hopefully. I wish he’d forget the phone call instead, but if he won’t, maybe one kiss will lead to us calling it off, and then we can embrace our agreed-upon amnesia.
It’s as close to a time machine as I’m going to get.
Not that I could forget kissing Benjamin Owen. No way, no how. My gaze strays to his full lips, his rounded shoulders. He fills out his pale blue dress shirt better than any man I’ve seen. His torso is slim and fit, giving him a V formation thanks to his religious gym habit. Home gym, with a trainer. God bless Vlad. He’s an artist. I make out the outline of Benji’s pectorals through the shirt and imagine his abs—which I’d love to set my mouth to. Oh my God.
“I can’t do this.” I shove his chest. “I—”
“Cris.” Both his hands rest on top of mine. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes, but—”
“It’s me. The guy who’s known you since you were a college dropout working for my dad and I was a horny, annoying twenty-three-year-old.” His lips quirk. “Now I’m a horny, annoying thirty-three-year-old.”
I blow out a short laugh. Remarkably, he’s setting me at ease.
“You can trust me,” he insists.
I trust him more than anyone. He’s been there for me even when I didn’t work for him. I fold easier than I would have thought.
I nod. He leans in. I don’t stop him this time.
Gently, his mouth presses mine. The touch of his lips melts me like warm chocolate. The hand I put on his chest fists, and I grab a handful of material and pull him to me, slanting my mouth and deepening our kiss. It’s every fantasy I’ve had about him come to life. And proof my imagination is blurry black-and-white compared to the crisp, bright technicolor of this moment.
He returns my kiss with vigor, opening wide and touching my tongue with his. A bolt of lightning streaks through my body and ignites between my legs. He wraps both arms around my back and smashes my breasts against his torso. Then he’s diving in with renewed vigor, the scrape of his five o’clock shadow rasping my jaw.
It’s incredible. It’s amazing. It’s…
I whimper and my hips roll forward, my belly bumping into a telltale hard ridge. He grunts and then pulls his amazing mouth away.
I’m dazed. Uncertain.
He draws his chin back and smiles down at me. “Damn. You’re a firecracker.”
Then his smile blooms into one of his infectious grins.
Chapter Seven
Cris
“I’ve never had a panic attack before but I’m fairly certain if I did it would feel like this.” I tap my breastbone with my fingers and nod to back up my own theory.
Vivian is grinning like crazy. Maybe she is crazy. She’d have to be considering what I’d shared with her was not good news. Meanwhile, she looks like she’s ready to burst with excitement. I decide she is definitely crazy when the words, “You kissed Benji!” fly out of her mouth.
It’s Sunday afternoon and I should be at home, cleaning and doing laundry and preparing a few meals for the week. Instead I called Vivian and told her I had to see her in person. So here I am. We’re sitting on opposite sides of a beautiful sofa in Nate’s—and well, now Viv’s too—gorgeous home. The living room is posh yet comfortable. Take-charge, confident Vivian is sitting, legs crossed, her hands folded in her lap. I feel better about my predicament being next to her. If I’m lucky, maybe some of her confidence will spread to me. I have to go to work tomorrow, after all. After a sleepless night last night I realized I couldn’t face Benji until I unpacked what happened.
“Technically he kissed me. But I kissed him back,” I say. “And then he really kissed me. Like, with his whole body.”
She giggles. I’ve never heard her giggle. I grouse at her. “You’re losing your edge.”
“I’m a woman in love. Sue me.” She gives me a contemplative scowl that turns into a self-effacing smile. “Wait, don’t. I’ve had enough legal issues for a lifetime.”
I shake my head when she grins wider than before.
“I can’t believe you didn’t leap into his arms and have sex with him right there on the floor!” she shouts as Nate steps into the living room with our drinks.
I give him a wan smile. “Sorry you have to hear this.”
“You’re secret’s safe with me.” He hands me a glass garnished with a sprig of rosemary and a lime wedge.
“Nate’s not a gossip.” She