A rush of endorphins hit my bloodstream and I tightened my grasp around him, needing him closer, wanting him inside me. I let his cock fall free from my mouth and rose on shaky feet. His big hands cradled my jaw, and he kissed me deeply, his tongue flirting with mine.

“Ben . . .”

“Anything you want . . .” he breathed against my mouth.

I had no idea how to ask for what I wanted, so instead I kissed him again, the one thing I felt confident with. His breathing was accelerated, just like mine, so I at least felt comforted that I wasn’t alone in the craziness overtaking my system.

He tugged at the button on my jeans, popping it open while he kissed me. “Take off your panties, baby. I need to be inside you.”

His deep, sexy voice sent shivers racing down my spine as I fought for control. His fingers skimmed across my belly, lighting up my nerve endings and making my pulse race.

“I don’t want to use a condom. I want to feel you. I’m clean. Are you on the pill?”

I nodded and it was all the information he needed. He captured my mouth in a hungry kiss and his hands found mine. He helped me pull my jeans and panties down my legs until I was bare from the waist down.

Ben suddenly lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He walked us backward until my back hit the wall, forcing a breath from my lungs. I groaned at the sensation of his thick erection pressing against me. I ground my hips against his. But Ben, always in control, made no move to join our bodies and continued kissing me deeply. I craved him, I needed him.

“Ben . . .” I whimpered, breaking free from the kiss.

“Tell me what you want.” His lips rubbed against mine as he spoke, our foreheads resting together.

Was he serious? I could feel his erection nudging me. “Please.”

“Beg for it, baby.”

“Bennn . . . I need you . . . deep inside me . . .”

His guttural moan sent a new wave of wetness rushing against his hardened flesh. He was teasing me, running his slickened manhood along me, making me whimper.

“You want me to fuck that beautiful pussy, baby?” Ben pressed his hard tip against me without entering.

“Yes please. Ben, fuck me.” How I always seemed to end up begging for him I had no idea, but this man made me crazy with desire. I’d never been this way before—this out of control and desperate. He pushed against me, sliding inside slowly, letting his body invade mine until he was deeply buried within me. The pleasure/pain combo sent a groan tumbling from my throat. I gripped his shoulders and he held my ass in his hands, lifting me up and down, fucking me hard and without mercy.

My back bumped against the wall with each thrust, but I didn’t care if I had bruises tomorrow. I wanted it hard. Needed it. I needed him to claim me and show me I was his. Watching Ben lose control was a thing of beauty. His face remained impassive, but his pulse thrummed in his neck and his muscles tensed and quivered as he held my weight.

Never normally vocal during sex, I mumbled his name and moaned with each stroke. Sex had never been so intimate before. This was more than sharing in bodily pleasure. Ben’s gaze stayed locked on mine as he read my every cue, responded to my every need. I braced my hand on the wall behind my head. Ben’s hand cradled the back of my head in his hand.

“Is this hurting you?” Without waiting for my answer, he walked us across the room and tossed me down on the bed.

The physical separation was abrupt and unwelcome. I instantly missed him. His erection hung heavily between us and I couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward on the bed and plant a damp kiss against his tip. His hands moved to my hair and arranged it away from my face.

His eyes were dark, his pupils dilated as he watched me. “Fuck, girl. You’re too good.”

I smiled up at him, and Ben’s hand cupped my cheek, stroking lovingly as his eyes met mine. I felt beautiful. Desirable. Tugging him by the hand, I pulled him onto the bed. I needed him closer.

Once he’d successfully rid me of my shirt and bra, Ben pressed against me again, easing inside me slowly. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on as he rocked into me, slowly at first, letting me adjust, then with an urgent rhythm.

He felt incredible. Big. Almost too big, but pleasurably so. I lost myself in the sensations: the roughness of his stubbled jaw rubbing my cheek, his fingertips biting into my hips, his broad chest rasping against mine as he moved over me.

Losing all control, his body pounded against mine ruthlessly, bringing us closer and closer to release. I wanted to make it last, to savor everything he had to offer, but all too soon the pressure built inside me. Ben read my body and slowed his thrusts, dragging himself almost all of the way out of me and sinking in again slowly. My back arched and I tilted my pelvis to meet him, letting the sensations overtake me. I came loudly, groaning his name in a litany of murmured whispers. Ben pressed his mouth to my neck, lightly biting me as he found his release. His body shuddered against mine as hot jets of semen exploded within me.

