Clean Slate (8 page)

She was frozen, unmoving, as his tongue probed the seam of
her lips. He thrust the tip against the tight seal with more vigor. She opened
her mouth with a sigh and greeted his tongue with her own.

She was tentative at first, but when he wrapped his arms
around her shoulders to tip her shoulders up from the bed, she engaged him more
readily, even wrapping her arms around his back and drawing him closer.

At that angle, Ben’s choices were to either fall on her or
pick her up. He compensated by straddling her waist before moving his fingers
up the back of her neck, and grabbing a hold of the end of her long braid with
one hand.

She whimpered as he applied light pressure to her bottom
lip with his teeth and pulled, while raking her hair free of its plait.

“I think you can do better,” he whispered, grazing his
lips across hers as he trailed his arms down her sides to the hem of her shirt.

She sucked in some air and put her head back to give him
easier access to her long, creamy neck. “It’s sweet you think so. You don’t
have to inflate my head.”

“I don’t waste words on untruths, Daisy.” He eased her
upright and nudged her T-shirt up and over her head. He’d forgotten how her bra
still draped over the shower door and was taken momentarily off guard by her
exposed breasts, mottled with goosebumps, and nipples pert from the cool of the
air conditioning.

He didn’t touch her, and it took a wealth of reserve he
hadn’t known he had not to. He just looked, then wrapped his fingers around her
ribs and eased her onto her back.

She watched him warily as he pulled the covers down.

He maneuvered himself down her legs, taking the sheet and
bedspread with him, and she sucked in her middle when his fingers slipped
beneath the waistband of her sweatpants.

“Ticklish?” he asked, wiggling the band down in a
side-to-side motion while keeping his eyes locked on hers.

“I didn’t think I was.”

“Hmm.” He edged off the foot of the bed and eased her
pants past her knees, ankles, and down to the floor.

She lay very still as he studied her, from her billowing
hair splayed against the stark white pillow down to the arm she pressed over
her breasts, to her perfect innie of a navel, and to where her thighs crossed
in an attempt to cover her sex.

Still, he didn’t touch. Just looked. Smiled.

“You’re aggravating my complex,” she said, and sat up to
reach for the top of the bedspread.

“Stop,” he said. He walked to the head of the bed and
kissed her, sweetly at first, then rougher the longer they touched. She was
like putty, warming to his touch and responding however he urged. He could have
probably pushed her far and made her enjoy it, but he didn’t think that’d be
wise right off the bat. She’d been put through the ringer before, so the least
he could do, at least this first time, was play it safe—observe her cues
and respond.

He laid her back down again, and she stared up at him with
eyes slightly unfocused and lips parted as she caught her breath.

It was obvious. She’d never been made love to. Not really.

He peeled his shirt off, dropped it, and paused to study
her expression as her eyes cast down from his chest to his crotch, which by
that point was behaving in a manner that was far from modest.

Slowly, he unbuttoned his shorts and let down the zipper.
He’d had the good fortune of having spare underwear in the apartment, so when
he stepped out of his shorts, there was another layer between him in the air,
not that it hid much.

He grabbed the hand covering her chest, and carefully
moved it away to let her breasts fall where they may. Even with the dim light,
he could see her face reddening at the exposure.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, lacing his fingers through
the ones of the hand he’d moved away and reaching for the other one. He pressed
her hands out to her sides against the bed, thereby preventing her from
squirming too much, and lowered his head to her breasts.

He pulled first one nipple into his mouth, then the other.
Lapping around the beaded flesh and dragging the skin out between his teeth
elicited little moans from her that only increased his arousal.

“Breast man?” she whimpered.

He mounded her breasts, squeezing them together to lick
from one to the other in a repeated sequence. “No. Why do you ask?”

She moaned.

He laughed as he backed down her legs once again until he
was positioned over her knees. Raising himself up onto his own knees, he urged
her legs uncrossed and forced her knees apart. “I’m actually a thigh man.”

