The Fix Is In (Torus Intercession 4)

“And I won’t think you’re easy,” he said, chuckling.

What the hell was wrong with me?

He coughed softly, and I realized I’d been looking at the ground before he got my attention again and I was back to looking up at him.

“May I ask a question?”

“Of course,” I barely got out.

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

“You know I do,” I snapped at him, which wasn’t sexy at all.

“I love how matter-of-fact and angry that was,” he sighed, sounding like he might swoon.

“You can’t possibly want me right now.”

He scoffed. “I have wanted you since the first moment I saw you,” he informed me. “All I want to do is climb all over you and make you mine.”

“The hell kind of thing is that to say?” I yelled at him.

“It’s the truth,” he quipped, “so stop being so obstinate and let’s figure this out.”

“There’s nothing to––”

“Do you think, perhaps,” he began, smiling at me, “that your hesitancy lies in something other than your desire for me?”

“I’m not hesitant about anything with you,” I assured him. “I want you, make no mistake.”

“No, I get that,” he replied, his voice so soothing and comforting, I shivered a bit. “I do. In fact, I believe this reaction of yours has more to do with you than me.”

I scowled at him. “The hell does that mean?”

“It means that I think a plan would help.”

“A plan for what?”

“Seeing me again.”

“I’m seeing you now!”

“You’re yelling,” he pointed out, “and I think I know why.”

I crossed my arms and glared up at him. “Why?”

“Because you already like me and want to see me more than just while I’m here. That’s the truth, isn’t it?”

It was. “Yes.”

“I feel the same.”

The relief was something akin to what I’d felt when the plane took off from Portland and I knew I was coming home.

“So how about this,” he suggested, putting an elbow on the railing and leaning his chin in his palm. “After I go home, perhaps I could come back here, and you could visit, and maybe we could make a schedule where that would happen often.”

All I could do was stare at him, because standing there, in my home, all I wanted was for it to be ours. Together.

It made no sense; there was no logical reason for it, because we were so very different. And yet we were so very similar at the same time. We were aligned in ways I’d never been with anyone else, and the things that weren’t in sync simply weren’t all that important.

“Shaw,” he croaked out, possibly dying above me as he was awaiting my answer while I was in my own head. “Would that be something you’d want to try?”

“Yeah,” I husked.

“Good,” he said, taking a quick breath. “So since we’re on the same page, do you maybe want to come up here and make with the ravishing?”

I scowled at him again, and he chuckled, because clearly my furrowed brows that normally sent other people running had the opposite effect on Benjamin Grace.

Taking the stairs in twos, I was beside him in moments, and he caught his breath when I cupped his chin, tilting it up so I could kiss him.

I mauled his mouth, parting his lips, my tongue rubbing over his, coaxing, drawing moan after moan from him. Taking hold of his ass, I lifted him up into my arms, and his wrapped around my neck tight, plastering us together.

My body was hot, my clothes were too tight, and more than anything I wanted to feel his skin against mine. When I broke the kiss to try and tell him that, he bit my bottom lip, letting me know that he didn’t want us to be parted.

Carrying him into the bedroom, I saw that he had only the lamp by my nightstand on, making the room dim but warm at the same time. The sheet and comforter had been drawn back, and as I tumbled us down onto the bed, I was careful not to crush him under me.

“What are you doing?” His voice was breathy and low, seductive, and as I stared down into all the beautiful blue of his eyes, I noted that they were molten with heat.

“I could hurt you if I let all my weight––”

“No,” he murmured, his hands in my hair, and his legs still wrapped around my waist, tightened. “I want all of it, all of you, on me, in me—you have to trust me and not think you know best. It’s me, Shaw. I know what I want and need, and that’s you to just fuckin’ have me.” He was searching my face, willing me to listen. “Put your hands on me, and don’t stop.”

It was two stupid days but I still trusted him implicitly, and not believing what he wanted from me in bed would serve neither of us. I had to listen to my heart; it was all I could do.