Deep (Stage Dive 4) - Page 45

And that was my professional psychology student opinion, right there.

“Liz.”

“No. I can’t do this again.”

He fell silent.

Too much emotion ran through me, my body at odds with my sensibilities. Damn, this was hard. I drew back from him and started crawling off the bed. A nice long cry in a hot shower, that’s what I needed. Plus to get off. This hotel had an excellent showerhead and I’d be making the most of it, yessiree. And maybe some ice cream too. It really was an excellent remedy for a broken heart.

“Wait.” A strong arm stopped me, drawing me back against his body. I just went. The man had the muscles to put me where he wanted—he’d already demonstrated it on numerous occasions. Me liking being in his arms would just have to be ignored.

“Why?” I cried. “C’mon, Ben. Give me a legitimate reason. Why should I stay?”

“Because of this.” One oversize hand splayed across my belly, his tanned skin a stark contrast to my own. “Because of us. We made a baby, Liz. You and me.”

“Ben…”

“Shh. Relax. Give me a minute here.”

Easy for him to say; he wasn’t having yet another emotional breakdown. Fire-trucking hormones. That I wanted him so bad didn’t help at all. Sexual frustration seemed to own me. But the risk of emotional damage was too damn high.

“Didn’t realize you’d gotten so big.” His fingers gently stroked my bump. “It’s only been a week.”

“Yeah,” I sniffled. “I kind of popped.”

His nose nuzzled my neck, lips placing gentle kisses. “Have you ever seen anything more amazing in your life? Our baby growing inside of you.”

I nodded, covering his hand with my own. “I know.”

“Then share it with me. I want to see you every day. I want to know how you two are doing, and be a part of things.” Despite his soothing words, I couldn’t help but tense up in his arms. “You’re beautiful. Relax.”

“You try relaxing with a huge boner rubbing against your back. I’m trying to break up with you—not that we’re even together—and your penis is not helping.”

Next came soft laughter, but he made no move to remove said hard-on from the area surrounding my buttocks.

“You’re going to have to get over being jealous,” I said. “Eventually I’ll meet someone else. You can’t go caveman every time a guy speaks to me. Baby or no, you don’t have the right, Ben.”

“Then give me the right.”

“So you can get scared and bolt? No.”

“Shit. Look, I can’t get over you, Liz. That’s the problem.” He rested his chin on my shoulder. “You’re the only girl I want.”

I stilled. Well, apart from the frown. “It this about your erectile issue? Because you don’t seem to be having much of a problem right now.”

“I don’t have an erectile issue. I have a you issue. My dick thinks you own it, apparently. But there’s more to it than that.…”

“Cocks don’t think. We went over that.”

“We were wrong.”

“Huh. So I have a pet penis. Okay, keep talking.” Curiosity had definitely gotten the better of me. “What more?”

Heat flooded the side of my neck as he pressed his face there. “Can’t fucking stand the thought of someone else touching you.”

I rolled my eyes. Such a Neanderthal. And while both were interesting points, neither constituted an occasion for any actual change from our status as friends.

“It’s not just about the baby.” He grunted.

“I’m not so sure about that,” I said, resting my head against his. Foolish of me, but it felt nice, cozying up to him. Besides, he’d grabbed me first.

“It’s the truth.”

“Prove it.”

“Prove it? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Christ. All right. I only used Sasha…” The rest was a mumbled mess. His warm mouth pressed against my neck, smothering the words.

“What did you say?”

More mumbling.

“Ben, speak clearly.”

With a groan, he raised his head, leaning around to look me in the eyes. “I only used Sasha to get over you. Knew you couldn’t be just a casual thing, and Mal kept asking what had happened in Vegas, if I’d gone out with you or what. Then he started saying you were seeing someone and he thought you were bringing them to the party.”

“What?” I asked, screwing up my nose.

“Yeah.”

“Why the hell would he do that?”

“Why do you think?”

“God that man is such a shit stirrer.” Another coin for the swear jar. It’d be funding Bean’s college education and first home at this rate. A gap year touring Europe, perhaps.

“Always has been, always will be. So I invited Sasha to that dinner to get him off my back. And I was missing you, and you wouldn’t talk to me, and I thought you were bringing someone else.”

I just shook my head.

“I don’t know if it was just me trying to make you jealous or if a part of it was me trying to move on or what. She was a cool woman.”

My chin jerked up. “You thought she was cool?”

“You didn’t?”

“I didn’t think she was that cool,” I said in a voice without a trace of snobbery. Not even the merest hint.

“No?”

“I’m just saying, I thought she was a little bit know-it-all, really. Arrogant. And her hair was dumb. So … blue.” Her hair was impossibly cool, but no way was I admitting to that.

The silence behind me was deafening.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said in a voice that implied anything but.

“Oh shut up.” I sighed. “Fine, she was somewhat cool.” At some point I’d started playing with his fingers, twining them with mine, touching and toying with them. This was the problem with Ben. For me, being intimate with him came far too easily.

“Anyway,” he said. “That was all before I knew about the baby.”

“That was a deeply crappy and immature thing to do to her.”

“Yeah,” he said solemnly.

“No wonder she was mad.”

A nod.

Fingers caressed the side of my face tenderly.

“I’d have gone medieval on your man bits, if I was her,” I said.

Tags: Kylie Scott Stage Dive Book Series
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