Fade In (27 page)

I giggle a little because he is so damn cute. “So tough. Okay. What do I have to do?”

“I'll be nice. This time.” That's disappointing. “As lovely as they are, the scarf and sweater have to go.”

Refusing to bring light to the fact that he's chosen two items and I’m only wearing three, I simply comply. I'm not anything close to graceful as I unwind the long knit scarf from around my shoulders and let the sweater fall off my arms. Here I stand in nothing more than my long peignoir, my hair a total mess.

“That wasn't so bad,” I offer.

“If you knew what I was thinking, you wouldn't agree.” I hear the lust in his voice.

I'm not wearing a bra, which is plainly obvious. And the neckline of this nightgown is very low in the front and the back. With only thin straps to hold it up, the long, light pink fabric almost touches the floor.

“Will you turn around for me, baby? Please?”

I do, and I hear him say, “Jesus Christ,” to himself. I've found another good reason to wear pretty pajamas.

“You're up,” I say a little shyly but think to myself,
I bet he's up all right.

It's weird, standing with this scrap of distance between us. It's such a tease to see him so close yet far enough away that I could reach out and touch him. It's taking control I don't think I’ll have for much longer.

“You said you were scared of being blind earlier. What's the scariest part for you?”

Damn. One question in. My knee-jerk reaction is to do one of those Gilligan things and take something else off. But I've only got one thing left. And he's got jeans and underwear.

I choose the hard route and take my chances. If I were soberer, I'd probably pass, but I can't see what it will hurt at this point. He's already been so sweet tonight. And I know I'm going to start getting some answers, too. We can both play this game to our advantage.

I start with a calm breath and speak slowly to steel my composure. “I'm afraid that I'll lose my independence and I won't be fun, for starters. I'm afraid that everyone will pity me and that I'll pity myself eventually. I'm afraid I won't be able to work. I'm afraid that I'll be lonely. But I already told you a lot of that.”

“Yeah, but saying it helps. The more you say those things out loud, the better you'll feel about them. I promise.” He smiles at me, aware that this is difficult. “What else?”

“I'm afraid I won't remember everything and I'll forg...” I stop mid-sentence at hearing the shakiness in my voice. “It makes me sad. Is that enough for that question? I'll take a googley thing if you want.” I bow my head and try to rein in my emotions.

“You answered it.” I hear his warm words relieve me a little. “I don't want to you be sad. I just want to know how I can help. If I know what the worst parts are for you, baby, I can work on those first.” There is sympathy in his voice, and I know he really wants to make it all better. I just don't know if he can.

The wine catches up to me, and I'm heading into the sleepy phase of my binge. I say through a yawn, “Take your pants off. That question was rough. You owe me.” I attempt at not staring this time around, but he turns completely around.

His back facing me, he asks, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure. Drop 'em. I almost started crying again, Ben. The pants go.”

I hear the telltale sound of a zipper and then I'm gobsmacked.

Ben's not wearing underwear. Ben's naked. Ben only has socks on. Shit. Yes. Shit.

“Uh, where are your underwear?!”

“Where are your underwear?!” he shouts back, holding his hands out like ‘what the fuck?’ So that answers whether or not he could tell that there were no panties beneath my gown.

“I didn't know anyone was coming over! Wait,” I correct. “I didn't know anyone was coming over to play strip twenty-questions without
their
underwear on!”

His muscular shoulders lift in defense of my teasing scold. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I wanted to cheer you up. You were upset. I don't know. I wanted you to talk and I also wanted to see you with the sweater off. I thought it was a good idea.”

This situation is so absurd that I can help but laugh. I'm half drunk, half naked. He's fully sober and totally nude. It is the things that sitcoms are made of.

“So why didn't you wear underwear?”

“I was at the gym down the street. That's why I was close. I forgot a clean pair so I just didn't wear any after I took a shower. I sort of forgot. I didn't know!” He's laughing now too and peeking at me over his left side.