Refusing to move, we lay together in bed, a heap of sweaty, tangled limbs and sheets strewn about. I was glad to see there was no postsex awkwardness. Why had I been so desperate to flee last time? Ben was proving to be nothing like I would have imagined. He wasn’t the overconfident, self-absorbed model my worst fears had made him out to be. He was sweet and caring and apparently liked to cuddle. He pulled me close, his arms circling my waist in a tight embrace.

Once our breathing had returned to normal, Ben lifted up on one elbow to look down on me. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I smiled. I liked the easy playfulness between us.

“I have an extra toothbrush, pajamas, whatever you want.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead then removed himself from the bed. I got a peek at his tight backside before he slipped back into his discarded boxer briefs. He removed a white T-shirt from his wardrobe and tossed it on the bed for me before heading into the bathroom. He left the door open and I could hear the water running and the soft hum of his electric toothbrush.

I stretched in the bed, taking my time before moving. Slipping the T-shirt over my head, I joined him in the bathroom. I guessed he was serious about this being a sleepover. With toothpaste bubbles on his bottom lip, he smiled lazily and surveyed me from head to toe. Messy bedroom hair, smudged makeup, and an oversized T-shirt that fell to midthigh. By the look on his face, you’d think he’d never seen me look more gorgeous.

He leaned in to kiss me, leaving a dot of toothpaste on my top lip. “I like you in my clothes.” Ben handed me a spare toothbrush, still wrapped in plastic, and leaned down to rinse his mouth.

This felt very comfortable and domestic, sharing a sink with him. I liked it. I couldn’t help but notice his bottles of pills were neatly lined up on the counter. I wanted to ask him about them, but Ben wiped his mouth and headed out, giving me some privacy. All types of special creams and serums lined his bathroom vanity, but I liked that he seemed to be low maintenance. I didn’t think I could handle a guy who had a more involved bathroom regimen than me.

When I returned to the bedroom, Ben had turned off the lights so just the dim glow of the bedside lamp illuminated my path to the bed. He lifted the covers and I crawled in beside him. He wasted no time pulling me closer so that we lay spooned together.

“You feel so good,” he mumbled against my neck “So soft. So warm.”

I relished the feel of his arms around me. I felt safe. And warm. And feminine. His hard body pressed against mine. The few times I’d spent the night with my college boyfriend, he’d rolled over, facing away from me to sleep, his large back looming like an impenetrable wall. And when I tried to hug him from behind, he’d shrug me off, saying he was too hot. This was different . . . and nice. Our own little warm cocoon, away from the prying eyes of the world. He didn’t have to be the man everyone expected, and I wasn’t the meek little assistant, out of her element. I was just Emmy. I felt at peace.

Ben pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in until my back was pressed against his front. “Sleep, baby.”

I couldn’t forget the pills I’d seen in his bathroom. I knew now might not be the best time to ask, but . . . “Ben?” I whispered.

“Hmm?”

I couldn’t resist asking the question burning a hole in my brain. “Those pills in your bathroom . . . I know I shouldn’t pry, but . . .”

He released a heavy breath.

“Tell me.” I rolled over to face him, his features barely visible in the soft moonlight. “Are you okay? Are you sick?”

“I’m okay, Emmy,” he whispered.

“That’s a lot of pills, Ben. I’m just worried.”

His warm hand captured mine and squeezed. “I don’t want to hide anything from you.”

“So don’t,” I whispered.

He was quiet for a moment, just the sounds of our breathing in the silent room. “But I also don’t want to scare you away.”

My heart rate kicked up a notch. Did he have a pill-popping addiction? Was he sick? I braced for the worst. “You won’t. I’m here.”

“Just don’t go anywhere.”

I squeezed his hand back. “I’m not planning on it.” I was here for the next three months, or however long this thing between us lasted. He was quickly getting under my skin.

“I will tell you. But it’s a conversation for another time.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t going to lie. I was a little disappointed. Now seemed like a fine time, we were safe and warm, and it was dark. But Ben wasn’t ready. I guess I had to respect that.

“Rest, baby.” He clutched me tighter, like he was truly afraid I was going to leave.

I closed my eyes, curling into his warm body, and tried not to worry about what the future might hold.

Within a few minutes he was breathing deeply against the skin on the back of my neck, his heavy exhales signaling he’d already fallen asleep. I couldn’t help remembering all the times he said he had trouble sleeping, and a smile overtook my mouth. He was asleep. My baby. I curled my legs up, getting comfortable, and let him hold me.