Talk Me Down (5 page)

“Yeah, so did I.”

“Didn’t you get an internship in Europe or something?”

Lori smiled, but there was no mistaking the sadness in her eyes. “Responsibility’s a bitch sometimes, you know?” She shook her head, setting her curls rocking. “Enough about that. Let’s talk about Ben. Did you two have a thing going before? I thought you were dating Ricky Nowell.”

“Yeah, I—Jeez, he doesn’t still live here, does he?”

“No, why?”

“Because I’ve told dozens of people how small his dick was, so that would be
totally
awkward.”

Lori snorted citrus vodka up her nose and spent a full thirty seconds coughing and wiping her eyes. Everyone was staring again.

And it only got worse after that.

“Then I definitely insist.”

“What, you think you’d find me ass-up in a snowbank tomorrow morning?”

“Not enough snow yet,” Ben answered and steered her out the door. To her credit, she managed to walk without weaving.

Lori followed behind, giggling. “I’m only two lots down, Ben. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll feel better if I drive you.”

“Yeah,” Molly added. “And it’ll give everyone something to talk about if we all leave together. Lori’s totally hot for me, Ben. She’s on me like…something. And we might let you watch if you ask real nice.”

Jesus.
Not the image
or
the gossip he needed.

“Deal,” Ben said. “Let’s go to my place.” That shut her mouth quick. Lori collapsed against his back, shaking with laughter, and he couldn’t help but smile. “All right, ladies. Let’s see if we can get you home before you embarrass yourselves.” That only sent them into another fit of laughter. “Nobody’s gonna throw up, right?”

“I only had three drinks!” Molly protested, but when Ben stopped to open the passenger door of his truck, he shot her a quelling look.

“All right, four, but that was over two full hours.”

“So you’re just naturally hilarious?”

“Yes! Didn’t you know that?”

He had, actually, and he’d also known she was cute as hell before she’d shown up in her black boots and tights and tiny black miniskirt. Then there was the snug pink turtleneck. Pink, pink, pink. It was his new favorite color.

“Lori, you need help?”

“I’ve got it,” she called as she crawled into the backseat. Ben didn’t bother asking her to buckle. She really was only about a hundred feet from home.

Molly started to climb up, pulling herself in slow motion, so what could he do but wrap his hands around her waist to hoist her in? The sweater was thin, her skin hot beneath, and Ben had an almost irresistible urge to follow her up, stretch her out on the wide front seat and cover her up with his body.

Then again, all the computer equipment in the middle might put a damper on things. Not exactly satin sheets and feather pillows.

“Ben?” she breathed, as if she wouldn’t mind having a keyboard pressed into her back at all.

“Mmm?”

Her eyes were wide in the dark, her face turned up to his. She licked her lips, calling all his attention to her mouth, his favorite shade of his new favorite color…and then she collapsed into laughter.

Right. The drunk-off-her-ass part had escaped his mind for a moment.

“Let’s go, Chief,” Lori called from the back, reminding him there was also a friend-in-the-backseat part of the evening. Then there was the possible-illegal-sex-trade complication.

“Okay,” he breathed and stepped far out of the way before he shut the door on Molly and her many shades of pink. He’d only had two beers tonight; he was fine to drive, but apparently not fine to press his hand into the hot curve of her waist.

Ben tried to convince himself he wasn’t half-hard in the middle of Main Street as he rounded the truck and slid in behind the seat.

Lori waved her hand from the back as he started the engine and jacked up the heat. “Ben, do you think I’m a lesbian?”

“Um…” A glance in the mirror showed nothing but her upraised wrist and limp fingers. “No, I hadn’t really…Why? Are you trying to, uh, find yourself or…?”

“I just want a decent date!” she wailed. “And not with some Ricky Nowell!”

“Mmm-hmm.” He’d found over the years that it was best to simply feign understanding with drunk people.

“If the opportunity ever arises, would you send a nice guy my way? I just want to go out to a movie, you know? Maybe get a little some-some. Is that so wrong?”

“Of course not.”

Molly was shaking her head in very serious sympathy. “I was just kidding about getting it on in front of you, Ben.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Lori’s not really a lesbian.”