Using his line and tweaking it for good measure, I ask, “Will you turn around for me, Benny.” I am by no means sobered up. Let's be clear. But I'm not yawning anymore.

The muscles in his back are almost are just as lean and defined as his front. And Ben's butt is white like it's never seen the sun in its existence. Two perfectly white cheeks flex as he thinks about his next move. I clearly have the upper hand.

“If I turn around, then we go one more round. That's only fair. You can't quit. Deal?” he wagers.

“Deal.”

He slowly turns around and he has his hands covering himself. Both hands. Inside, my mind is screaming,
Jump this fine motherfucker!
Somehow, even through my tipsy state, I remain cool and calm. It's so funny how, in just a few seconds, if you add a naked man to the equation, this game is fun again.

“Okay. Ask your question,” he says, looking anywhere, but at me. I want to toy with him, but I’m having a hard time thinking about what to do.

“Ben, I'm over here.”

“I know where you are, Tatum. I just can't look at you or this will get a lot more awkward.”

Then it hits me. He's trying not to seem like a major pervert. And for no good reason, too. I would have had sex with him on the floor in the closet. Still, I can't resist messing with him.

“Benny. Look at me,” I say in a softer voice, fully aware of what I'm about to get myself into. Or at least I'm trying like hell to get myself into.

“All right, but you've still got to go one more round. Remember?” His voice gains its weight back, and he's not the only one aware of their arousal.

“I remember.” My brain stalls. There are so many things I want to ask him, but now I can't think of any of them. All I can think about is his hands on my body and touching him.

“What's your question, Tatum?” I can see that his self-control is dangling like a carrot in front of him, and if I push him even the tiniest bit, he'll lose it. That's exactly what I want.

His hands still cradle the only surprise he has left. He's reading my face and knows I'm not going to back down. It's like a sexual Mexican standoff in my bedroom.

I want him. I go for broke.

“Do you want to know what I taste like?”

He swallows and his jaw flexes before he says, “Yes.” Determination flares in his eyes and his body tenses.

His hands drop.

My eyes follow.

“Are you sure you're ready for this? When I come over there, no more shutting me out. No more hiding from me. We're in this together,” he states, offering me one last chance to back down.

I thought we were just going to have sex. He's hard as a rock and dead serious. I've never met a man who wanted some form, even the smallest, of commitment before getting it on.

Still, I can't deny that it's what I want too. I nod my agreement.

Before I can process what I've just gotten myself into, he's here. Standing directly in front of me.

“Are you going to ask me what your show is?” Ben asks me in a breathy voice. He skirts around my neck, never touching me, but I can feel him so close.

“Do you want me to take this off?” I pull away so I can see his face.

“No. I'm going to enjoy taking it of myself.”

He walks me backwards to my dresser that sits against the wall. It hits me on the ass and I stop, unable to go any farther. He dips down low to his knees and moves both hands under the pink gown, bringing it up with him as he slides his hands up my smooth legs.

He looks up at me with hooded eye and smiles. “Sit up there, baby.”

Climbing onto the chest, I sit back just enough so that my feet dangle, not touching the floor. He kisses one leg up to my knee and then the other, taking his time to play fair with them, all the while stroking and caressing my tempered skin, higher and higher

He hasn't even touched my center and I feel like I'm going to detonate the second he does. It's been a while, and it was never like this. I can't think of a time in my life when a lover took this much tender care of me.

I lean back on my hands to steady myself and lay my back against the mirror. Every light kiss Ben places on my body ramps up my excitement. Trying to remain quiet, I press my lips together so that I don't make a fool out of myself. A needy moan still makes it past my throat, but it only encourages him.

“Relaxed up there?”

“Yes.” I open my eyes, not realizing that I closed them, and look down to see something that I hope stays ingrained in my memory for the rest of my life—Ben’s face between my legs, smiling up at me.

