“I love it,” I admitted.
Our eyes met for a couple seconds. Bennett leaned a hip against the counter, and I imagined what it would feel like to be pinned against that counter by his hips, his body pressed against mine.
“I made chicken fajitas,” I said, clearing my throat. “It’s ready so I’ll get some plates.”
“Thanks for cooking dinner.”
“Sure. It was nice to have an excuse not to work late for once.”
His gaze followed me as I took plates from a cabinet, got out two forks, and went to the fridge for cheese and sour cream. I liked the way it felt to be looked over by him.
“What would you think about coming to my game Friday night?” he asked. “I can get you good seats. Bring a friend if you want. We could hang out after.”
“Um . . . that sounds fun, but what if Liam sees me?”
“Tell him you came to watch him play. His ego’s massive enough to believe it.”
I smiled. “True. Okay, I will.”
He carried the dishes of food over to the table, set them down, and then looked at me like he was about to say something. Instead, he went back to the counter and grabbed the two glasses of water I’d poured.
“What?” I asked. “Were you about to say something?”
His smile was almost shy this time. “Yeah. I was gonna ask if I could touch your tummy again.”
“My tummy?” I said, laughing.
“Sorry.” His cheeks reddened a bit. “When your mom’s a pediatrician, you pick up words like that.”
“Touch away,” I said. And feel free to let those hands roam up or down, too.
“Yeah?” He put the glasses on the table and walked over to me.
He slipped a hand beneath my shirt and onto my belly. The feel of his warm, bare skin on mine had my heart dancing wildly in my chest. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he rubbed my belly gently.
“Can you feel it kicking yet?” he asked softly.
“No. In a few more weeks, I should be able to.”
“Your cheeks are all rosy. You’ve got the glow, Charlotte. You’re beautiful.”
It wasn’t the glow of pregnancy that had me feeling flushed right now, but his touch. And the way he was looking at me like I was the only woman in the world wasn’t hurting either.
“All women are beautiful when they’re pregnant,” I said.
“I guess. Not like you, though.”
My mind was at war. Half of it wanted to grab his shirt and pull him against me for a kiss that would hopefully be the start of a night just like our first one together. But the other half knew he was the last man I should scratch my itch with. We needed to be on good terms for the next eighteen-and-a-half years or so. If we had sex, I’d develop feelings. And those feelings would admittedly be volatile. I knew myself well enough to know I’d miss him, wonder what he was doing on the road, and take out my worries on him when he was home. There was a reason my only relationship in the past six years had been with Riley, who liked a predictable routine of sex on Friday nights, short dinners together a few other nights, and nothing else.
“Guess we should eat while dinner’s hot,” Bennett said, taking his hand out from beneath my shirt.
I almost said, “No.” More like, “NOOOO!!!” actually. I wanted him to keep touching me. There were so many places I craved his hands on me. But I knew he was right.
“Hope you’re hungry,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I made a shitload of food.”
Bennett smiled. “I like how much you sound like your brother. He doesn’t hold back.”
“Yeah, holding back’s not my strong suit,” I admitted.
We sat down across from each other at my small, beat-up oak kitchen table.
“So you guys were raised by a single mom, right?” Bennett asked.
“Yeah.” I passed him the tortilla warmer and he took out a couple. “Our dad left Mom for one of his girlfriends when Liam was six and I was four.”
“Damn. One of his girlfriends?”
“Yep. My mom didn’t think she deserved any better.”
“Are you guys still close to her?”
“Not really. She lives in upstate New York with her third husband. We talk on the phone sometimes, but that’s about it. Liam and I find her high tolerance for bullshit frustrating.”
Bennett finished the bite he was chewing and then pointed at his plate with his fork. “This is really good.”
“Thanks. So who does the cooking at your place, you or Liam?”
“Him. That bastard’s so Type A about the kitchen and dishes that I don’t even touch ’em.”
“Yeah, he did a lot of the cooking and we both did a lot of the cleaning growing up because Mom was working two jobs.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy.” Bennett gave me a serious look. “I’d do anything for him. I’d never deliberately mess with a teammate’s sister, but Liam . . . he’s more like a brother to me. That’s why I deserve the ass-beating I’ll be getting from him.”
“I was the one who messed with you. You didn’t even want to get with me that night.”
Bennett arched his brows and laughed. “Oh, I wanted to. I just wasn’t sure you were in the right state of mind, you know?”