Marx Girl

I take off back inside and make my way upstairs to Joshua and Natasha’s bedroom. I find Tash getting dressed in her large walk-in dressing room. “Hey, babe.” She smiles as she pulls her bra on. “Did you wet the bed?”

“No. Oh, my God, Tash, Eric reopened the cold case on Ben.”

She frowns. “What?”

“He told me to stay away from Ben and…” I stop myself. I don’t want to tell her that he said he doesn’t trust Joshua, either.

“What cold case?” she mutters as she pulls on her jeans.

“TC.”

She frowns. “Why?”

“Because he’s a fucking idiot, that’s why,” I whisper angrily.

“Fucking hell.” She thinks for a moment. “Well, he won’t find anything.”

“We kind of had a fight.”

“I thought you might.”

“Ben was a real dickhead last night.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And Joshua and Brock didn’t help the situation,” I add.

She nods, and sits on the bed to put on her shoes. “I did think that maybe Eric would be pissed with them, too.”

“What happens if he wants to question Ben? What happens then, huh?” I whisper in panic.

“Well, just tell Ben everything you know. That way he’ll be ready and expecting it.”

“I don’t even know where he’s staying,” I reply.

“He’s here.”

“What?” I frown. “What do you mean?”

“He’s in the guest wing, and he’s staying here until he finds an apartment.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You know he would stay with us. He’s going to look at apartments this morning with Joshua. As if Josh would let him stay anywhere else but here.”

I frown as I stare at her. “So, he’s serious about staying here in Australia?”

“Yes.” She shrugs. “Apparently so. I don’t think he’s going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. “He needs to go to back to wherever the hell he came from. This is a disaster.”

She smiles as she starts to brush her hair.

“This isn’t funny, Natasha.”

“Seems pretty funny to me.” She smiles sarcastically.

“Unbelievable.” I leave the room in a rush, moving to the end of the hall and up another set of stairs. The guest wing is a self-contained guest bedroom above the four-car garage. I stand outside the closed door for a moment as I steel myself to see him. I knock quietly, but there’s no answer.

I knock again and still no answer.

I swallow my fear and slowly open the door.

He’s fast asleep and spread-eagled on the bed.

Completely naked.

My stomach drops.

Holy fuck. He’s beautiful.

5

Bridget

I stand at the foot of the bed and watch his chest rise and fall as he breathes. His large body is rippled with muscles, and his skin is dark against the white sheets. His legs are spread, and one arm is raised and tucked under his head. His eyes are closed.

He has a scattering of dark hair across his chest and an eight-pack of stomach muscles. My eyes drop lower and my mouth goes dry.

He was never a small man, but holy hell. The word ‘Adonis’ comes to mind.

My stomach flutters and I swallow the lump in my throat.

I glance back at the door. I shouldn’t be in here ogling him without him knowing.

Shit. I drop down to sit on the bed, unsure of what I should do next.

My eyes drop to between his legs. Fuck, he’s beautiful.

He rustles, his eyes open, and he looks at me blankly for a moment before he gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Now, that’s a beautiful face to wake up to,” he whispers sleepily.

I stare at him, unsure what to say at being caught spying. Not that he seems to mind. He always was very sexually confident. It looks like nothing has changed.

“Good morning, angel,” he whispers.

I frown when he calls me ‘angel’. Does he remember that he used to call me that?

“Can you put some clothes on, please?” I whisper.

He smiles sleepily. “What’s wrong, baby? You don’t like me naked?”

I shake my head, unable to force the lie through my lips. He slowly strokes his dick as he wakes fully, and I have to tear my eyes away. “Ben,” I snap. “Stop it.”

He smirks, pulls the blankets over to cover himself, and then puts both hands behind his head as he lays on his back. His eyes have a boyish charm to them, and they glow cheekily.

“We’ve got a problem…” I murmur.

He raises his eyebrow and smirks harder.

“Not that.”

“Not what?”

“Your dick.”

He chuckles. “My dick is not a problem for me. Is it a problem for you?”

For God’s sake... too right it’s a problem for me. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I whisper, annoyed. “This isn’t a joke.”

“What isn’t a joke?”

“Eric looked into the TC case last night. He came home from work this morning, demanding that I stay away from you and telling me that he has evidence that you did it.”

He frowns. “And yet, here you are.”

My eyes hold his as I sit on the side of his bed. He smells good, like soap and man and sex on legs, all mixed into one hell of a cologne. “Ben, be serious,” I whisper. “This isn’t a joke.”