Accidental Sex Goddess (24 page)

BOOK: Accidental Sex Goddess
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She smiled slightly and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“God, Reese, I’ve always wanted you.” Ben kept her body pressed close as they toured the dance floor. “Were you not there the day we met?”

She tensed in his arms. “You told me you regretted everything about that day.”

He squeezed her more tightly. “I was an idiot.”

They danced, and he kept his hand on her back. His mouth teased the edges of her ear until he couldn’t handle it anymore, until he needed her alone.

He pulled her into a coatroom tucked behind a server station and shut the door behind them.

The door muffled the sounds from the dance floor, but he still spoke against her ear. “I loved every minute of touching you that night. You were sweet and sexy and so goddamn wet from the slightest touch.”

He slipped a hand between their bodies. The satin slid under his fingers as he touched her. At her soft moan, he cupped a breast in his hand, his thumb finding her taut nipple through the fabric. “I’ve never forgotten what you looked like, laid out on the couch for me, letting me open your legs and touch you.”

He scraped her nipple with his thumb, and she moaned on a ragged breath. “You let me kiss you. Taste you. I’ve never forgotten how you tasted. Hot and wet against my mouth.”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” The words came out hard and rough, but that was how he felt. Hard and rough and so fucking vulnerable it made him crazy.

“I can’t pretend I’m okay with this flirting and teasing never going anywhere. I can’t pretend the sex doesn’t mean anything to me. I can’t go back to the way things were before.”

Laughter burst out of him at that. “
Before
? What before?”

“Before the kiss. Before the phone sex and…everything else.”

He pressed her against the wall and slid his hands up her sides. “Before you started this program? When I wanted you every day and had to watch you moon over Mark?”

“He was safe. But you—”

He silenced her with a kiss, then slipped his hand into the slit of her skirt and dug his fingers into the bare flesh of her hip. “Or before that? When you moved in with Lance and dropped me from your life completely?” His fingers found the string above her hipbone and followed it to the small of her back.

She gasped and rocked her hips toward him.

He dropped his mouth to her ear. “Or should we go back to before that—to the day I walked you home for the first time, to the night you let me kiss you. You let me touch you.” He circled his fingers at the small of her back, then let them dip, following the satin of her thong and tracing the seam of her ass.

Her breathing hitched and she drew in a shaky breath.

“I could go for that
before
. Before I had to pretend not to notice the way your hair curls when it’s humid out, before I had to pretend I don’t respond like any man would to the way your ass fills your jeans. Before I was so damn terrified I might screw up and lose you.”

“Ben.” She put her hands to his chest—to pull him close or push him away, he couldn’t tell, but she did neither.

“Jesus, Reese, I can’t go back to
before
either.”

“I loved you,” she said softly. “I was scared too.”


Loved
?” he growled. “It’s not past tense for me. Don’t you know that? I fell in love with you six years ago, and I never stopped.”

“Me either.”

He pressed her against the wall. With one hand, he cuffed her hands above her head while the other curved into the flesh of her ass.

He lowered his mouth, slanted over her and rubbed tongue against tongue. She moaned, sending a shudder through him.

He broke the kiss to remove their masks. He tried to memorize her like this—face flushed with desire, eyes clouded with want, lips swollen from his assault on her mouth. He traced the seam of her ass again, watching her lips part, her eyes go wide.

“You’re so damn hot.”

“We should go back to the party,” she said, her breathing shallow.

“Definitely.” He lifted her leg to his waist, opening her. “They’ll be looking for you,” he said, his fingers already sliding beneath the satin of her panties. He dipped his fingers into her, wetting them before tracing back up.

“God.”

“Or you could stay in here with me,” he whispered.

“Keep talking.”

“You want me to talk or do something else with my mouth?”

She trembled against him, hands fumbling at his waistband. She released his cock from his pants and stroked.

“Reese,” he groaned against her neck. God, her hands on him were amazing.

“Please tell me you have a condom.”

His cock pulsed harder, thicker. He almost suggested that they wait, that he take her home, but he saw it in her eyes. The heat, the need.

Ben took the package from his pocket and slid the condom on. “Hold on,” he said, nodding to the coat rack.

She looked him in the eye and wrapped her hands around the metal bars over her head. “Do this before?”

“About a thousand times in my dreams.” He pressed her into the wall and slid his hands behind her ass. “And it was always you in my arms.”

She wrapped her legs around him, and he slowly slid inside her.

The cacophony of the party sounded on the other side of the door as they moved together.

She gasped as he filled her, breath catching as he pressed himself closer, deeper, held her, fucked her, loved her.

“Ben,” she breathed.

She rolled her hips, rocked them. And he held her, slid inside her again and again.

“You’re so amazing,” he whispered. “I love you.” He wanted to keep saying it, to keep kissing her, to stay inside her and never lose her again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Welcome!” Reese said, wrapping her arms around Tricia. “Sledgehammers are to the left, the bar is to the right!”

Halie was having a “Smash and Get Smashed” party at McCormack Manor to celebrate the beginning of the renovations. She’d invited half the town and insisted her employees invite their friends as well. Since Reese wasn’t so sure about a bunch of intoxicated adults wielding sledgehammers, she was encouraging any wall smashing to happen early in the evening—before she and Ben hid the hammers.

Trish gave Reese a hug. “Don’t you look cute in your little black dress? Really, could you please wear something dowdy so that boyfriend of your will keep his hands off you for a few minutes?”

“I know,” Masey said, coming in behind Tricia. “Their sex life has given mine an inferiority complex.”

Reese released Tricia and shrugged. “I could wear a brown bag on my head, and I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t make a difference.” She couldn’t help but smile. Because it was true. Because Ben made her feel so damn sexy no matter what she was wearing. But mostly she smiled because she’d hardly stopped smiling in the last two months. She hadn’t sold her condo, and yet somehow she found herself falling asleep next to Ben every night and waking up next to him every morning.

“Mark’s over by the bar,” Ben said, joining them by the front doors. “He was asking for you, Masey.”

“Which way was the bar again?” Masey asked.

Ben pointed.

“Okay, see you later,” Masey said, turning in the opposite direction.

Ben frowned. “What’s that about?”

“She’s been acting weird since she bought him as her escort at the masquerade ball,” Reese said, frowning after her friend.

“Think they did it?” Tricia asked.

Ben grunted. “Let’s hope so. Mark needs a new woman to pursue.”

Reese nudged him.

“Mark and Masey?” Tricia said. “Damn, can you imagine how beautiful their children would be?”

“We don’t even know that anything happened between them,” Reese corrected. The last thing Masey needed was rumors flying. “Let’s not marry them off just yet, okay?”

Trish shrugged then caught sight of Halie. “The place is gorgeous,” she squealed, leaving Reese and Ben to greet her friend.

“Did I show you what I was going to do with the kitchen?” Ben whispered in Reese’s ear. They were alone now, so she wasn’t sure why he was whispering, but it felt good to have him stand so close, have his hot breath run against her ear.

“Why don’t you refresh my memory?”

She led him down the dark hall.

He pulled her through the swinging door and into the dimly-lit gourmet kitchen. Evening light slanted in the windows lighting up an old commercial-grade stove and stainless steel countertops.

Ben pressed her against a wall and kissed her. It was a good kiss. Patient. Soft. Slow. Thorough. But the longer his mouth was on hers, the less patient he became. His hands had found the hem of her dress.

“Party,” she reminded him on a moan, but even as she said it, she found her legs parting, making room for his hand to explore what was under her dress.

His hand crept further north and he groaned.

Make that what
wasn’t
under her dress.

“They won’t miss us,” he said, his mouth against her neck.

“Reese, you in here?” Luke said, pushing through the doors as if on cue. He spotted them then spun around, giving them his back. “Come on, you guys.”

Reese bit her lip.

“What’d you need, Luke?” Ben asked.