“Thighs?” she asked, forehead furrowing with her
confusion.

“Mm-hmm.” He trailed his fingertips up the insides of her
legs from knees to the crux where her thighs came together, and let them linger
there. “My favorite place is right here, where your legs touch.” He leaned down
and kissed one side then the other, satisfied at how her cunt clenched at his
proximity.

“That’s an odd place to fixate on.”

“That’s because you don’t get to see it from the angle I
do. It’s perfect.” He prodded his tongue against the inside of her top left
thigh, just beneath where her satiny thatch ended. “Soft.” He trailed the tip
of his tongue up her leg further to where her panty elastic would have covered.
“Sexy.” Higher to the fleshy mound, and inward to her lips. “Feminine.”

He let go of her hands so he could manipulate the
quivering bits. He gave her clit a little flick that made her clench her knees
around his waist. “Do you have any boundaries, Daisy?”

It was an awful time to ask, and he knew it, but at least
now, her guard was down a bit and perhaps she’d feel somewhat less inhibited.
He wanted to know her desires
and
her
limits. Sometimes the two things blurred, but he was cautious.

“Don’t pull my hair,” she whispered.

“Anything else?”

She moved her torso in what he supposed was a shrug, but
it was hard to tell because she’d begun to come apart at the insertion of his
fingers into her cunt. She was so wet and judging by the way she milked his
fingers with her tight passage, she was ready.

He wanted to linger there, working her over with his
tongue until she melted into the sheets, but he suspected neither of them would
have the stamina after the afternoon they had to come more than once. He was a
generous lover, but this time he wanted that first explosive orgasm of hers to
be with them nose to nose—forcing her to stare into his eyes while they
both came.

For him, sex wasn’t just about getting off. It was an
intimate thing, and without that intimacy—the awareness of each
other—what was the point?

He slipped his fingers out of her, and rubbed her wetness
onto her clit. When he eased off the bed, she sat up and covered her chest
again.

“Stop it,” he said. He pushed down his underwear.

Eyes locked on his cock, her lips parted as he came
nearer. She offered no resistance when he uncovered her breasts once more.
“That’s better.”

She leaned back against the pillow.

“I promise to be gentle.”

She nodded, so he eased her knees apart and settled
between her legs.

He wrapped her legs around his waist, and leaned in,
sucking in some air of his own when she wrapped her fingers around his shaft
and angled him down to enter her.

She drew him in farther, tightening her legs’ grip around
his waist, and squeezing his cock hard as he eased into her. Her breath
shuddered as he drew out.

“All right?”

She nodded with eyes closed, her body already beginning to
quiver from only a few of his well-angled thrusts.

This was a woman who’d gone too long without a real man’s
attention.

Damn shame.

When he pressed his lips against hers once more, he was
surprised to feel wetness on her cheeks, and propped himself up on his elbows.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. I can’t help it.”

Help what?
he
wondered, though he didn’t press.

She’d tipped her chin back again and sighed as she dragged
her fingertips down his ribs.

He felt the bite of her nails in his back, urging him on,
so he resumed his previous slow, calculating thrusts.

It didn’t take long to bring her, and when she came with a
violent shudder, he wound his fingers through the back of her hair and tickled
her jaw with his thumbs, forcing her attention to his face as she gasped. When
she opened her eyes, he came, too, savoring the feel of her softness pressed
against his torso, her now-weak arms draped around his back, the smell of his
shampoo in her hair.

She collapsed back onto the pillow, staring at him with
lips parted, breathing ragged, and skin flushed. “Oh my God.”

He lay beside her and pulled the covers up over them both.
“You regularly pray after sex, Daisy?”

She took a moment to catch her breath before confessing,
“No. I used to pray
before
it.”

“Why are you so late?” Momma asked from her and Daisy’s
shared workbench.

