“Is that so?” I reach for a cracker and cheese, popping it into my mouth. He nods. “What else turns you on?”
“When we’re having sex and you say my name. You say it so breathless and desperate. And when you lick your lips like that.” He points at me and my tongue quickly darts back inside my mouth from where I’d been licking away cracker crumbs. My cheeks redden. “And that.” He sweeps his thumb over my cheek. “I like that even after all these years I can still make you blush.” He lies back, propping his body up on his elbow. “Now tell me, what turns you on?” I duck my head. “Don’t get shy on me now, Blaire,” he scolds.
I swallow thickly. I don’t know why I always find these kinds of things uncomfortable to talk about. Ben and I share pretty much everything. “I get really turned on when you’re rougher…possessive, like you can’t get enough of me. Like in the kitchen the other day. Don’t get me wrong,” I hasten to add, “I like slow and sweet, too. But sometimes there’s this look in your eyes like you want to devour me, and I love it.”
He reaches for my hand. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I’m not.” I am.
He chuckles. “What else turns you on?” he asks again, going after me the way I did him.
I shrug. “You. Everything about you, really.”
He smiles and his eyes twinkle. “Elaborate.”
“I don’t know how to explain it, but even when we’re doing simple things—like cooking dinner together—I find myself so turned on and just…lucky to have you.”
He sits up and takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m lucky to have you, too.”
I lean my head on his chest and listen to the steady pounding of his heart. My eyes close and I breathe in the unique scent that is Ben—clean laundry and hints of oak. I feel his fingers smooth through my hair and I inhale a small breath.
I pull away and Ben slides the plate in-between us. He picks up a chocolate-dipped strawberry and holds it out to me. Opening my mouth, he feeds it to me.
I moan—I totally don’t mean to, but I do.
When I open my eyes and lick away a bit of the juice, I find that Ben is staring at me with darkened, lust-filled eyes.
Before I can blink, his lips are on mine and the food is scattered around us.
We both move frantically, tearing at each other’s clothes like maniacs. We’re a clash of hands, teeth, and quiet gasps. His skin is heated beneath my palms, and his lips taste like the wine. He kisses his way down my body and rids me of my jeans. They join the pile with my shirt and bra and his shirt. Luckily, even in our haste, we remember the candles and didn’t toss our clothes around haphazardly.
He hooks his fingers into the sides of my panties and slides them down. He stares at me with wide eyes, like he’s never seen anything more beautiful, and what’s more is he makes me feel beautiful.
His large hands settle on my legs and he bends his head, kissing my inner thigh. I mumble something unintelligible. I’m not even aware of what I’m trying to say.
He makes his way back up my body, paying special attention to my breasts and his fingers find their way to my pussy.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he growls.
“Kiss me,” I beg, tugging on his shoulders. He obliges.
The kiss starts out slow and then deepens. His tongue swipes against mine and he makes this rumbling sound in his chest that makes me clench around his fingers.
He slides his fingers out and rids himself of his jeans and boxers.
When he slides into me I have a brief moment of panic that he forgot a condom, and then I realize that’s the whole point. Trying to have a baby equals no condom.
He holds my hips up at an angle that allows him in deeper. I moan so loud that the whole neighborhood probably hears me.
“Yes, right there,” I plead, my fingers sliding weakly down his abs.
He leans forward and kisses me. “So good,” he murmurs.
“Oh God,” I moan. I feel like a firework about to go off. “Almost there.”
When I come, my nails dig into his back, like I’m trying to hold onto him to keep from floating away.
He presses his lips to my neck. “Beautiful,” he whispers so low that I wonder if I imagined him saying the word.