He's worked the skirt of my pajamas all the way up to my waist, and it is now wadded up on my lap. Ben stands for only a second and lifts me with one arm, pulling the pink silk out from under my ass. Working both sides, he raises it over my head and throws it across the room. His mouth hits mine, and I finally let out the sounds I've been poorly trying to stifle.

He moves his hands to my breasts and cups them, adding only more urgency to our kiss, and my entire body is on fire. I can feel a pulsing between my legs, and I know it will only abate one way.

He moves his mouth lower and takes a tight nipple inside, lightly playing with it between his teeth. The sensational mix of almost discomfort and pure pleasure has my fingernails raking the dresser's wood top.

Letting my breast fall away from his hot mouth, he whispers, “You like that, don't you?”

I hum compliance.

I'm torn between watching this man's head as he kisses and worships my body all the way down and just laying my head back and dedicating this moment to only the feeling. I steal a glance down and he's looking me over like a map. He stretches my legs wider and opens drawers on either side, placing a foot up high in each one. With me spread like this before him, I feel so at peace knowing that he'll take care of everything.

“Baby, you're so wet. I haven't even touched you.” He runs his thumb up the crease of me before he sticks it in his mouth for his taste. He doesn't say anything. Moving towards me, he runs his tongue the same route as his thumb did only seconds before.

I can feel my thighs beginning to shake from having my feet held steady in their places. Leaning back so that I don't need my arms for support, I move my hands to his head.

“Tell me what you like, Tatum,” he says between long laps at my sex. “I want to know your secrets, baby. Tell me.”

“Lick my...” And he's already there, making the most heavenly circles on my clit with his firm tongue. “Yeah,” I breathe.

I run my fingers through his hair and encouraging the pressure that I crave. My legs finally do twitch, and my stomach is following suit. I'm getting closer when one long finger slides into me.

It doesn't fumble around, looking for the spot. It just gets there. With Ben's mouth working at a master’s pace, his one talented finger becomes two and I come.

“Ben. Ben. Ben.” I chant his name so many times that I sound like a scratched CD. He doesn't stop, only slowing until I catch my breath. My body withers onto the hard walnut furniture I am perched on.

Ben stands, his fingers never completely leaving me, pulling every last ounce from me. He erotically purrs into my ear, “I don't know what’s sweeter, baby. The way you taste or hearing you say name when you come. I've been waiting so long for both. Stand up,” he croons.

I inch myself closer to the edge of the dresser and stretch my toes out to find stable footing. He seizes me to him in a tight hold.

“Turn around.”

I oblige, and between his arms, which are caging me in close to the dresser, I turn to face myself and him in the mirror that hangs on top. I'm flushed and rosy. Ben looks so collected, but I can feel how much he's affected with how close he's standing to me.

“Look at you, Tatum.” I meet his eyes in the reflection before us. “Not at me at you.” His hand turns my chin ever so slightly, and then I'm face to face with a girl who looks like me.

She's familiar.

She looks alive.

Ben crosses his hands across my chest and takes one breast in each hand. He works them in every direction and lifts them a little in his grasp.

“Look at your face. You're cheeks are red. Your lips are swollen.” My head looks away from the mirror and rolls onto his chest. The feeling of his naked body and mine pressed together warms me from the inside out. “I see you in there.” His words break though. He places light kisses on my neck.

“I have a game we can play. It's called We're Both Naked So Let's Be Quiet.” My request is met with happy laugh from behind me. When he smiles, I feel he cheeks move against my hair.

“You're so mouthy.”

“Will you stay?” Behind my smartass comments is always something more. I don’t want him to leave.

“Yeah. I'll stay.”

He fetches my pretty pajamas, and I watch him tend to me in the mirror. He attentively opens the pink fabric so that he can easily slip it over my head in one clean motion.

We lie in my bed together talking for hours. We talk about things and places we want to visit, and I confide in him that I'm afraid I will miss out.

He softly runs a light hand up and down my back. “There's time, baby. We'll make time,” he says as he kisses my neck just before I fall into the most restful sleep wrapped up in a perfect man.