A Mess of a Man (Cruel & Beautiful #2)

Mark’s face pinches. “No.” He waves me off. “She wasn’t even in high school when I was. But I heard things when I came home from college and they were all good. She’s the kind of girl you marry, not bang. So if you’re not in for the long haul, Ben, leave her alone.”


After they leave, I pick up my phone several times only to put it down. Mark’s words haunt me like Drew’s ghost would have if he could. I’ve already fucked up and let my dick rule my actions. I can’t play fuck buddy games with someone like her. She’ll only get hurt in the end. Somehow, I need to let her go before things go too far.

My decision made, I stay away from Sam for the rest of the week. Good girls aren’t in the cards for me. I have nothing to offer them. Even though she says she wants to play fuck buddies, I know how that usually ends up. Karen is the prime example of that.

When Sam calls me from outside my office on a rainy Friday night after hours, I’m ready to say the things that need to be said.





This is probably the ballsiest move I’ve ever made, but I have to do something. He hasn’t called all week, and I don’t know why. After the night we spent and the fireworks display that erupted over his bed, I can’t stop thinking about him. And I know he felt it, too. I want some more of Ben Rhoades and I’m willing to take this chance.

My heart is pumping blood through my veins at light speed. I wish I had cruise control for my blood pressure because I totally need it right now.

“Rhoades.” His voice is curt when he answers. Does that mean he doesn’t want to hear from me?

“Ben, it’s Sam.”

“Sam,” There’s a pause. “Hi. I was busy grabbing some contracts out of the printer and had my hands full so I couldn’t see the caller ID. How are you?”

Thank God for that. I’m not sure what to make of him yet, but it sounds like at least he’s not put off by me. “I’m fine. How’s your week so far?”

“From hell or worse.” He explains something about a hedge fund, which is purely Greek to me and I tell him.

“All you need to know is that a lot of our clients had to be stroked, petted, and reassured all week that their money is safe and I lost a huge deal because of it.”

“Aww, I’m terribly sorry. That sucks because it’s not like it was your fault.”

“Thanks, but when it comes to money, people don’t care. They only want theirs protected. So what’s up?”

“I was on my way home and I noticed your car in the parking lot on this yucky rainy Friday night, so I decided to stop and call.”

“Wait. You’re downstairs?”

I can almost feel his surprise leaping through the phone.

“I’m in my car, but yeah.”

There’s a long beat and I can imagine him running a hand through his gorgeous hair.

“Come on up … that is if you want.”

“On the way,” I say, not able to keep the grin off my face.

He meets me at the entrance and stares at me for a long moment before he reaches for my hand. Contact. I feel like I can’t breathe when he guides me to his office. “This place is like a tomb,” I say.

“Yeah, I’m the only one left. It’s been such an awful week, everyone took off earlier than usual, but I had some things I needed to finish up, so I’m the last one here.

“Nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yes, Ben, nice,” and I wiggle my brows so he catches on.

“Oh.” His lips round perfectly when he says the word. “I see, Ms. Calhoun. It appears you may have an ulterior motive here.”

“That I do, but I have to say I’m a little confused.”

“Confused?” he repeats.

“You don’t call, you don’t write.” I say it in jest, though he knows I want an answer.

His face hardens and I immediately realize I’ve said the wrong thing.

“Yeah, about that. I think …”

“And that’s your problem. You’re thinking too much.” I don’t want him to go into some fuck buddy explanation because I have a sinking feeling that’s what he was going to. So I walk into his personal space and lean into him to run my tongue over the seam of his pinched lips. This is so not my style, but I’m willing to give it a shot. I pray he doesn’t push me away.

“Sam.” He stops me and I would have felt rejected if not for the glazed eye look he’s giving me. “I’m pretty busy here if I expect to see my bed at all tonight. What did you have in mind?”

“Do you really have to ask?” He smells so perfect that I shove my face into the crook of his neck to taste and inhale him into my every pore.

“Fuck,” he mutters. When his arms circle my waist and his hands grip the cheeks of my ass, I know I’ve hit gold. “You really want to do this here, now?”

“Uh huh.”

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