Straddling the Line

Eight

Ben pulled an extra set of towels out of the cabinet and sat them out the counter. Women liked fresh towels, he’d learned. And…yes, a forgotten robe hung on the back of the door. He used it only in the winter, when the drafts created an indoor wind chill. He didn’t want her to put her clothes back on, because that meant she’d want to leave, and he wasn’t ready to let her go yet. That alone was weird. He hadn’t brought a woman back here in a while, and it had been even longer since he’d been with one who looked half as good after as she did before.

The way her body had taken him in was something, but it had taken every bit of his willpower to go slow enough. One thing was clear—she really didn’t screw guys she didn’t know.

He made sure the toilet was flushed and no huge globs of toothpaste disgraced the sink before he headed out. Josey was wrapped in the sheet, the perfect combination of sensual and innocent. Her cheeks reddened as her gaze surveyed his territory again. Perfect, he thought. No way was he taking her home tonight. He had to know what she looked like when she woke up in the morning.

“Can I get you anything?” She sat up a little straighter in the bed, taking the sheet with her. “There’s towels and a robe in the bathroom,” he added, hoping that made it clear that she wasn’t going anywhere else tonight.

“Water?” Her voice was a little scratchy, but that didn’t stop her eyes from taking a few more laps around his body.

Ben fought the urge to flex, just to see what she’d do.

“One water, coming right up.” He turned to head to the kitchen. Behind him, he heard the rustle of sheets. Modesty—in small doses—was attractive in a woman. Did she really want the water, or was she just creating some cover?

Didn’t matter, he thought as he opened the bottle of San Pellegrino and poured it into two glasses. He headed back to the bedroom, where he remade the bed while he waited. Minutes passed. What was she doing in there? He glanced back down the aisle—all her clothes were still there. Okay. At least she wasn’t intent on bailing.

“Ben? Do you have a comb?”

Ben couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Who brushed their hair before they went to bed? Women, that’s who. “Top drawer, left side.”

“Thanks.”

She had a lot of hair—this was probably going to take a while. Ben climbed into bed to wait. Man, he was exhausted. The clock said 11:56 p.m.—just about his regular bedtime, but he usually laid awake in bed for a while until his brain managed to shut the hell up. Right now, he couldn’t even keep his eyes open. Unusually energetic sex could do that to a man.

On the other side of his eyelids, the lights went out. He managed to look up to see Josey—in his robe—taking a long drink from her glass. “This is water?”

“San Pellegrino. The stuff that comes out of the tap here tastes like lead.” He yawned and patted the bed beside him. If he hadn’t been so freaking tired, he’d be happy she was going to stay. He’d be happier if she took off that robe.

The robe slid off her shoulders. He could see the curve of her arms and waist against the light coming in through the windows—sexy as hell, without giving everything away. “Josey,” he said before he knew he was talking. Being as he had no idea what was coming out next, he shut his mouth.

She slipped in beside him, her body curling around his without hesitation. The warm weight of her breasts pressed against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her even closer, until he could feel her heartbeat.

“Josey,” he said again as he kissed the top of her head.

A few moments passed, and he started to drift. So when she said, “Ben,” it jolted him back awake.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you buy all those things for the school?”

The way she said it—quiet, serious and not sleepy—forced his brain to click back on. He got the feeling that, if he wasn’t careful, he’d walk right into a trap.

He must have taken too long, because she went on, “Was it just to impress me…”

Hell, yeah, he’d wanted to impress her. He wanted to turn her on, sweep her off her feet and make her think he was the best she’d ever had. Any man who didn’t put that sort of effort into impressing her wasn’t worth a damn in his book.

Her heartbeat had picked up a little speed as her fingers clutched at his chest. “You didn’t have to spend all that money just to get to tonight. I would have…anyway. I wanted to.”

If he lived to be a hundred and forty, he would never figure out women, because she was making it sound like he’d bought her.

“That’s not why.”

His words came out a little more pissed than he intended, and she shrank away from him.

Aw, screw it.

He lifted her off the bed. She didn’t weigh very much—it was easy to set her on his chest, belly-to-belly, full-body contact. “You want to know why I told you I wouldn’t give you any money and then bought you stuff.”

Maybe he’d scared her too much, because she didn’t answer. She just nodded. At least she didn’t scramble down off him. Despite his exhaustion and confusion, she felt good on top of him.

Why. A damn fine question. When he put it like that—why had he spent so much of his hard-earned money? He could say it was just to impress her—it wouldn’t be a total lie—but it wasn’t the whole truth.

He closed his eyes again, and the sight of Josey’s face when he’d brought all that stuff swam before him. But that wasn’t the only thing there. He saw the way Don Two Eagles’s contempt became begrudging respect, how those kids went from terror to excitement—how they’d all looked at him and seen someone important. Someone who mattered.

“My old man is ashamed of me.” The bitterness of the words cut at his mouth.

“What?” She managed to sound indignant. He took that as a compliment. “You run a company and have a beautiful home and—”

“I’m not the son he’s proud of on a Friday night. I’m a bean-counter brainiac. I’m not anything he wanted me to be.”

In the dark, she rested her chin on his chest and looked at him. “But the band—”

“The only time he ever heard me play was the night Bobby sang lead. He could care less about me because I’m not him like Billy is and I’m not Mom like Bobby is. I can’t be what he thinks I should be.” Lord only knew how much time he’d wasted trying.

“But—”

“Doesn’t matter.” Which was the truth. Here, with her welcoming body covering his, Dad mattered less than he ever had. “And everyone else? They think I’m an arrogant a*shole with a heart of stone who only thinks about the bottom line.”

She made a little noise of disbelief, but those were the unvarnished facts. People always expected him to be someone else—dangerous biker, drummer, creative welder, smooth-talker—but he wasn’t any of those things. He liked the simplicity of numbers. He lived in an old factory with artists who cleaned it for him. He played in a band. He didn’t make promises he didn’t intend to keep, and he always kept the few he did make.

He was holding a beautiful woman. And she was holding him back.

“So why did you get all that stuff?”

She didn’t sound spooked by the question this time, which meant he wasn’t as spooked to answer it.

“I guess I wanted to prove to someone that I wasn’t any of those things. I wanted to prove it to you.”

Funny, that was the truth. He wouldn’t have thought about it like that if she hadn’t pushed him—but wasn’t that one of the things that drew him to her? She expected better of him. And he wanted to be better for her.

“I didn’t come home with an arrogant a*shole.”

His head popped up and he looked at her. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he could make out her eyes. Had he ever heard her cuss before?

She leaned up until their faces were parallel. “I came home with a man who lets artists pay their rent in paintings. A man who bought drums for complete strangers so they wouldn’t have to share just one. A man smart enough to run a company and crazy enough to play in a rock band. A man who makes sure ladies are first. I came home with a true gentleman.”

She kissed him, one of those soft-and-gentle things that should have made him horny but just left him with a strange sort of lightness.

“Good night, Ben,” she murmured as she slid to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“My Josey” was all he got out before he drifted, trying to think of what that strange feeling was.

Happy. That’s what it was. He felt happy.

*

Ben woke up at his normal time, with the light streaming in through the windows. He turned to where Josey was stretched out on her stomach next to him. The sheet was slung low over her hips and most of her hair was off to one side, leaving the smooth expanse of her back uncovered. It had been a long time—way too long—since he’d woken up wanting a woman. He leaned over and brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. He should let her sleep. That would be the gentlemanly thing to do—and she seemed to think he was a gentleman.

But he wasn’t.

He trailed his fingertips up her back, watching as each muscle twitched in involuntary response. When he did it a second time, her eyes fluttered open.

“Hi.” Her voice was soft and breathy as she reached over and touched his cheek.

He went from half-hard to rock-hard in seconds. He should let her wake up a little, he tried to tell himself. He wasn’t some sex-starved teenager who couldn’t control himself.

But something about this woman made him do impulsive, crazy things. He caught hold of her fingers before she could pull them back and kissed her palm. She gasped, her eyes going wide. Then she exhaled, a coy smile on her face.

That was all the invitation he needed. He rolled, pulling her with him until she was right where she’d been last night—on top of him.

She stretched out like a cat after a delicious nap, making the sheet fall away. Yeah, he’d sort of seen those breasts last night, but the difference between light and dark was literally day and night. Her nipples were a deep wine color that almost perfectly matched her lips. This time, he wasn’t stopping at just a taste.

He leaned up enough that he could capture one of those perfect breasts. She ground her hips down on him, enough that he could feel her warmth against his erection. When he fastened onto her, a small groan shuddered out of her.

Logically, he knew he should slow down. He should take his time to savor her, make sure that she was ready for him. But the way she moved on top of him—where were the condoms?

He used the last of his self-control to lift her bottom off him and lunge for the nightstand. He snagged a condom on the second try. Quick enough, he got it rolled on and she settled her weight back on him.

“Go slow,” he pleaded as her wetness sheathed him. “I want to watch you.”

Her eyes drifted shut as she nodded. She had complete control this time, and he was dying to see what she would do with it. She rocked down onto him with great care, making small gasps as she took him in.

The going was slower this time. That was his own greedy fault, but he watched her face for any sign that it wasn’t working. None. Her mouth parted as she panted until she surrounded him completely. Once there, she paused to stretch back, giving him plenty of time to feel her firm breasts, her firm backside.

