With lightning-fast reflexes—Kacey used to spend hours at the gym kickboxing—she reaches up and pinches my nipple through my shirt before stalking away, that evil cackle of hers filling the air.
“I swear, between the two of you, I’m going to be in the hospital soon,” I mutter, rubbing my chest.
From somewhere behind us, the violinist begins playing music, signaling the need to sit. Nate leans in, out of Reese’s earshot, and murmurs, “Sounds like Mercy was really looking forward to seeing you today.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, shaking my head and then heaving a sigh. “She knows me better than to expect something.”
Nate’s severe glare—the whites of his big eyes a stark contrast to his ebony skin—lets me know that excuse isn’t going to fly. “Well, it’s looking like she doesn’t, so you better straighten that shit out. Just because you’re not working for Cain anymore doesn’t mean I won’t beat your ass.”
He’s not kidding, either. Both Nate and Cain take a special interest in making sure people don’t take advantage of the dancers at Penny’s. Best friend or not, good intentions or not, I’m going to end up with two black eyes over this, even if I wasn’t the one showing up in anyone’s bedroom.
“Got it, man. Trust me, that’s over.”
I hear a “dumbass” slip out as Nate walks away, followed by that low chuckle of his.
“Your friend looks like he wants to kill you,” Reese, ever observant, says as we make our way to find a seat. I’m catching a lot of nods and smiles thrown my way from familiar faces. Pretty much the entire staff of Penny’s—anyone who knows Storm, anyway—is here.
“That’s why you’re here. To make sure he doesn’t.” She lets me entwine my fingers through her hand as I lead her toward the back right corner and into two available seats, as far away from Mercy as possible. “Remember that girl who came by my office?”
“The Twinkie?”
“Mercy, yeah. I need to keep things platonic between us and you are going to help me do that. But you can’t be mean to her, okay?”
“Moi?” Reese says with mock innocence, her free hand clutching her chest as she scans the crowd, quickly settling on the back of Mercy’s head.
“I’m serious, Reese. She’s a friend, but I think she may have gotten the wrong idea.”
Reese’s glare is full of suspicion as she asks dryly, “And why would she get the wrong idea, Ben?”
I give her a knowing look. “Kind of hard to say no to her when she’s throwing herself at me.”
Shaking her head, she mutters, “You don’t even try to hide what you are, do you?”
All I’ve got to answer that with is a shrug.
“I guess you did kind of save the day for me with my ex last week,” she says with a sigh, though clearly unimpressed.
“And you didn’t exactly hate it, did you,” I remind her with a smile. And she didn’t hate the afternoon at my mama’s, either.
“God, you are so damn cocky.” The tiniest smile softens her tone. With a heavy sigh, she reaches up to lay a hand on my cheek. She pulls my face closer, until I feel her hot breath against my ear. Her lip grazes my lobe as she asks in a low voice, “Is this amorous enough?”
“Uh . . .” I clear my throat as shivers run down my back. “Yeah, that’ll work.” To give me a raging hard-on before the bride even walks down the aisle. If the incident with Mrs. Cooke the other day tells me anything, it’s that I’m gonna regret asking Reese to do this by the end of the night. This girl enjoys torturing me.
Reaching up to finger a strand of hair at the nape of my neck, her mouth still against my ear, she laughs softly. “What would your mama say about all this?”
I curl my arm around her shoulder as Dan and Trent take their spots under the arch in tuxes. “She taught me to be nice to girls. She didn’t specify exactly how.” I think my mama has a pretty good idea how I do that.
Pulling away, Reese regards me with an unreadable expression.
I shrug. “What?”
“You’re a special breed, Benjamin Morris,” she finally answers, though that tells me nothing about what she’s really thinking.
But when I take a gamble and draw her close to lay a quick kiss on her lips, she doesn’t pull away. Or punch my junk. “The Twinkie’s not watching,” she confirms wryly, without even glancing to check.
“Really? How about now?” I don’t wait before I steal another kiss. Another one she doesn’t refuse.
Her eyes do narrow slightly, though, as I pull away.
She’s definitely gonna make me pay for this by the end of tonight.
Chapter 19
REESE
“I like your friends!” I holler, my shoes dangling from my fingertips as my naked toes relish the cool, wet sand along the beach.
“More than you like me?”
