CHAPTERNINETEEN
Becca
I pace around Ben’s apartment, across the open-plan living room to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Staring down at the city, I wonder where exactly Alex is, how close. Or maybe he’s going to cancel.
Last night was a whirlwind. After we shared our secret desire with each other – learning that we felt the same – we ate dinner and then went to bed. He simply held me for a long time, cradling me close, his heartbeat drumming against my back.
And then I felt him stiffen, his manhood pushing against me.
“You make me crazy,” he snarled in my ear.
We did more stuff, and shared more closeness, but I was still too freaked to go all the way.
My excuse was, “We have to tell Alex first.”
But really, it was the thought of his massive cock, how unbelievably big he is, making my pussy tingle in a way that told me he wouldn’t fit.
It didn’t stop us from indulging in each other though.
Our faces were pressed close as we reached down between our bodies, my hand wrapped around his length as he toyed with my pussy, our touching getting quicker and more urgent the longer we kept at it.
Now I turn to Ben. He’s sitting in the armchair, his hand motionless on the armrest, staring straight ahead like he can’t bear to look at me.
He’s wearing a T-shirt and faded blue jeans with chunky brown boots, making him look rugged and manly in a way that nearly has me melting.
“How can you be so calm?” I ask.
“I’m not,” he says.
“Then how can you seem so calm?”
He looks at me finally. His eyes do that shimmering thing, the same thing they did last night when we were talking about the future.
Ourfuture, the one I never dreamed he’d want as well.
“Before a fight, I’d be so nervous. Terrified. I wouldn’t tell anybody. I’d sit there, seeming like the coldest bastard on the outside but dying inside. I guess that’s how it is now.”
I walk over to him, reaching down and touching his hand. “But you don’t have to suffer in silence anymore. You’re not alone anymore.”
“You’re right.” His lip twitches into something like a smile, a real smile instead of his usual smirk. “But I don’t want to make you more nervous.”
“Why…what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking this could blow up in our faces.”
The apartment buzzer cuts him short. He laughs drily, then so do I, no humor in the sounds at all.
It’s like we’re pretending.
He stands up, his hand moving as though to cradle the small of my back. It’s the way he held me when we left the cabin this morning, pressing confidently, as though telling me in touch what he told me in words last night.
I belong to him. He belongs to me.
We own each other.
I step away, instinct making me, as I think of the pain in Alex’s expression.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter.