brushes past the people who step into his path, trying to stop him for conversations. His eyes are sweeping the room, looking, searching. My heart thunders in my chest and I nearly use Pete to block myself from his view, but it wouldn’t do any good. This is my life. Ben is my boyfriend. I’ll just have to get used to the overwhelming emotional grenade he sets off inside me by simply walking into a room.
When it’s clear that I’m not in the living room, he turns for the kitchen then pauses and glances out the window. The invisible rope tied between us pulls taut when he glances my way. We’re half a back yard apart and it feels like he just ran a finger down my spine.
“Do you know him?” Pete asks, turning to look between Ben and me.
I forget to answer him as Ben winds his way through the party and steps outside.
I forget to blink. I don’t think I’ve taken a breath since he walked in the front door.
He walks straight to me, confidently, boldly, and bends low, kissing my cheek, whispering next to my ear. “Sorry I’m late.”
I squeeze my eyes closed and nod.
When he steps back, it’s only far enough for him to loop his arm around my waist and tug me close.
“I’m mad,” I say quietly.
He glances at me. “Yeah?”
I have a frog in my throat that prevents me from continuing, so I nod. Yes, mad. Why again…? Ben’s shirt is so black and his arm is so strong.
“Because I lied to you?” he offers.
YES.
I jerk my gaze to his amber eyes and he can’t hide his smile. He’s not even pretending to look worried about my supposed anger.
“I’ll tell you all about it.”
Then his gaze flicks to my mouth and I think he wants to kiss me, but Pete’s still standing there, staring at us. “So, I take it you’re not single?” he asks, laughing good-naturedly.
Ben arcs an eyebrow at me as if to ask, Well?
“No,” I say, keeping my attention on him. “I’m not.”
Pete shrugs. “Figures.”
When he walks away, Ben turns and steps in front of me, pushing me back. The garage is behind us. The door is closed, but Ben clearly isn’t going to let that stop him. People are definitely watching us. If I looked up, I’d find faces pressed to the windowpanes in curiosity, noses flattened like pigs.
“Where are we going?” I ask nervously.
He reaches behind me to open the door and then he pushes me backward. “Step up. There’s a stair.”
He mostly lifts me up and into the cold, dark space.
A light flickers on and the door closes behind him. There’s a car parked inside and a bike leaning against the wall beside some tools.
Our footsteps echo against the concrete floor as he pushes me deeper inside.
“I’d like to apologize for my absence,” he says, his finger looping through my jeans so he can pull me close.
“Where’d you go?” I ask, arms crossing over my chest.
The skin around his eyes crinkles, but he doesn’t smile. “I’ll tell you after you say you forgive me.”
I shake my head and lift my chin. “No.”
He hums and reaches for my silky tank top, twisting the material in his hand. “It appears we’re at a stalemate.”
“Guess so. Maybe I should go back out there and chat with Arianna’s brother.”
I don’t mean the threat. There’s not enough heat behind it. He glances down to the floor, smiles, and then his eyes meet mine again. He’s not jealous. He’s amused. He thinks I’m cute. He wants to bop me on the tip of my nose.
“That’s it, huh? Now that I’ve turned you into the real Madison—the bad Madison—you’re just going to up and leave me?”
I have to bite down on my smile. I shrug and look away. I even manage to look at my nails as if I’m bored. It’s only half convincing at best.
I arch a brow. “Maybe so. I’m a hot commodity now, Ben. That guy wanted to take me to the beach. I think he was picturing me in a bikini.”
He steps forward and grips my waist, brushing his hands up under my tank top. His thumb drags across my bare navel. My stomach dips in anticipation and there’s no fooling him now. He just revved my engine and he knows it.
“Are you going to tell him about all the bad things you like to do?” he asks, dipping low and whispering the next words against the shell of my ear.