Uncommon Passion (40 page)

but Ben just pushed through it, into the cool night air.

“Lord have mercy,” Rachel said, and meant it. Hot, cold, lightning streaking through her veins, and

breathing seemed to require thought.

Ben palmed the back of his neck and shot her a look as he paced. The full moon silvered his hair, the

hard planes of his face. “Yeah.”

When he passed in front of her she reached for his free hand and found his pulse. Thumping hard

against tendons and skin, and racing. “Big rush?”

“You’d know,” he said, startling a laugh from her. Because she did know. She knew what it meant to

stop hiding and start living. He shoved his hand over his hair, then wove his fingers through hers.

“You were amazing.”

“I’m glad you were there to see it.”

“Me, too,” she murmured. “Me, too.”

The fire door opened again and Sam peered out. “Jonathan’s too wired to go to bed so we’re going out

for ice cream. Want to come?” He glanced at Ben, then at Rachel, and lifted an eyebrow. “I’m guessing

not,” he said, answering his own question.

“Ice cream?” Ben asked her.

She shook her head, flashing Sam an apologetic smile.

“See you tomorrow,” Ben said.

“We’re hosting a birthday party for our dad, and you are most welcome to join us, Miss Rachel,” Sam

said, then looked at Ben. “Make sure she gets there,” he called as the fire door closed.

Hands on hips, his blue eyes glinting in the early evening sunlight, he said, “How about brunch and cake

with my brother, Chris, Jonathan, my sister and her husband and kids, my parents, and about forty other

people tomorrow? No pressure. You don’t have to come, but I’d like to introduce you to my family.”

“I’d love to go,” she said.

“Walk you home?”

She thought about heaven’s light shining down, and the restraint in Ben’s eyes. She thought about how

much she missed him, and how much he’d changed in the last few months. She thought about what it

meant to love, about what he’d given her. “My roommate has tonight off,” she said. “She’ll be up all night.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “My place?”

“I’d like that,” she said.

They drove in silence back to his building. She spent the ride wondering what would happen, but in the

end, it was as natural as breathing to climb the stairs to his apartment, wait while he unlocked the door and

opened it for her, then walk inside.

It was as natural as breathing to slip her hand into his, follow him down the hall, and stretch out on the

bed with him. Her heart rate stuttered when he lowered himself down beside her, half covering her, using

fingers that trembled slightly to brush her hair back from her face.

It was as natural as breathing to lift her head ever so slightly and brush her lips across his. Palms

flattened against his rough jaw, she kissed him and kissed him, ravaging his mouth.

It was as natural as breathing to make love with Ben Harris. There were no gymnastics or dirty talk.

Tonight Ben touched her like she was precious to him, baring her, stroking her, heating the contours of her

soul and calling it forth from her skin. He held back, restraint in the way his fingers trembled as they

skimmed her ribs, in the way he built the pleasure with purposeful touch. His big palm stroked over her

torso, then his fingertips found her nipples. He followed with his mouth, down her neck to her breasts, then

to her abdomen to settle between her legs.

Slow and sweet and tender. Each slow stroke of his tongue against her clit, each pause while the heat

pooled in her hot spots, drove her wild until she fell over the edge, into oblivion. When she opened her

eyes, he was braced over her, shuddering.

“Ben,” she whispered. “Please.”

He smoothed a condom down his shaft, then positioned himself between her legs and pushed inside

her. The electricity skittering along hypersensitive nerves as he took possession of her body forced a cry

from her throat and tightened her muscles. He stayed like that, hard and heavy inside her, for an eternity

without moving. Eons passed, then he lifted his head from her shoulder and kissed her. Decades after that

he withdrew and stroked back in, then groaned. The sound echoed into the room like it had been torn from

his chest by an implacable hand. Her arms, legs, sex, all tightened to draw him in, close, so close to her.

Slow and sweet and tender, until hot desire and weeks of abstinence burned slowly to the ground. She

wound around him like hot gold wire, welcoming every hard thrust, the force of his body against hers, hard

planes to her soft curves. He braced an elbow above her shoulder to hold her in place. She gripped his

lower back and closed her eyes against the onslaught.

Love. This was the love she never expected to find with a man who wouldn’t care. They were making

love for the first time, and the combination of emotion and pleasure shattered her. Sharp cries tore from her

throat with each pulse of release. He held her to him, the move at once devastatingly protective and

possessive.

When he found his own release it was in the sheltering circle of her arms.

• • •

Much, much later, he lifted his head from her shoulder. As her fingers traced lazy swirls up his spine,

he spoke. “I swore I’d never fail anyone like I failed Sam. And I haven’t. I’ve just failed people in other

ways.” He lifted his head and peered into her eyes. “I’m sorry for what I made you feel. Made you do. I

hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

She smiled up into his face. “That was a lovely apology.”

He ran his finger along the piping on the bedsheet. “I worked on it.”

“I accept your apology,” she said formally.

A slow, sweet smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I love you, Rachel.”

“I love you, too, Ben.” Spurred by some wicked little demon inside, she added, “But maybe you

shouldn’t fall in love with the first woman you make love to.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. He brushed her hair back from her temple. “Maybe I made love

to her because I’d already fallen in love.”

• • •

She slept the night through, waking the next morning to sunlight streaming through the cloth blinds and

a warm, hard body next to her. She lifted her head to see Ben next to her, lying on his back, one arm tucked

behind his head.

“Good morning,” she said as she hitched close enough to temptation personified to rest her chin on his

chest.