Daisy, more than three hours tardy for work, tried to
ignore Momma as she unpacked her bag. She carried her lunch, which it was
nearly time for, to the staff kitchen and stowed it in the refrigerator.
Fortunately, she didn’t pass too many staff members on the way through the
barn. She’d already dodged Jerry, since he was working from home. Trinity, she
didn’t care so much about. In fact, it was Trinity who’d woken her up. It was
the rest of the staff she was concerned about. What must they be thinking?
Daisy was never late. She never called out unless she was on death’s doorstep.

“Daisy!” Nikki called the moment Daisy turned her back
away from the kitchen.

Shit
.

She spun on her heel and tried to fix her face into a
smile, but couldn’t manage it. When she reached the office door, she paused at
the threshold, wringing her hands.

“Why are you limping?”

She swallowed hard. “Am I?”

Nikki shrugged and made a beckoning gesture with her
hands. “Come in and close the door.”

Daisy looked behind her, saw her mother on the other end
of the barn staring through the office window over the tops of her glasses at
her, and turned around again. She stepped in and pushed the door shut, taking
one of the seats in front of Nikki’s desk.

When Nikki wasn’t immediately forthcoming with the expected
berating or anything else, Daisy looked up from her shoes and said, “I’m sorry I’m
so late. I—”

“I don’t care,” Nikki interrupted. “You’re not one of my
problem employees. I’m not going to bitch over a couple of hours. Besides,
Trinity called and told me you were running late. Said you were working on some
secret ideas before coming in.”

“Oh…” Lie. Actually, after rolling out of the bed and
realizing she was
not
in fact
dreaming and that she had spent the night with Ben, she’d driven
home—mortified—and tossed her cookies the moment she stepped into
the bathroom. She didn’t know what to do with herself. Was what she’d done slutty?
It didn’t matter how good the sex was, and how
wanted
Ben had made her feel when he was holding her. The fact of
the matter was they were practically strangers, and while enjoyable, what
they’d done wasn’t much more than a one stand. Oh yeah, and she’d fucking
cried
.

“I should hook you and that guy up more often.”

Daisy zoned back in to the conversation. “I’m sorry,
what?”

“You and Ben? Stroke of genius on my part sending you two
to that trade show. You really represented the brand well.”

Daisy sat a bit more upright and cocked up an eyebrow. “We
did?”

Nikki closed her eyes and nodded. “Mm-hmm. No offense, but
you’re not all glitz and glamour. You’re quiet and your beauty isn’t
ostentatious. It’s just
there
without
you having to work at it too hard.”

“I don’t work at it at all.” Daisy adjusted her baseball
cap, which had shifted from the bulk of her drying curls.

“Exactly. You look like you use our products.”

“I do.”

Hell, they were free.

“There you go. And paired with Ben, who apparently could
sell a weave to Rapunzel, you two really got this little company a lot of
notice. Look!” Nikki woke up her tablet computer and passed it across the desktop.

Daisy took it, and tried to make sense of the reports.
“What are these?”

“That’s requests for information form data. The trade show
attendees filled out. The form was Jerry’s idea. He coded the link into our QC
code on the product literature and that took the interested parties directly to
our website to find out more. Of course, we don’t
have
any information about the products because we’re making this
shit up as we go along.”

Daisy handed the tablet back. “So?”

Nikki tapped the screen with a fingertip and leaned back
in her chair. “So, all of these people—store owners, corporate buyers,
beauty columnists—they all went home, tried the soaps, and want to know
how to get them. We’re going to tweak them and get all three samples developed
into full-sized products.”

Daisy’s jaw dropped. “All three?”

“Yep. Go big or go home. We’re not going to hold anything
back. Either we put them out first, or someone else will try to reverse-engineer
them and get them out before we do.”

“People do that?”

Nikki rolled her eyes. “Oh, honey. That’s just business.”
She stood. “I know very little about soap, so I’m letting you fly free on this
one.”

Oh boy.
Daisy
closed her eyes and rubbed them with her palms. “Um…”

“Let me guess. You’re worried about your mother.”

“She could be a problem.”

When Daisy opened her eyes, Nikki walked around to the
window behind Daisy, and shifted the blinds shut.

