The fact was, she wanted him, and that alone was enough of a reason.
His hand tight around her waist and his body pressed to hers, Ben held her for a second while she checked to see if her legs were up to the task of standing before he let her go and opened the gate. Josey braced herself for the expected onslaught of gray as Ben opened the elevator gate. He wheeled his bike out, which was weird enough. Who parked in their house?
“Hang on just a second,” he said as he rolled off into the darkness. “Let me get the light.”
Seconds later, fluorescent lights flickered on over to her left, and Josey found herself next to a full garage. Bright red tool chests—five of them—formed a wall in back, with work benches loaded with all sorts of power tools. Ben rolled his bike to the center of the open space and parked it.
“You live in a garage?”
He gave her a big smile as he closed the distance between them. Her face flushed as he leaned down into her, his lips grazing her temple. “Not quite,” he said as he reached behind her and punched some buttons.
One by one, rows of lights flickered on down an aisle that was nearly thirty feet wide. Every fifteen or twenty feet, couches and chairs sat grouped around rugs. White modern chairs sat on a huge black shag rug; chocolate-colored leather sofas crowded Persian rugs. She counted three pseudo-living rooms that stretched back for what looked like a half mile. The space was huge, like measured-not-in-square-feet-but-square-miles huge. She craned her neck upward, searching for a ceiling. Eventually, she was able to see the duct work, but it was maybe twenty feet over her head. The light was bright and airy. Open. Free.
“Whoa.” Josey stood in openmouthed shock. This was not what she’d expected. Not even close.
“Come on,” Ben said in her ear, causing her to start. For a moment, she’d been so stunned she’d forgotten he was there. She wanted him—oh, how she wanted him—but the magnitude of this place was something else. “Let me show you around.”
Before she could be disappointed in this pronouncement, he planted his hand firmly around her waist and guided her to the first seating area, the one with white velvet divans and the shag rug. When they got there, two sets of lights flickered on either side of the aisle.
There was more. Much more.
“You’ve seen the garage. Then there’s my drums and the game room. On the other side in the back is the guest room, then the gym and movie room.”
“Oh.” Which was not terribly verbose, true, but sounded a heck of a lot better than saying, “You have your own movie room?” She did a slow turn. They weren’t rooms, per se, but one area was divided from the next by low walls that looked like they were constructed entirely of glass bricks. The glass caught the overhead lights and reflected brightness around the room. The game room had a TV that looked big enough to be a supporting wall—and the movie room had a similarly huge screen. The main difference was the seating—recliners for the movies, low rockers for the games. A third TV—a smaller one—hung over a rack of free weights, in front of the treadmill.
She spun back to find Ben watching her, his eyes blazing. Without another word, he slid her jacket off her, his fingers brushing against the bare skin on her arms the whole way down. He leaned over her to drop the jacket on one of the sofas—and, in the process, brushed his lips over her neck.
“I like to watch whatever I want, whenever I want,” he breathed against her skin. The shiver that ran down her body pushed her into his chest. “Hmm,” he hummed against the pulse that was pounding wildly at the base of her neck. But he didn’t kiss her, darn it.
Instead, he took her hand and led her toward the next area with the Persian rug. When they got there, the lights behind them shut off and the lights around them turned on. “Pool table and bar,” he said, nodding toward the left side as he pushed her down on a leather sofa. His hands stroked her shoulders as he added, “Library and office on the other side.”
Had a house tour ever sounded sexier? His voice was low, almost silky, with just a hint of the roughness that made her vibrate with desire.
The pool table