She’d be the death of him, because he’d die for this kind of pleasure. Something about the way she arched her back, the way her small movements felt huge—the way her tightness felt so damn good around him—was different than anything he’d ever felt before.

“You’re so beautiful.” It was a pitifully inadequate statement of what was blindingly obvious. But it was all his brain could come up with right now.

He forced himself to pay attention when all he wanted to do was let go. She bit that lower lip when something felt extra good. She liked it when he tweaked her nipples with just a little pressure. And when she came? Ah, she shuddered to a stop and then fell forward onto him, her chest heaving. Her body clenched down on his until he had no choice but to give himself up to her.

She fit, like she was made for him.

She leaned back and kissed him as she slid off. “Good morning,” she said with a smile that was a little less sleepy, a little more coy.

“Just good? I’ll try harder next time.”

She grinned at him.

Man, what he wouldn’t give to spend the day lounging around with her, but it was Thursday. He’d already had more fun in half an hour than he normally had for the whole day. “When can I see you again?”

The way her cheeks colored that dusty pink—so freaking beautiful. “I have some meetings today, and tomorrow I have to go out to the rez.”

“What about tomorrow night? I have band practice after work, but nothing after that. You could come over.” Something in her eyes dimmed, and he realized he hadn’t asked the right question. “For dinner,” he added.

“You cook?” She looked amused—and interested.

“I’ll come up with something.” Which sounded better than, “Gina makes most of my food.” Friday was the day Gina and Pat normally came up to clean. An extra-special dinner wouldn’t be too difficult a stretch for the two of them. “We could watch a movie or something.” Or have sex again. Maybe even both.

The coffeepot beeped from the kitchen. Damn. It was already six-forty-five and he hadn’t showered yet. “I have to go to work,” he said with another quick kiss as he got out of bed. “Where do you want me to take you?”

“I don’t think the Dean of the College of Education would appreciate me showing up for our accreditation meeting wearing a motorcycle jacket,” she said with a sparkling grin. “I need to go home.”

“But you’ll come back?”

“Yes,” she said, getting out of bed and taking his sheet with her. “I’d like that.”

*

By the time Ben left her on the curb outside her apartment with a kiss, a promise to see her tomorrow night and a complicated set of instructions on where to park and how to operate the freight elevator, Josey had less than an hour to shower and get to the university.

On her way there, she called her mother to tell her she’d be back out to the school late Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday. “Oh, Ben Bolton might be coming by on Sunday afternoon,” she added as a carefully calculated afterthought.

Mom didn’t say anything for a moment. “Did you have fun?”

Fun made it sound like they’d been playing video games all night instead of having some of the hottest sex she’d ever had the joy of being a part of. “Yeah, Mom. He’s nice.”

Actually, he was incredibly complicated—she still couldn’t get her head around the magnitude of his “place”—but nice would have to do.

She had about a million questions for him—starting with why he lived in the old factory and ending with his family. When he’d dropped her off, he’d hinted about wanting to see her place, but she was too embarrassed by the postage-stamp-sized studio she called home to invite him up for a tour.

And if she was embarrassed by her apartment, how would she handle Ben seeing her mom’s house? He was a man used to the finest things in life—things that Josey did not have.

Doubt began to set in. True, both of their worlds were in South Dakota. That was more than she’d had with Matt. But the similarities ended there. He was so different from her. Sure, he made nice at the school and at the powwow—but how long would that last? How long before he began to look at her like Matt had, not even trying to hide the contempt?

Worse, how long would it be before the tribe stopped being so welcoming? How long before the whispers started, the same ones people still spread about Grandma? How long before the tribe stopped appreciating the gifts, stopped making nice for the sake of politeness and stopped even looking at Ben? How long before he became the invisible, unacknowledged white man?

But this wasn’t about Ben, not really.

Matt had never come to the rez, never met the tribe. Only a few people—Mom, Jenny—had even seen his picture or known how badly he’d broken her heart. Everyone—the whole damned tribe—knew about Ben. How long before she became the traitor to the tribe? Before people like Don Two Eagles forgot about all the work she’d done to get the school going, to take care of her people? How long before she became the invisible, wannabe white woman?

Don’t be ridiculous, she thought. If there was one undeniable fact that she had to remember, it was that the only things Ben and Matt had in common were maleness and whiteness. And yes, people would talk. But their gossip didn’t define her. She knew what she wanted. Rather than get stuck trying to game plan a response to every individual criticism of her life, she needed to focus on the here and now.

Ben was nice. Dinner sounded promising. As much as she already couldn’t wait to see what other bedroom tricks that man had up his sleeve, she wanted to understand him. She hoped he wanted to understand her.

The sex had been memorable. Unforgettable.

But she wanted more.