No Strings

Typically, this is when I would argue with her and tell her that’s not who I am, but as I stare at my lying and cheating ex-husband and ex-best friend on the screen, I can’t help but think maybe she’s right. As I was growing up, my world revolved around my parents—trying to be the perfect daughter so they would want me. And when nothing I did made them want to keep me, I focused on trying to make a foster family want to adopt me—which of course never happened.

Next came school. I worked my entire way through college to create a future for myself. I was the model student, afraid if I slipped, I would end up failing and be on the streets. And then there was Neil—my entire sham of a marriage was all about him—his wants, his needs, his desires.

I’ve been so focused on everyone else, I never focused on me. I made it through the years with my parents and in foster care, I graduated college and have the job of my dreams, I’m living in a beautiful home with my best friend in the city that doesn’t sleep, and I’m single.

“You know I’m right,” Brianne says with a knowing grin. “What you need is to find some hot guy to have some no-strings, no-emotions sex with. A few mind-blowing orgasms, and you’ll be saying, ‘Neil who?’”

Before I can respond and tell her I’m already over him, a deep throat clears behind me. When I spin around, Ben stands there with his cup in his hand, his gaze searing into me. “Needed a refill.” He holds up his glass while his eyes remain on me as if Brianne isn’t right next to me.

“Friday night,” Brianne continues, refusing to be deterred. “We can hit up a club.”

“Bri!” Laura shouts. “Where’s my drink?”

“Coming!” Brianne yells back, snagging her phone from me and pocketing it before grabbing two of the drinks she made and heading out of the kitchen. “Friday night, Sav, it’s on!”

“What was that all about?” Ben asks once Brianne is gone.

“Like you didn’t hear.” I roll my eyes playfully.

“I was just wondering if I heard her correctly.” The corner of his lips quirks into a sexy smirk. “You looking for some no-strings sex, Savannah?” The way my name rolls off his tongue sends a shiver down my spine.

“What if I am?” I volley, trying like hell to come across as nonchalant while knowing full well I’m playing with fire. Ben is the type of man who picks up the gauntlet when it’s dropped.

And his next statement proves me right. “Then I’ll tell you if stringless orgasms are what you want, you don’t need to leave this building to have them.”

I pop a brow, silently asking him to clarify while I swallow thickly at the thought of Ben pleasing me over and over again.

He sets his cup down and backs me against the counter, one of his hands landing on the countertop next to me and the other on the curve of my hip. His breath is warm against my face as he murmurs, “You already know I have no desire to commit, and I have no doubt that the number of orgasms I could give you would have you forgetting about that asshole ex of yours.”

His tongue runs across the seam of his lips, and my brain turns hazy, imagining his tongue on my body… until his phone rings. He pulls it out and frowns, taking a step back.

“Brody, you okay?” His son’s name on his lips clears the fog from my sex-filled head. Ben is Brody’s dad. My friend. My neighbor. He’s best friends with my boss. Brianne was right. I do need to get laid, but not by him. He might not do commitment, but with everyone we’re linked to, he’s the definition of strings.

“I’m actually with her. Let me ask.” Ben looks at me. “Can you do dinner Friday night?” It takes me a second to understand what he’s asking, and then it clicks. I agreed to go to dinner with Brody, Ben, and Paola.

“Umm, yeah, sure… I can do dinner.”

“Did you hear her?” he says to Brody. With him momentarily distracted, I skirt past him, grabbing my drink and heading for the exit. “Okay, I’ll be home in a couple of hours.” Before I can make it out of the kitchen, strong hands grip my hips and spin me around, backing me up against the fridge.

“No,” I blurt out before Ben can say a word.

“No?” He says the word as if he’s never heard it before, and I’m sure he hasn’t. He’s a beyond good-looking, wealthy man. I’d bet women throw themselves at him all the time.

“No,” I repeat, my tone firm. “We’re friends, neighbors… I care about your son. There are already strings. So, no. No stringless sex.”