Benson gulps down another beer, and I start noticing that he’s getting drunk when his hands start drifting over my body, touching me a little less safely. His thumb even brushes my breast once.
This isn’t the first time, but it’s the first time I haven’t stopped his hands while laughing it off.
Usually he gets drunk, gets handsy, then he’s mortified the next day. By usually, I mean this has happened a total of five times. It’s why he rarely drinks around me.
Tonight, however, I don’t bat his hands away.
I also know that I should, because we’re both a little tipsy, which is also a first. Usually one stays sober while the other drinks. And by usually, again, like a handful of times.
I’ve been handsy before on Benson, according to Paul, but I don’t remember it, and Aunt Penny never saw it. And Benson said it never happened. So…who knows?
I lean back, sighing as Benson’s lips brush my neck. Something he’d never, ever do sober. Hence the reason I know he’s getting drunker by the beer.
I drink more of mine, and he looks over, gesturing toward Delaney who is ramming her tongue down Paul’s throat. Paul is in heaven, but I think he’s about to have an accident.
According to rumors, it’s been a while for him.
I laugh while standing, noticing Lindy is back at the pool table, no longer watching us.
Thunderous booms rattles the sky, causing the house to quake, and Benson smiles down at me as we both grab a fresh beer from the ice bucket one of the others set up, and head outside to watch the fireworks.
He tugs me to him, resting his chin on top of my head as I lean back against him. The fireworks sprinkle across the sky, beautiful and bright, demanding attention.
I’m barely able to notice the others coming out to join us, everyone gushing over the beautiful display. My uncle drives for miles to get the good stuff for these things. He has three closets packed full of just fireworks.
Just as another set burst into the sky, I hear a dog barking like crazy, and screams erupting.
I run in, grab the binoculars off Benson’s table, and run back out, looking through them.
“What’s going on?” Benson asks.
I realize it’s Cooter, my brothers’ bloodhound that roams around, when he runs in front of a light. But it’s what he’s chasing that has my heart pattering.
“Cooter,” I say on a groan.
There’s a squirrel with a set of firecrackers going off on a long string attached to its tail. Cooter is howling, doing all he can to catch the squirrel and the firecrackers. I can’t see what happens when they aren’t in front of the light.
Then I screech when I hear a loud squeal from across the lake, and suddenly fireworks are shooting this way.
Benson jerks me down to the ground, and the binoculars fall out of my hand as he covers my body with his.
Fireworks boom right above us, debris from the too-close explosives raining down on us and his house. Paul screams and yelps as he falls to the ground and starts scooting his ass across it.
“Ow!” he howls.
Another one almost connects with his back, and Benson presses more of his body on top of me until I’m completely shielded.
“Get down!” Benson shouts to all the idiots who haven’t ducked for cover yet.
Another firework blasts right above us, knocking his rain gutter loose as the blindingly bright, white blast leaves dots on my vision.
I blink rapidly.
My ears ache from all the close contact noise.
It grows deadly silent as quickly as things got out of hand, and I peer around, still seeing a few dots, wondering if it’s safe.
“Are there more?” Benson calls out loudly.
“No! None that are lit!” my uncle calls back. “I’m going to kill those fucking heathens!”
“I’ll help!” Benson yells as he stands and helps drag me to my feet.
Leave it to my brothers to get one night back at my aunt’s and ruin the fireworks.
“What happened to the squirrel?” I call out.
“Cooter got him,” Uncle Bill answers.
I grimace, but silently hope it was one of the squirrel bastards who has been chewing through my wiring in the attic and making my life hell. Benson tugs me to his side.
“Let’s get our drink on, beardless animals!” Paul roars, no longer concerned about his scorched ass as he drags Delaney back into Benson’s house.
Benson sighs as we both trudge back in.
Why oh why did I get rid of the beards?
Chapter 9
Wild Ones Tip #227
Never listen to drunk confessions, or you might become an accomplice after the fact.
LILAH
People are crashing on couches and in the spare rooms—including mine, apparently. I don’t realize this until I push open the door to see Paul and Delaney kissing on the bed I had the other night.
Sighing, I shut the door, and turn around to see a smirking Benson. “You’ll have to double with me tonight. It’s not like it’ll be the first time we’ve slept together.”
His eyes run over my body, and I try to act like I’m as confident as he is. That night is what really changed everything, sent me on this downward spiral into the rabbit hole.
I move toward his room like I’m not internally shaking like crazy.
“Can I borrow a shirt or something?”
He doesn’t respond, but as soon as we walk into his room, he pulls out a drawer and tosses me a shirt. I look around his room, since it’s the only one in the house I’ve never seen before.
It always felt like a personal boundary that I never crossed, even though he’s seen my room plenty of times.
I happily accept the shirt, and duck into his bathroom—which is not the same bathroom he went into back when I followed him—and gasp.
Because it’s massive.
There’s a huge walk-in, tiled shower with two showerheads on each side, and one massive rainfall showerhead right in the middle. The glass doors are pristine, as though he always cleans them.
The floors are…holy shit! The floors are heated!
Towels are neatly rolled inside bamboo shelves off to the side, and then there’s a towel warmer built into the wall, glass casing surrounding it.
It’s a bathroom wet dream.
“You okay in there?” he calls out.
“No. I’m moving into your bathroom. You’ll never get rid of me.”
His laughter is soft, because he thinks I’m kidding. I’m already doing the math on how big my bed can be.
I almost sing Hallelujah when I see the large, granite countertops with so much space you’d never have to worry about things toppling into the wet sink when you’re trying to use them. Plenty of drawers for storage too.
It’s…perfect.
“Are you still looking at everything?”
“Never coming out,” I tell him as I tug my shirt off and replace it with his, then pull my shorts off.
I fold my clothes neatly and take them back out, and he flashes a grin at me as he looks up from his phone. He’s sitting on the bed, looking every bit as tempting as he possibly can, as I place my clothes on his dresser.
“Why don’t you have a phone?” he asks me randomly. Three years we’ve been friends, and he asks this question now of all times?
I shrug. “Why would I have one?”
“Well, for business for one.”