“I’m getting that, too. And here we are!”

Lori popped up from the seat, and her forehead made a slow beeline for Ben’s headrest.

“Ow.”

That settled Ben’s question about whether she needed to be walked to her door. He ended up walking her all the way to the couch. By the time he returned to the truck, Molly was curled up with her cheek pressed against the seat back and her feet tucked beneath her.

“Hey, Ben,” she breathed and opened her eyes in a slow, sleepy smile. Some malevolent force sat hard on his chest. It was the devil, or maybe just a random satyr, whispering that this was exactly how she’d look after a night of good, hard sex. This was exactly how she could look tomorrow.

Ben twisted the ignition with extra force and heard the outraged screech of the starter. Right. The truck was already running.

“What’s wrong with your truck?”

“It’s horny,” he muttered.

“Mmm.” Another sympathetic shake of her head. Apparently it all made perfect sense to her.

Though he was well-versed on every speed limit in town, Ben broke every one on the way to Molly’s house. Professor Logic he might be during the daylight hours, but he was becoming acquainted with a whole new personality tonight. Captain Man-Slut, maybe. He didn’t care about complications or questions or intoxication. He knew he’d care in the morning, and he didn’t give a shit about that, either. He just wanted some Molly, bad.

The two hours in the bar had been pure pleasure for Ben. He’d recognized the old Molly he’d liked so well all those years ago. She’d been silly and immature, giggly and girly, but all of her still glowing with that sheen of comfort, of being at ease with herself.

She seemed to draw eyes without even noticing, seemed comfortable with attention without needing it. And she laughed. A lot. Ben didn’t laugh much, and he thought it would be a grace in his life, a blessing, to hear a woman laugh every day, every hour. To hear her laugh in his bed.

Something shivered inside his chest, scaring the hell out of him. Ben eased his foot off the accelerator and slowed down to twenty-five. He had to get it together, or he was going to make a serious mistake. He didn’t know a damn thing about her, not anymore.

As soon as he pulled into her driveway, he put the truck in Park and turned to her. “Please tell me what you do for a living.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Are you trying to take advantage of my blood alcohol level?”

“Absolutely. You know me, Molly. You know how much I hate secrets. You know I could never trust someone who wouldn’t be honest and up-front.”

“I am being honest and up-front.” She didn’t seem at all disturbed, just sad. She was still curled up and sleepy, unconcerned that his guts were tangled in knots.

“You must be doing something you’re ashamed of or you wouldn’t hide it.”

“No, I’m not ashamed.”

Instead of banging his head against the steering wheel, Ben made a calculated move. Calculated, but pleasurable all the same. He reached across the space of the truck and touched her, brushing her temple with the pad of his thumb. “Why won’t you tell me?”

Her eyes closed. She made a tiny humming sound as he dragged his knuckles over her soft skin. His thumb brushed her bottom lip, a kiss of her pink temptation against his rougher texture.

“Why, Molly?” he whispered.

She opened eyes full of sorrow. “Lots of reasons. My parents…Quinn is so smart and successful. They’re so proud of him, and they should be. He’s amazing.

“But I’ve never been as smart, never as good in school. And my work isn’t like his, either. It’s easier this way. They understand that they’d probably be disappointed, but they don’t
know.
They can’t be sure. Maybe I’m a spy. Maybe I’m an artist. Whatever it is, they can’t measure it against Quinn’s accomplishments, because I won’t let them.”

“Jesus, Moll. I know they’ve always been gaga over Quinn’s grades and awards, but they love you to death.”

“Yeah, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“What does that
mean?
Just tell me, I promise not to say anything to Quinn. Tell me what you’re doing.”

She turned and looked out the windshield. “No. If you’re going to think I’m a bad person, just go ahead.” She made a wide gesture, nearly clocking him in the face. “Look, I know I said all that stuff about Ricky Nowell, and nice girls don’t do that, but he was really horrible to me that night, and I just…” She turned a corkscrew with her left hand.

“Ricky Nowell? I don’t…Wasn’t he your boyfriend in high school?”

“Yes, unfortunately! So don’t go judging me!”

