Going Under (Wildfire Lake 2)

“That and the whole man-about-town thing he’s got going on. After what Bodhi did, I’m not up for active competition. I want a man who only wants me. That’s not Xavier’s way. He’s a bit like you in that regard.”

“Well, shit.” I say, seeing things in an entirely new light. “That’s probably why Ben’s been dragging his feet.”

“He’s obviously found a way to deal with it, or he wouldn’t be texting for a booty call.”

“He’s really the perfect guy for friends with benefits,” Laiyla says. “He doesn’t have time to develop any more than that, and he’s already got three beautiful, healthy kids, which means he doesn’t have the whole marriage-baby time-clock thing going on.” Laiyla nudges me with her foot. “Go on.”

Instead of texting Ben back, I just go. I changed when I got home from the party, now in cutoff shorts, a hoodie, and flip-flops, hair up in a messy bun. It’s chilly out, but not bad. When I start up the walk toward his front door, there’s still an inkling of this is a bad idea gnawing at my gut.

Then he opens the door wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and bare feet. His hair is wet, and I can smell his clean, crisp scent from the porch. I realize I’m a little disappointed he showered. I love his natural scent.

I step into the foyer. “Hi.”

He closes the door and immediately wraps his arms around me, picking me up off the floor. I circle his hips with my legs and twine my arms around his neck. Then I kiss him. And kiss him. And kiss him. He didn’t shave in the shower, and his stubble is rough against my face, which I love.

I have no idea where he’s carrying me, but I don’t care. Kissing him seems to fill my soul. When a door closes, I pull back and look around. “What room is this?”

“Guest bedroom. Away from the girls.”

The blinds are drawn, and the light is dim. Still holding on to me, he crawls onto the bed and I let the flip-flops drop from my feet. In the center, he sits back on his heels and draws me close, so I straddle his lap. I fist the back of his tee and pull it up and over his head. He immediately does the same with my hoodie. Then his hands are everywhere, warming my skin and tingling along my nerves. He kisses me deep and slow, and I swear we could be talking without words.

“I’ve been waiting for this for-fucking-ever.”

“I wish time would stop.”

I realize I’ve spent my entire life underestimating the power of a kiss, because Ben has me aching. He pulls away to catch his breath and presses his lips to my forehead. I let my hands slide through his hair, so soft and thick. His shoulders are wide and muscular, and God, skin to skin like this, he feels amazing.

Then he reaches between us, flicks the clasp on my bra, and drags it off my arms. Now my breasts pillow against his bare chest, making it hard to breathe. Other men would be finished by now. Seriously, I’ve been with guys who can’t even seem to hold onto their shit until they get their pants unzipped. But Ben acts like there’s no rush, like we have all the time in the world. The erection pressed between my legs says different.

He tilts his head and kisses my shoulder. Then my neck. All while his hands slide up my back to my shoulders, then down to my waist.

I push my hands into his hair and draw his head back to look into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything’s perfect. So perfect.” He pulls the elastic band from my hair. It falls everywhere, and he smiles as he brushes it back.

I tilt my head, silently questioning him.

He sighs. “I just don’t want this to end any sooner than it has to. If I only get you once, I want to draw out every second.”

Those may be the sweetest words anyone has ever said to me. The tingle of tears bridges my nose. A sting forms in my eyes. Then, fuck, I’m not just struggling to stay afloat, I’m going under.

I can’t do this.

The fear is foreign and confusing. I’ve never been afraid of sex before. Never been afraid of men. But I’m damn fucking scared right now. Of this pretty, beta physician who I barely know.

This is insane.

Who the hell am I? I don’t recognize who I’ve become over the last seven months, or who I turn into with this man. I’m no longer the disconnected, careless sex seeker, and now I don’t know where I fit.

So I fall back on what I know. What I’m good at. I push up on my knees and reach for the button and zipper of my shorts, then stand on the bed while Ben helps me shimmy them over my hips. As soon as they drop, his mouth goes straight between my legs. He cups my leg behind the knee, pulls my thigh over his shoulder, and licks me. I drag in a sharp breath right before he pulls my other leg out from under me. I fall on my butt, laughing. A devilish smile flashes across his face, but melts into a look so intense, I shiver.

He bends over me, kisses my breasts, my belly, and dips his head between my legs again. The mere touch of his mouth makes me arch, then he licks and sucks and, fuck, I’m gone. I absolutely can’t form a thought. I can only experience every shard of pleasure, every unexpected shiver, all the ecstasy pulling me into a climax I didn’t see coming. It hits hard, obliterates my mind and twists my body. But I can’t catch my breath. Ben’s still exploring, his tongue drawing lazy circles around my clit, driving me insane, but too leisurely to draw another peak.

“Ben,” I say breathless. I curl toward him and push my fingers into his hair, hold his head steady and lift my hips into his mouth. He gives me a little pressure and a quick suck that lights my brain on fire. But the orgasm I need is just out of reach. And Ben’s watching me as he eats, eyes dark and hungry. “Ben, I need it. Need it.”

He growls and covers me with his whole mouth. The sound vibrates against me and the wet, hot pleasure of his mouth shoots me straight to the peak again. The orgasm sings through me, better than I anticipate. Satisfying me down to the bone.

I drop heavily against the bed and stare blankly at the ceiling. My vision is blu