Sin's Haven (7 page)

Some people just
didn’t belong in those circles. Hazel closed her eyes and tried not to see
Jay’s lifeless body. The marks on his neck haunted her but the way his face had
permanently set like he’d been concentrating, completely aware of what he was
doing…
 
She opened her eyes to escape
that nightmare.

She’d loved Jay
with her entire being, was sure they’d been soul mates. Yet it hadn’t been
enough to keep him from taking his life. Her love hadn’t been enough.

Hazel took a
seat at the foot of the small futon. She’d seen a familiar look on Ben’s face
tonight. When a man withdrew inside himself, it was unmistakable.
Especially since she’d seen a brighter side of him, almost
childlike with interest at the window earlier that day.

Couldn’t Ben
move or twitch to let her know he was okay?

She poked him
gently on the arm to see if he’d stir. He did. Thank the heavens. The
peculiarity of his clothes made her smile. God, she’d been a part of hurting
him and she’d stake her last breath on his inability to hurt a fly.

“What are you
thinking?” she asked the ceiling of the office, then let her face fall heavily
into her hands. “I’m not ready for this. What am I doing?” she then asked
herself quietly, because flirting was one thing, and it helped her get through
her lonely days. But feeling this connected to someone after only a few short
hours was something else entirely.

Ben’s chest
slowly rose, giving sporadic life to his leopard print shirt. He’d rolled the
sleeves up high enough that she could now see finely haired forearms peeking
out between the material and his rubber bracelets. All these tiny glimpses she
was getting kept sending her to the edge of attraction and curiosity but also
worry for his emotional state.

What was she
going to do with him? Do for him?

Now her chest
heaved as she considered her options.
Asleep,
or wasted
anyways, his cheekbones looked more pronounced, which gave a sunken look to his
closed eyes. But he was young, younger than her.

What was it with
her fingers and their mind to keep reaching out to him? His clean shaven face fooled
her when she let a fingertip fall to his jaw and found a prick of whiskers,
much lighter than his caramel brown hair. The roughness of the short hairs
tempted her. What would it feel like to have him rake his jaw against the
neglected skin of her breasts? What if he went lower, softly scraping her tummy
along the way and ended up cradled between her thighs? She shivered, unsure why
she felt so comfortable picturing this stranger in her most private places. Her
eyes trailed over his squared chin and she imagined it resting between her
breasts as he looked up at her in the sexy but safe place. To be able to
provide that comfort for someone again. Then there was his rather perfectly
straight and model-like nose. Even the man’s nose was a turn on. She’d dab some
of her jasmine perfume behind her ear just to feel him nuzzle her there.

Just like Jay
had done.

She couldn’t
help but think of Jay because Jay had been her life and the last man she’d been
this intimate with. And her Jay, every part of his body had been strong and
thick. It scared her to no end that a person so physically powerful could turn
out to be the most vulnerable. Would Ben be okay?
Maybe after
a day or two had passed and if he stayed away from Tennessee whiskey.
She
probably shouldn’t worry and she definitely should stop fantasizing. Surely
he’d be fine when he woke up and went on about his life.

How many people
had thought Jay was living the dream life?

The smell of the
ocean breeze air freshener she’d stuck to one of Mark’s shelves had just enough
scent left to mix with Ben’s whiskey and peanuts breath. Coming off most
people, she’d have pinched her nose closed and winced but there was something
keeping her from doing that. Maybe it was her guilt. There was just no way
she could
do anything against this guy, not even turn her
face at his less than stellar breath. She’d played a part in this, even if she
hadn’t meant to.

Hazel considered
calling a cab to come haul him off and let the grown man lying before her
figure out where he should be and how to move on. Instead, she scooted on her
knees closer to the futon frame and leaned down. She watched his mouth, taking
it more seriously now that he wasn’t drunkenly and mistakenly fumbling around
with bad balance and a kiss. His lips let in and pushed out short gusts of air.
Fixated on how his bottom lip was fuller than the top, tempted, she leaned into
him and after holding back and giving it a second thought, gently gave him a
kiss. “I’m sorry for you, Ben. Happy birthday,” she said quietly.

Ben rolled
toward her, causing his shirt to hike up on the end and expose his stomach. A
sexy, fine trail of dark hair reminded her he was a living, breathing man, not
just fantasy, but he stayed curled up on his side. He looked so vulnerable this
way. Seeing him like that gave her an idea of how she could right the wrong
that had been done to him tonight.

She quietly got
up and went to Mark’s desk and pulled out some paper and pen, thinking about
her fantasies for inspiration.

Ben-

Thanks
for such a wonderful night. It was amazing. You were amazing.

Take
care,

H

Wondering what a
night like that might have actually been like with him, she felt her fingers
touch her lips, still caught up in how nice and soft his had felt. Her body
began to respond and she’d have liked to give in to it.
The
tender throbbing coming from between her legs, the swelling of those lips as
she pictured his long fingers touching her.
Would her wetness be
pleasing and help him delve deeper inside, exploring what she wanted so badly
to give to another? Would a man like Ben enjoy her taste? She forced herself to
stop again and squeezed her thighs together until some of the ache went away.
The truth was, she’d never know.

And then she
made her way to the door, hovering there and vowing never to get herself in
another situation like this again.

The unexpected
and strong connection scared the hell out of her.

He’d be fine.

She’d done what
she could to boost his ego back up. She prayed the note would be enough. That
he’d go back to his crowd, feeling good about the mind-blowing night he’d spent
with her, or so he would think, and find someone kinder than
Erby
Wells the next time.