“Molly, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong, that’s what I’m talking about! If you’re not gonna like me, fine! Don’t like me. You just sit over there and be cute and disapproving. And sexy. And…I don’t have to—”

When he leaned in and kissed her, she drew a sharp, deep breath and then held it. Ben smiled against her mouth and took advantage of the quiet moment to explore the satin texture of her lips. She was just as soft as he’d fantasized, warm and yielding as he brushed his lips slowly over hers. But she didn’t taste pink; she tasted shimmery yellow.

“Why do you taste like a Jolly Rancher?” he wondered aloud.

“Oh.” She breathed citrus against his tongue. “Three lemon drops and an appletini.”

Then he followed the sweetness into warmth and wet. She opened for him, pressed closer, and Ben forgot about lemons and apples. She let him explore slowly for a moment, gliding against the slickness of her mouth, but then she wanted more and so did he, and she moaned and coaxed him deeper.

His earlier lust exploded through him, dragging him into urgency as quick and wild as the creek in spring. He felt he’d waited forever for this, through countless youthful fantasies when his hormones had nearly driven him mad. Ben grasped her hips and lifted her over all the clutter that kept them separated.

“Oh, my God, did you just
pick me up?
” She wiggled against him, settling her knees on either side of his legs. “That is so
sexy.
”

That surprised a laugh out of him, but it turned to a groan as she finally got her skirt hiked high enough that she could settle her ass against his lap. He curled his hands around her thighs, because what else was he supposed to do? And the black fabric was like cashmere, it clearly demanded petting…stroking, even.

“Oh, yes, Ben,” she whispered, pressing small kisses to his jaw. “Your hands are so hot. So hot and, and so…
big.
”

Jesus, was she talking dirty to him? No one had ever done that before, but he was damn sure he liked it. Ben kissed her hard and stroked up to cup her ass in his palms, and oh, what a perfect fit. All that firm, flexing muscle and,
damn it,
her mouth tasted like heaven.

Her encouraging noises weren’t hurting anything, either. He pushed higher on her hips, slipping her skirt up until his fingers touched the bare skin waiting for him above her tights. Her skin was even softer than cashmere and scorching hot.

Molly arched back, pressing her sex down, and Ben, determined to oblige, lifted her and scooted down a little in his seat. When she rocked forward, she fit perfectly against the bulge in his jeans.

“Ah,” they said in unison.

“Oh, Ben,” she went on, while he was still trying to reconnect with the speech center of his brain. The hollow between her legs, the plump flesh there…it all seemed perfectly designed to cover him, torture him. Her thighs strained as she shifted herself against him.

“Oh, Ben, you feel so good.”

Hell, yeah, he felt really good. She seemed to have everything under control as she rocked back and forth, so he let go of her hips and reached for the pink sweater instead. As he pushed the hem up, he made a mental note to remember the sight of her in that white lace bra later. Right now he just needed to get rid of it, and Molly seemed in agreement. She shrugged out of her coat, tangled her arms in the sweater and pulled up and then suddenly it was off, her hair falling around bare shoulders.

The delicate bra had a front clasp, thank the sweet Lord for genius inventions. All it took was one little flick of his clumsy fingers and it was falling away. Her breasts were white and small and perfect, begging for attention. He licked one rosy nipple, a slow circle around the hardening bud.

Her sigh filled the truck as she worked her fingers into his hair and rocked her hips faster.

“
Ben.
Yes. Oh, yes. I’ve wanted this for so long. Ever since that night. I saw you and I wanted to be
her.
I wanted to be on my knees for you, taking all of you into my mouth.”

Holy
shit.
He knew his fingers were digging too hard into her waist, but he couldn’t stop them, just as he couldn’t stop his mouth from being too rough. He scraped his teeth over her pebble-hard nipple and Molly keened. When he reached up her back to ease one hand into her hair, to hold her tight to his lips, Molly moaned in eager approval.

He knew she was close to coming, the friction of her rubbing driving even him close to the edge, and Ben’s mind was a writhing mess of conflicting ideas. He wanted to push her further, make her come screaming, and he wanted to lift her up and unzip his jeans and sink deep inside so they could come together. He wanted to gather her up and take her into her house and do this right, on a bed, in private, for hours.