“Yeah, but that’s not hard.” I turn and begin walking backwards as I absorb Ben’s responding grin, perfectly visible in the light of the full moon. Maybe it’s the Jim Beam, but I’m finding it even more charming than usual tonight. In fact, the entire package—whore and all—has had me checking my hair in the mirror and sending little shocks of electricity through me the entire evening. Even with his shirt hanging out of his pants and his tie long since removed, the big jock looks sharp in a suit. I’m kind of glad he doesn’t wear one around the office all the time. It would be distracting.
“Is that so? Is that why you’ve been all over me tonight?” he asks, his brow raised as if he knows some little secret.
I can’t contain the bark of laughter. “What? You gave me a task and I like to overachieve.” It’s funny, when we first stepped around the corner and into a wedding scene, the only thing that stopped me from wrapping my hands around his neck and choking him was knowing my hands wouldn’t cover even half the span needed to succeed. But I quickly adapted to the situation and met a few of his friends—who I can tell I’d actually like.
Especially that redhead, Kacey, the maid of honor. She’s got a wicked sense of humor. She kept her promise, spending a good fifteen minutes scrolling through her phone to show me “the best of the best” from Ben’s farewell party. Which turned out to be the “worst of the worst.” There were a few she wouldn’t show me, though, and I’m thinking they involved the strippers. I guess she assumes that, as Ben’s date, seeing pictures of Ben getting molested by other women would bother me. When I accidently caught the one of the Twinkie straddling his lap and my stomach twisted uncomfortably, I thought I might agree with her.
When Ben leaned down and laid that first kiss on me right before the ceremony, I could have refused. I could have pushed him back and said no. But I didn’t. I went along. It was an unpredictably easy decision to make, especially after catching Mercy’s furtive and frequent glances over at him. I knew that if I strayed more than a foot away, I’d turn around to find her hanging off of him, trying to entice him with her bedazzled vagina or whatever it is the stripper has that lures in a guy like Ben.
So I hung off him instead.
And let him steal kisses.
They felt more like borderline inappropriate tests than anything, partly because he knew he could get under my skin with them but also because he knows that, though I’ll never admit it, I’m secretly enjoying them as much as he is.
“Do you think it worked?”
“My pants are still on, so hell yeah. Saves me from an awkward situation for tonight.”
“Just for tonight?” I sigh with exasperation.
Taking five quick steps forward, he’s suddenly scooping me into his arms. I cringe at the squeal that escapes me as I find myself whirling through the air as if I weigh nothing. The shock only continues as Ben sets a perfectly timed kiss on my mouth as my toes touch the sand.
I manage to break away from his lips, but not his arms. “You know she doesn’t have bionic vision, right?”
“No, that’s not one of her talents,” he agrees.
“Jackass,” escapes before I can stop myself.
He offers me only a crooked smile. “What? I can’t help it. This is fun. You’re having fun, right?”
“Yes,” I admit reluctantly, gazing up at the lines of his square jaw as my hands settle on his biceps. I really wish he weren’t so attractive. But then I wouldn’t have agreed to this, so . . .
“Still friends?”
“I suppose.”
“And you’re not going to try to marry me because I kissed you a few times, are you?”
“A few times?” I know my eyebrows are crawling halfway up my forehead. “You’re like a dirty little neighborhood boy who runs around, kissing the girls and making them cry.”
“Only one girl today,” he corrects me as he leans in and steals yet another kiss—at least the twentieth tonight. “And I don’t see you crying.”
I don’t know what it is about Ben. He’s as obnoxious as they come, but a small part of me, as idiotic as it is, is flattered that he finds me attractive, especially given that he could be with a stripper right now who I have to admit is drop-dead beautiful, silicone and all. One of those girls who makes you wonder if you should switch teams for a night to see what all the fuss is about.
Then again, it doesn’t sound like there’s much of a pursuit there. That could be the problem.
“Well, seeing as I’m seeking revenge on my ex-husband, I don’t think I have time in my schedule for a second unhealthy relationship. But thank you for being concerned.”
His loud laughter carries over the empty beach. “Good. I don’t need any more women obsessing over me.”
That earns a snort from me but his words provoke a new thought. “So when did you sample the Twinkie last?”
Furrowing his brow as if in deep though, he offers, “What was it: Monday? Or Tuesday? I don’t know. All these days are starting to blend together.”
“While the love of your life was on her deathbed fighting the flesh-eating disease and certain death?” I exclaim dramatically. I’m actually shocked he answered that so openly. That’s something a normal guy would outright lie about. I’m even more shocked that he slept with her only days ago, just after fooling around with me at his mother’s. I mean, I knew he had slept with her because, let’s face it, it’s Ben. But I was thinking this was something from the past. “You know you’re a dick, right?” I say as an unanticipated sourness stirs in my stomach.
