Bennett (On the Line Book 2)

They headed for the door, and I peeked around the corner at them. James had his hand resting on Brian’s ass. They were going to Brian’s to get it on, and I was a little jealous. After yesterday, I doubted Bennett and I would be doing anything but talking tonight.

I settled in on my couch with some peanut M&M’s and Law and Order. I was on my third episode when a knock at my door made me throw off my blanket and rush to the door.

When I opened it, Bennett was standing there in a charcoal suit with a pale blue dress shirt and a red tie loosened at the neck. He raked his gaze down my body and stepped inside.

“Got your message,” he said in a low tone, loosening the tie some more and then pulling it off and tossing it onto my couch. “I couldn’t wait to see you, either.”

I swallowed and latched the dead bolt on the door, nervous anticipation making me warm all over. I could tell from his tone that he wanted more than conversation. I did, too. I wanted it badly.

He took off his suit jacket and laid it over the back of the couch, still eye-fucking me. It was surreal to have this effect on a sexy, muscled athlete while wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

“Are we okay?” I asked in a rush. “I mean, yesterday . . .”

“We’re okay. Come here.”

I approached him, expecting to sink into his big arms and get one of the hugs that whittled away all my stress and uncertainty. Instead, he reached out and ran the backs of his fingers over my cheek and down to my jawline. He grazed his thumb lightly across my lips. The look of intensity in his eyes was making my breath short and shallow.

“Undress for me, Char,” he said in a low tone. “Go slow. Torture me.”

He sat down on the arm of the couch, already wearing an expression that bordered on a smirk. There was no arguing with him right now. This was apparently his way of reminding me that I was not always in control when it came to us.

And damned if I wasn’t already wet from the reminder.

I moved a few feet from the couch and gripped the bottom of my T-shirt, slowly pulling it up past the black satin bra my breasts were spilling out of and then over my head. I felt a pang of self-consciousness over my elastic waistband maternity jeans, but then Bennett put a hand over the bulge in his pants and I flushed with arousal instead of embarrassment.

It was my first time doing anything close to stripping for a man, and I didn’t have a clue what was sexy. I’d have to wing it. I trailed the backs of my fingers over my breasts the way he’d done to my face just a minute ago. Bennett sucked in a breath and gripped the erection pressing against his suit pants.

I slid my thumbs beneath the waistband of my jeans and eased them down past my hips. Bennett’s gaze followed the path of my hands down to my thighs. He stood and offered me a hand so I could step out of the jeans on the floor, then sat back down.

“I’ve been fantasizing about this,” he murmured. “The curvier you get, the hotter it makes me.”

I licked my lips and turned my back to him, reaching to unclasp my bra. When I glanced over my shoulder, Bennett’s lips were slightly parted, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Sliding the straps down my shoulders, I wiggled out of the bra and turned around. Just as Bennett’s eyes locked on to my bare breasts, I tossed my bra at his face. He grabbed it with a low note of laughter.

“You’re in for it now, baby,” he said, stroking his shaft through his pants.

I smiled and wiggled my hips as I slid down the panties that wouldn’t stay over my belly anymore. As soon as I stepped out of them, Bennett stood and came to me.

He put his hands on my hips and turned me around slowly, my back to his chest. Then he raised my arms up until they were beside my head, my fingers brushing against his stubbled jawline.

“Just like that,” he said in my ear. “Leave your arms up.”

He ran the backs of his hands down the sides of my bare body then, the sensation making me moan softly. My eyelids slid closed as his palms made slow, easy circles on my nipples until they were hard and desperate for more.

Then he brushed my hair over one shoulder and lowered his face to the bare one, trailing kisses from my shoulder to my neck. He cupped my breasts and squeezed just enough to make me moan again.

“Oh God, Bennett,” I whispered, letting my head fall back against his shoulder.

His erection rested against the crack of my ass as his hands slowly explored every inch of my skin. The feel of his suit against my naked body was heaven. I pressed my hips back against him, needing more.

I got it when he slipped a finger inside me and groaned his approval. He kissed my neck as he circled his wet finger over my swollen clit.

“Enjoyed stripping for me, did you?” he said in my ear.

“Yes,” I whispered.

He cradled the swell of my belly in his big palm and then stepped back.

“Kitchen,” he said, taking my hand and leading me in.

I gave him a puzzled look, wondering why he hadn’t said “bedroom.” I was wound tight with arousal, feeling warm and needy all over.

“On the table,” he said, unbuttoning his dress shirt.

Brenda Rothert's books