“Good morning.” With his free hand he reached up to tuck her loose hair behind her ear. It slid forward

almost immediately, grazing her jaw and covering one eye. A slight smile quirked the corners of his mouth

as he tucked it away again. This time it stayed in place, so his fingers lingered on her jaw, her lips.

She lifted her hand and flattened it against his. Her fingers were almost as long as his but his palm was

much bigger. After a moment she wove her fingers into his, felt his warmth and strength seep through her

skin, into her bones. She turned their wrists so she could kiss the back of his hand, then flicked her tongue

against the sensitive skin between his fingers. When she finished, he turned her hand to his mouth and

mirrored her movements. The sensation of warm lips and tongue tracing the veins in the back of her hand

made her eyelids droop. After long moments where the air temperature in the room rose to meet the heat in

her blood, he draped her arm over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her across his

body.

His heart raced, she noticed at the back of her mind. He felt all the deeper emotions, desire, uncertainty,

longing, anticipation, hope. Love. He loved, and let himself be loved.

She lowered her mouth to his. It was slow and sweet and tender, the way he kissed her, brushing lip

against lip, waiting until she touched the tip of her tongue to his lower lip before opening his mouth to

claim hers. “I have to go home,” she murmured. “I can’t show up in the same clothes I wore last night.”

He gave a half-amused, half-frustrated growl, but let her go. “I’ll drive you home and pick up the cake

while you’re getting ready,” he said.

She dressed while he showered. He drove her home, where she undressed, showered, then pulled on

the white dress she’d worn to their first night at Artistary. She wound her hair into a loose, off-center bun,

slipped a cardigan through the handles of her purse, and was waiting for him when he returned.

“What will your parents think about me coming to a family party?” she asked as he opened the door and

held out his hand to help her up into the seat.

“They’ll love you,” Ben said. He dropped a soft kiss on her lips. “Don’t worry.”

So many cars lined both sides of the street they had to park five houses down from Sam’s. When they

started up the sidewalk to the front door, Jonathan barreled down the steps and hurled himself at Ben. He

handed off the cake to Rachel and visibly braced for the impact of a hurricane-strength boy at full speed.

“Hey, squirt,” he said.

Jonathan locked his legs around Ben’s thigh and climbed up him like a fire pole. “Guess what!”

“What?” Ben said with a grunt. Rachel grinned. He shot her a pained smile, shifted Jon to his hip, and

set off up the front walk.

“Gramma and Gramps brought me the police car Lego set. It’s got a cruiser and an ambulance and a

SWAT truck.” He held it out, right in Ben’s face. Ben leaned back to take in the details and nearly missed

the first step up to the front door.

“The picture of athletic grace and poise. Good thing she’s carrying the cake,” Chris said as he held open

the door. “Welcome, Rachel.”

Ben tossed Chris a response Rachel couldn’t hear, because the interior of the house was a whirl of noise

and laughter. Balloons hovered over lamps and the newel post to the banister. A Happy Birthday banner

hung over the entrance to the dining room, where guests lingered over a spread rivaling a restaurant buffet.

Mission one was to deliver the cake, so she turned for the kitchen and found Ben, Sam, and two people

who could only be their parents behind the island. The boys had their mother’s blue eyes and brown hair,

and their father’s squared-off jawline.

Ben’s warm hands came to rest on her waist. “Mom, Dad. This is Rachel Hill.”

She offered her hand, but Ben’s mother pulled her into a hug. “It’s so good to meet you.”

His father followed propriety and shook her hand with a warm, callused grip. “Our pleasure, Miss Hill.”

“Happy birthday, Mr. Harris,” she said.

“It’s a very happy birthday,” he replied. She didn’t miss the glance at his sons, standing shoulder to

shoulder in the kitchen.

“Ben’s told us so much about you, but not how you met,” his mother said.

She accepted a glass of iced tea from Sam as she looked at Ben. He lifted one eyebrow, a smile tugging

at the corners of his mouth.
Go ahead,
his eyes said.

Begin as you mean to go on, and all that. “I bought him at a bachelor auction.”

Mrs. Harris’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“I took one look at him and knew he was the man for me,” Rachel added, in case Ben’s mother was a

romantic.

Sam turned a laugh into a cough, and the smile broke free on Ben’s mouth.

“Well, what a sweet story,” Mrs. Harris said, but the glance she gave her boys told Rachel their mother

wasn’t fooled.

Ben held out his hand to Rachel. “Come meet the family,” he said.

The next few hours were a whirl of names and faces and relationships, reminiscing over plates of food,

a loud rendition of “Happy Birthday,” and cake and ice cream. Jonathan gave her a tour of the tree house;

Chris gave her the latest on the adoption proceedings. As the sun set Ben left Jonathan playing with the

Lego trucks in the dirt and joined Rachel on the swings.

“It was a really nice party,” she said.

“Sam does it up right,” Ben agreed, then nudged her sandaled foot with his boot. “Miss your dad?”

“Yes,” she said. “But . . . the last three letters didn’t come back.”

“Hopeful.”

“I told him about you. I think he’d like you.” She shrugged at Ben’s raised eyebrows. “You’re very

likable and I’m optimistic.”

“A force of nature is what you are,” Ben said. “We won’t give up.”

“No,” she said quietly. “We won’t.”

His smile, soft and slow and sweet, promised her all the warmth and shelter she could want, along with

all the independence she craved. She sighed with contentment. “I love you, Ben.”

“I love you, too,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get seconds before Sam eats all the cake.”

He draped his arm around her waist and led her through the deepening twilight, into the warmth and

laughter inside.