From the
doorway, she looked at the clock on the wall. It was closing in on one in the
morning. Mark would be back to open things up for the coffee crowd by six. She
should stick it out in Mark’s desk chair for a few more
hours,
just to be sure nothing bad happened to Ben. Quietly, she tiptoed back to the
desk. Her next note was to Mark, explaining that she was taking him up on his
offer for one of those days off. She just couldn’t be here when Ben woke up.

Moving as
carefully as she could, she got up and tucked Ben’s note into his front shirt
pocket before returning to the chair. That space between his chest and knees
and the back of the futon carved out so perfectly for the shape of a woman nearly
shattered her resolve.

Life was on to
her, knowing the truth when she couldn’t admit it.

She needed
someone.

Was that why
their paths had crossed?

A rumble of cold
sweat broke through her pores and sickened her stomach. Life had sent her Jay.
Their paths had crossed, too. Their love had been beautiful. Until it hadn’t
been enough and she just couldn’t go through that again.

Chapter
Five

Ben woke up
wishing he’d drunk a half dozen less Jack and Cokes last night. His tummy
rumbled, reminding him it was empty and he was ready to eat since at some point
during the night, he’d thrown up his dinner nachos.

The evidence was
all over the floor.

Crap, the guys
would have a field day with this if they ever found out. Good thing he was
alone.

Sliding his
tongue up and over his teeth and gums, he had the immediate need for water. “Dude,
when did I kiss her? Please let it have been before all this.” His stiff bones
refused to cooperate, making him take more time getting up off the small futon.

He had no idea
what time it was now but there was no time to waste with that awful smell
lurking nearby. He rubbed his eyes and located the trail of disgustingness just
to the side of a small trashcan near a desk tacked with club and café posters. At
least he knew where he was, even if how he’d gotten here wasn’t all that clear.

There weren’t
any towels lying around so he knew this meant opening the door and taking the
walk of shame to the bathroom. Hopefully he didn’t startle anyone who might be
in the club. He vaguely remembered some of the staff from last night. One in
particular ... with cinnamon colored hair. The one he feared he’d kissed.

Finally, after
finding out he seemed to be the only person there, he tossed the last paper
towel he’d used to clean up his mess and plopped down on the toilet seat where
he sat now. What he wasn’t prepared for was the note he found tucked into his
shirt pocket. He patted it and pulled it out carefully.

“Holy
crap.
No way.”

He read it
again.

Apparently he’d
had relations with her, pretty good ones at that, but had no recollection of
it. What was her name? He couldn’t remember but it started with an H according
to the note. Crap. He’d had hot, amazing sex last night with her?
With Haven?

He closed his
eyes, and tried to remember more, considering dropping his pants and inspecting
his stuff. He didn’t go that far but adjusted himself in his briefs, now
conscious that he’d been inside a beautiful woman who he’d somehow brought some
pretty decent pleasure to. More amazing than that, she hadn’t been turned off
when she’d seen him. God, this was the weirdest feeling in the world.

But straining to
remember more was no use. It only gave him a worse headache, not a name of the
woman he’d slept with so carelessly.
Or any remembrance of
touching her.
No way would he have not touched her. Ah, he did remember
feeling something. He was an idiot. She’d sung him happy birthday, which would
have been cool if he hadn’t just been crowned king of the losers by
Erby
. Wait, before that. The chorus of his favorite song as
he’d sat there in silent chaos had touched him, even if he hadn’t let it show.

Somehow, after
all that, he’d gotten close enough to kiss this other woman.
Back
on that well-meant futon.
But how in the world did a guy like him end up
hooking up with a woman like Haven?

She probably
felt bad for him.

Story of my
life, he thought.

Where was she
now? Was she okay? They’d been in the office together.
Which
meant she could have seen him tossing his nachos.
Surely she’d written
the note and left in time to spare them both that lovely experience. And apparently,
she was well. Better than well.

He shook his
head, trying to understand last night. The problem was, his pride might be
swelling on one hand but on the other, he felt like a huge ass wipe. He’d slept
with a woman whose name he couldn’t remember and oh yeah, he didn’t do that
kind of thing. It wasn’t anywhere in his nature. Jaxon and Stefan made women
melt at the mere thought of the things those guys could do to them. Unless a
chick was super into a personalized website or slick Facebook banner, Ben
didn’t have much woo factor to offer. And a one-night-stand-to-blow-your-mind
was definitely not on his menu. He wouldn’t have slept with
Erby
on their first date and he’d known her for six years! Okay, maybe he would have
last night...

“I suck and
ow
,” he said, holding his head in one hand while his elbow
dug into his knee. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember Haven’s hands on his
legs, maybe playing with his knees. It was a hot fantasy, but he got nothing.
“Great, just great,” he muttered and then stood up and flushed, even though he
hadn’t even dropped his trousers.

It was time to
make his way out.

But what if she
was out there, waiting?

An apology.
That’s what he owed her. A big ole I’m sorry. This woman might have been
pleased with her experience but she should know he wasn’t that kind of guy.

As he dragged
his reluctant feet from the stall, her kiss popped onto his lips. He
remembered. She’d tasted like sweet cherries. He was so screwed. He knew he’d
messed up and had no idea how to deal with this which meant avoidance until he
figured it out. What would Jaxon do?

“You’re not
Jaxon, dip wad. You’re Saint Benjamin,” he told himself as he swallowed, and
followed the narrow hallway from the back office up to the café.

Coffee.

He needed some
and if she was up there, he could invite her to have a cup with him. And maybe
talk. Nerves brewed heavy in his stomach as he pushed open the curtains that
divided the club from the café. Why in the world he chose that very moment to
start worrying about condoms was beyond him. But he fumbled for his wallet and
found the one he kept still tucked into his bill fold.