Why don't you Stay ... Forever - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,11

back to his side. “Just letting in some air,” I whisper.

He rolls onto his back and scrubs his face. “I should go.”

“Why don’t you stay?” I say quickly. “I mean, no reason for you to drive around in the wee hours. Stay for breakfast. Or, well, I don’t have any food, so we can go out.”

He’s staring at me while I jabber like I’ve lost my mind. I’m pretty sure he’s going to bail, say It’s been fun, and take off.

Then he slides the covers back up. “Sure.”

“Good.” I settle myself on the pillow, drape one arm over his body as I nuzzle in his shoulder. “Too bad we only have one condom.”

“Yeah. I’ll have to get some more.”

I go quiet as my heart squeezes. Does he mean he wants to do this again? Soon?

I hope like hell he does. Ben becomes quiet too, and I wonder if he’s spooked himself. I decide that the least said, the better, so I pretend to drift off to sleep.

In a few moments, I feel his lips in my hair. “Good night, Erin.”

I don’t answer, because I’m supposed to be asleep. But everything inside me is dancing.

In the morning, Ben and I shower. We do it together, with a lot of kissing and caressing. I learn that day that even if we decide not to have full-blown sex, we can sure do a lot. We touch, kiss, and stroke until we’re both high on pleasure, the water scouring us clean.

Tired and damp, we dress and make our way to Ben’s truck to head to breakfast.

My across-the-street neighbor, Mrs. Hampton, is out in her front yard, watering her roses. Roses bloom all through spring here, and her bushes are bursting with vibrant red, yellow, and pink.

She stares at me, hose running, as Ben and I emerge from the house.

“Erin?” she calls across our quiet street. “Good morning.”

“Hi, Mrs. Hampton.” My face is hot, and I feel like a teenager caught making out with a boy. “This is Ben McLaughlin. A … friend.”

“More than a friend, honey.” Mrs. Hampton flashes a knowing smile and goes back to watering. “Nice to meet you, Ben. Hope to see more of you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Hampton,” Ben says without a qualm. “We’re off to get some breakfast. Want us to bring you anything?”

Mrs. Hampton looks up in surprise, then nods a little more cordially. “Thank you. No, I don’t need anything. You have fun.”

Ben opens the door for me to get into his truck, then climbs in the driver’s side. He waves to Mrs. Hampton, who stares as she raises her hand in return, the water from her hose splashing on the front walk instead of the roses.

“Thanks for being nice to her,” I say to Ben as we pull out. “She was a good friend of my aunt, and she’s kind of protective of me.”

Ben shrugs. “I’m nice to everybody. Plus, I like being the bad-ass who spent the night with a hot lady.”

I shake my head. “You are so full of shit.”

“No, I’m not. You’re one seriously hot chick.”

I laugh as I recall our banter from the night before. “You need to get out of your computer closet more.”

“Why? I like it in there.” Ben heads west on Glendale toward a breakfast place I’ve told him about. “My brothers never darken the door—too scared. But you can come in any time.”

I don’t answer, but keep smiling.

Inside, I’m a little uneasy. What happens when we go back to work Monday? Do we keep this a secret? Or will Ben reveal our liaison and open us to teasing from his entire family?

Or will he even want to talk about it? Is this a one-night-stand, or what? I’m not sure, because I’ve never had a one-night-stand before.

I decide to live in the moment. We head to my breakfast place on Seventh Street, where I go often enough to be greeted by name. The staff gawps at Ben, and I watch them decide that the shy girl finally came out of her shell.

We’re served their signature pancakes, and the waitress brings me an extra muffin, on the house. She winks as she walks away.

I break the muffin—blueberry, my favorite—in half, and share it with Ben. It feels nice, dividing things between us. I always dine here alone.

“How’s your hand?” I ask him.

Ben glances at it and wriggles his fingers, as though he’s forgotten his injury. “Fine. It’s fine.”

“Good.”

Wonderful. We’ve had wild, amazing sex, and suddenly we can’t exchange