“There. Now she’ll be even more curious. How soon can you
develop them?”

The little lady wasn’t kidding. This wasn’t a joke. Now
Daisy had to either shit or get off the pot.

“I need a week or so to tweak. Maybe more.”

“And if you do liquid hand soaps with the same scents, how
much longer?”

Daisy goggled at her. “I’m sorry? Liquid soaps?”

Nikki held up the display screen of her phone and pointed
to a series of text messages. “I talked to Trinity. Don’t keep secrets from me.
Professional no-no.”

Daisy ran her tongue over dry lips, speechless.

“And while you’re estimating that, I need a fourth soup.
Something for men.”

“Shit.” It came out in a whisper, and Nikki barked with
laughter.

“Yeah,
that’s
the kind of reaction I’ve grown to expect from my crew. Lay it on me, Daisy.”

“I…” Daisy shook her head and shrugged. “I need a couple
of weeks, especially with having to tip-toe around Momma.”

“Fine. Fill out a materials requisition and get it to
Trinity ASAP. I want all the supplies in before she leaves for her honeymoon
next weekend.”

“Okay, I’ll…”
What?
When are you going to manage that with Momma looking over your shoulder all
afternoon?
“I’ll do it tonight.” Daisy stood to leave the office.

“Great, keep me updated. I’m so stoked. Now I just need to
get Ben on board.”

“On board for what?”

“I offered him a marketing job this morning. Told me he’d
think about it.” Her grin was devious. “They always come around.”

“Oh.” Daisy’s stomach churned as she pulled the door open.
“Good to know.” If he said yes, she’d have to see him again. What the hell
would she say?

She returned to the worktable where Momma was measuring
out colloidal oatmeal. Daisy set about gathering the other ingredients for the
familiar bath soap.

“What’d Nikki want?” Momma asked, not even looking up.

“Nothing, just wanted to see why I was late.”

“Why
were
you
late?”

“I was just late. Happens sometimes.”

“Right. Called your house last night around nine to see if
you wanted me to pick you up this morning. Liz said you left before lunch and
hadn’t come home yet.”

Daisy didn’t respond. She just readied the trays.

“Where’d you go?”

“Out.”

“With who?”

Daisy sighed. “Why, Momma?”

Momma finally looked up, and jammed her fists against her
hips. “Why? Because I know it wasn’t Barry. Barry was at your place.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I sent him over there.” She rolled her eyes.
“Duh.”

Daisy felt the blood in her face drain, and she sat hard on
her stool before her body could fall. “Why would you do that? We got divorced
for a reason.”

“You were the one who filed. He didn’t want it.”

“He signed. Obviously he wanted it.”

Momma sighed. “
Obviously
he was just doing what he thought you wanted. He’s a good man, Daisy. Didn’t he
take care of you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“What do you mean,
no
?
You had a roof over your head, didn’t you? He didn’t push you to have any kids.
Brought money home.”

Daisy could hardly believe her ears. She looked behind
her, and noting a few staff members within earshot, lowered her voice to a
whisper. “Momma, he was a drunk. He treated me like property.”

“Did he hit you?”

Daisy shook her head.

“Sounds to me like you’re just sensitive. I never knew you
were so picky.”

“Picky? Are you presuming to know what went on behind
closed doors in my marriage?”

Momma put up her hands in a defeatist gesture. “All I know
is what Barry told me. Sounded reasonable. He was so sad, coming to me like
that. Asking what he did wrong. Still don’t know.”

“The Barry you know isn’t the Barry I was married to.”

“What does that even mean?”

Daisy blew out a breath. “I’ve got a headache. I’m going
home.”

“In late and out early. You trying to get fired?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.” Daisy rolled
her eyes and edged off the stool. She decided that, yes, independence was a
very good thing. She was sick of being under other people’s thumbs. Tired of
relying on other people’s grace for some measure of success. She wanted her
own, even if it meant hurting some feelings.

Even if it meant disregarding her own.