CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Ben
“How did you know I’d say yes?” Becca murmurs about fifteen minutes into the journey.
I glance over at her. The road is dark, except for the traffic lights. For long stretches, as we leave the city, it’s like we can forget about the rest of the world. With the darkness all around us, we can pretend we’re alone.
We don’t have to face up to what we’re doing.
“We need some alone time together,” I tell her. “I know what you said on the phone about acting normal, pretending it never happened. We can’t do it. You can’t. I can’t. I could tell that right away.”
“And you knew I’d agree because it’s outside the city. Alex won’t see.”
She looks at me sassily, with her wavy hair framing her face.
“I know you don’t want to talk about him,” she says.
I sigh darkly. “Just saying his name should make us turn the car around.”
“I know.”
But I don’t, and we let the conversation turn to silence for a little while. My animal impulses are pumping loudly, especially after I almost lost control and rubbed between her legs.
I could tell she still wanted me to, but then I knew I’d spiral.
I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from doing more, from tearing at her clothes and revealing her naked skin, indulging by sucking on her nipples and driving my finger up into her dripping young pussy.
The silence we sink into lasts. She turns and lays her forehead against the window, looking out at the darkness, a soft smile on her lips.
The sexual energy diffuses somewhat…no, recedes, just for now, until I know I can act on it. It’s in the background, hungrily waiting to be fed.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
She looks at me sharply, her expression dropping, a frenetic look coming into her eyes. It’s like I’ve just caught her in a lie, and she doesn’t know how to respond.
“A garden,” she says.
“A garden?” I ask, laughing softly.
She stiffens her upper lip, pouting at me for a moment. She looks so kissable, so sexy, so like she wants me to take the lead.
“Yes, a garden. And that’s all I’m saying about it.”
“All right.” I laugh softly. “I won’t make you speak about your imaginary garden, Becca bee.”
She giggles, her face flooding with warm delight. The response provokes a shimmer inside of me, one I can’t remember feeling like there’s something unique about making my woman happy.
“Where did that come from?”
“What’s wrong, Becca bee? You don’t like your nickname?” I tease softly.
“But why bee?” She giggles.
“Because you don’t take things lightly. If somebody laughs at you, or you feel like you need to defend yourself, you’re ready to sting. That’s why Becca bee.”
And you’ll always keep our children safe, I almost add, but somehow stop myself at the last second.
She reaches over, placing her hand on my arm. “I actually love that name.”