“Halie wanted Reese out front,” he grumbled, then pushed back through the door. “Can’t keep their hands off each other for five minutes.”

Reese sighed. “I think we’re starting to annoy our friends.”

Ben nibbled at her neck and stroked between her legs until she gasped. “They’re just jealous.”

“I need to get out front though,” she said, shimmying away from him.

He groaned and held her fast. “Did I mention that I’d be working this job for months? That’s a lot of lunch breaks.”

“Think you might need some company for any of those?”

He slid his hands down her back and hauled her up against him so she could feel his erection. “A lot. I get lonely, you know.”

“Hmm,” she said against his lips. “I’m not sure how Halie would feel about us
having lunch
all over her house.”

“Well, it is her fault we’re like this.”

“I guess if you look at it that way…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Down the hall, the click of heels sounded, coming closer.

“Reese, do you know where the rest of the crystal wine glasses are?” Halie called.

Reese ignored her boss and slid her hands into Ben’s hair.

The swinging door squeaked as it opened again. “Oh, you two,” Halie said. “Never mind.”

Another squeak and they were alone.

“Told you she wouldn’t care,” Ben murmured against her lips. “I think you’re her favorite success story.”

“I didn’t change all that much,” Reese protested.

“You and I know that,” Ben said with a shrug. “I would like you to change one little thing about yourself for me though.”

Reese stepped back and crossed her arms. “Tread carefully, Mister.”

He took her hand. “Wear this for me.”

Reese felt the cool metal of the ring before she saw the diamond-encrusted band. “Oh.”

“Marry me, Reese,” Ben said, his green eyes crinkling in the corners. “Let’s commit our lives to making our friends jealous and nauseating our relatives.”

She ran her hand over his jaw, his scruffy cheeks, her chest tight with happiness. “You promise to assist me in any crazy sex goddess training my boss sends me through?”

“If I must.” He knotted his hands in her hair and studied her. “I love you, Reese.”

“I love you too, Ben.”

“You haven’t said
yes
yet.”

“I’m gonna make you sweat it,” she said. “Someone taught me all about delayed gratification.”

He growled. “He was an idiot.”

“Hey, watch how you talk about my fiancé.”

 

THE END

 

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TEXT APPEAL

CHAPTER ONE

 

“Hello, my name is Riley, and I am addicted to sexy lingerie.” Riley Carter steeled herself to walk past Fredrick’s of Hollywood without spending next week’s paycheck. She kept her stride long and even, moving along with the Miracle Mile crowd in the oppressive Las Vegas heat. With every step, disappointment crushed her internal lingerie junkie.

“Keep moving, Riley,” she told herself. But then she made a tactical error. She glanced at the store’s window and saw four big red letters dooming her to a month of tap water and peanut butter sandwiches: SALE.

The mother ship was calling her home.

Riley peeked over each shoulder, scanning the crowd for familiar faces before tucking her head and making a sharp right into the store.

“Senorita Carter,” Javier, the doorman, said as she entered the store. “We’ve missed you. Where’ve you been?”

Heat blasted her cheeks. She’d failed in her attempts to break her slightly naughty and very secret little addiction. She had made some progress, though. It had been twenty-six days, two hours and—she glanced at her watch—five minutes since she’d fed her inner vixen. In that time, she hadn’t bought a single bustier, teddy, or lacey panty. “It hasn’t been that long,” she said, but it had felt like an eternity. So what? She had a lingerie addiction. She lived in Sin City, where people came to feed old addictions—and find new ones. In comparison, lingerie was harmless—though an old-fashioned crack habit might have been cheaper.

“Big sale today,” Javier was saying, but she’d already zeroed in on the sale racks, mentally calculating her budget.

To her right, a mannequin wore a black leather bustier with red piping and matching corset laces—not a sale item. She wondered if Chaz would approve of it—or of any of the hundreds of naughty-but-never-worn items in her collection. She imagined the leather hugging the underside of her breasts, leaving the tops exposed. She had a pair of red stilettos that would look fabulous with—

Focus, Riley
!

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