He shrugs. “It wasn’t my fault.”
I almost stumble over my feet. “Did you actually just say that to me?”
“What?” Serious blue eyes stare back at me. “I was half asleep in my room and she just showed up and took her clothes off. Then she climbed on me and gave me a blow—”
“All right!” I cut him off, smacking his chest, my irritation spiking.
“Hey, you asked and I’m big on the truth, so . . .”
“Good, I’m glad you’ve retained at least one of your Boy Scout values. But we really need to work on filtering the unnecessary details.”
He scratches the back of his head, a sheepish smile on his lips. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Well, obviously you were supposed to sleep with her,” I agree with mock seriousness, breaking free of his grasp to reach down and grab the bottle of Jim Beam that he snagged from the bar earlier and dropped in the sand before scooping me up. Given I’m a last-minute guest at a pregnant girl’s wedding—and I showed up in a white dress—I’ve been good tonight, welcoming a nice, light buzz and nothing more. But now, taking a long swig, I accept that this enlightening little “romantic” walk with my slutty fake date will probably change that.
“Why are you turning all moody?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Because I look like the moron who’s all kissy-face with her date, oblivious that he’s a whore and has probably slept with every woman here? Because being the blind wife who’s oblivious to her husband cheating on her for three months wasn’t enough for me?” I bite my tongue before any more deep inner thoughts tumble out of my mouth unbidden, but it’s too late. The damage is already done.
I can tell by the sad puppy-dog eyes Ben’s settling on me.
“Let’s go back to the reception,” I grumble, stepping around him. He’s having none of that, though. Roping his arms around my waist, he drops down to press his forehead against mine in a very friendly yet intimate way. In a way I didn’t think Ben capable of acting. The proximity to him is both comforting and heady.
“She’s the only one here that I’ve been with. Well,” he cringes slightly, “Hannah, too, but just the one night and for like a minute. She was more into Mercy that night.” Oh my God! “And I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that when I asked you to do this.”
Digesting that rather graphic detail that I didn’t need for a long moment, I finally heave a sigh. “I guess my pride is just having a hard time getting over that mess.”
With a devilish gleam in Ben’s eyes, he dives down—yet again—for another kiss. Only this time he doesn’t pull away quickly, instead coaxing my mouth open. In no time, my head is cradled in his hand, his tongue is tangled with mine, and I’m not refusing him. He really is good at this.
And this is so easy. And straightforward and painless, because we both know it’s completely physical and neither of us is looking for more. And, oddly enough, I feel like we’re friends. Ben’s kind of like a kid I used to play in the sandbox with who’s seen me through my embarrassing gangly years and makes me laugh.
Who is now making his intentions known by pressing them up against my thigh.
He suddenly pulls away. “Are you actually jealous of Mercy?” There’s a pause, and then his eyes are twinkling as he lets go of me and starts unfastening his shirt buttons, the beginning of that solid upper body revealing itself. I’m not quite sure what he’s doing until the shirt hangs open and his hands reach for his belt, the dimples on his cheeks set deeply. “Because there’s no need. I’m more than willing to—”
“No!”
His hands pause, a knowing smirk stretching his lips. “You sure?”
“No?”
Ben’s head cocks to the side in surprise that matches mine. We’re left standing there, staring at each other as the water laps up on the shore, me wondering what that hesitation was. I’m sure he is too. Then I see his eyes start taking on that heated look, like he just realized that he’s about to get laid.
So I turn and bolt.
“Where are you going?” he hollers.
The lights from his friends’ wedding shine bright up ahead. With a glance over my shoulder, I see him jogging toward me, seemingly unperturbed. He’s definitely not trying too hard. I’m not that fast a runner, though, so he’ll probably catch me before I reach the house.
Fuck. And then what?
Vagina exorcism attempt number two, right here? Contrary to what people say, rolling around naked in gritty sand is neither romantic nor comfortable.
Houses line my left—all expansive buildings with big, beautiful windows and landscaped backyards lit up. All except the one . . . two . . . I visually count . . . the fifth one down from Storm and Dan’s. A few property lights on the side and front of this house are on, but the back lights are off and inside, it’s completely dark.
And it hits me. An idea out of nowhere, of the mischievous variety that I seem to find impossible to ignore. Especially when I’ve been drinking.
Running up to the property line, I hop over the low hedge, my bare feet silent against the soft grass beneath.
“Reese?” Ben’s sharp whisper cuts through the quiet night.
“Yeah?”