Call Her Mine (Harmony Pointe #1)- Melissa Foster Page 0,82
dipped in chocolate. “No, please, Ben,” she said with a laugh. “I can’t eat another bite. I’m stuffed, but dinner was incredible. This whole place is amazing. How did you get a reservation so fast? I heard they were booked until Christmas.”
“The owner’s a buddy of mine.” He lifted the strawberry to her lips, and his eyes darkened. “Come on, Relsy, one more bite, for me.”
“One, and then that’s it, or I’ll burst the seams of this dress.”
“That’ll save me from having to tear it off you. Open up, sexy girl.”
She opened her mouth, and he put the tip of the strawberry between her lips. As she bit into it, he said, “Mm-mm. There is nothing sexier than seeing your lips wrapped around something of mine.”
“Then maybe we need to get out of here,” she said seductively.
A low laugh rumbled out of him. He set down the strawberry with a predatory look in his eyes, and then he leaned in and slicked his tongue over her lips. She closed her eyes, barely breathing as his hand traveled up her leg, and he tucked his fingers between her legs, firmly against the thin material of her thong, and whispered, “Soon, baby, but first I have something else planned.”
The sounds of a man clearing his throat startled them apart. Ben didn’t move at first, looking out of the corners of his eyes, but then he shifted his hand lower on her leg and put a little space between them, glowering at the gorgeous man standing beside their table. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular, tattooed forearms.
“Excuse me, sir,” the man said. “We don’t allow that sort of behavior here. Ma’am, would you like me to escort this wretched beast away from you?”
Aurelia gasped, instantly turning the heat Ben had sparked into rage. “Excuse me?”
“Rels, this—”
“No, Ben,” she interrupted. “This guy is being rude. Listen, Adam Levine wannabe, we’re having a lovely dinner and this gentleman is my boyfriend.”
“Rels—”
“Ben, I’ve got this,” she snapped, her eyes never leaving the tatted-up bigmouth. “So why don’t you keep walking before I call the manager?”
She turned toward Ben and caught him stifling a laugh. She shot a look at the other guy, who was also grinning, and realized she’d been played.
“Will the owner do?” the guy asked.
She groaned. “You both suck, you know that?”
“I’m sorry, babe,” Ben said. “This is Jared Stone, and as he said, he owns the place. He’s got a warped sense of humor, but he’s a good guy. Jared, this is my girlfriend, Aurelia Stark.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Jared said. “It was all meant in fun.”
“That’s okay,” she said, relieved that he wasn’t really an asshole. “Paybacks are hell, by the way.”
Jared chuckled. “I bet, but I have to say, that was impressive. Which begs the question, what’s Ben got to hook a woman as beautiful and feisty as you?”
“They don’t call him Ten-Inch Ben for nothing,” she said sassily.
Ben flashed an arrogant grin and pulled her closer, kissing her temple.
“Yeah?” Jared lifted his chin and said, “Well, they don’t call me—”
“Dude!” Ben cut him off.
Aurelia laughed. She liked Ben’s possessive side, and she liked his funny friend, too.
Smiling, Jared said, “I just wanted to stop by and say hi. I hope you enjoyed dinner.”
“It was incredible,” Aurelia said. “Sorry for going off on you.”
“No worries. I’m glad I finally got to meet the infamous Aurelia. Have a great night. Ben, we’ll be in touch.”
As he walked away, Aurelia said, “‘Infamous Aurelia’?”
“I might have told him about you a few dozen times.” He touched his forehead to Aurelia’s and said, “Do you know how much I loved seeing you fight for my honor?”
“Probably as much as I loved the kiss we were enjoying before he interrupted us.”
“Ah yes. . .” He took her in another tantalizing kiss.
Thank goodness she wasn’t wearing lipstick, because Ben wasn’t just kissing her; he was devouring, claiming, his thumb moving in slow, intoxicating circles on her inner thigh. As he drew back, he graced her with a series of lighter kisses that left her dizzy.
He took out his wallet, threw a few hundred-dollar bills on the table, then took her hand and said, “Come on, Relsy. We’re going dancing.”
She was sure she’d misheard him. “You don’t dance.”
“I slow danced with you at Bridgette’s wedding.”
“Ben, this isn’t a slow dance kind of place, and we both know you have two left feet,” she said as he led her down the steps toward the nightclub below,