Chapter Eight
Benji
Iheard the front door open and close and readied myself for Cris. Meaning, I muted the video conference call I am on and listened for her approach rather than to the team meeting.
When she stops in front of my desk, I pop out one earbud and give her my attention. She looks different than she looked on Saturday. And I don’t mean because she’s wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a yellow T-shirt that says, “Que sera sera” instead of black dress pants and a sexy red shirt with the back missing. I mean she looks different.
Her chin is higher, the set of her shoulders firmer. She’s decided something, and she’s come in here to tell me. I bet you a million dollars her speech is going to have to do with how she shouldn’t have kissed me.
I let her have Sunday to herself. I didn’t text or call, figuring she’d like a day to regroup. And possibly to rethink my offer. An offer as sincere as it was exciting. Cris plus an orgasm? Sign me up. Twice.
When my lips touched hers Saturday night, I wasn’t expecting her to turn me on. Don’t get me wrong, she’s sexy as hell. I just didn’t think of her that way. I couldn’t afford to. She’s the best assistant I’ve ever had. She’s close friends with my family. She’s…Cris. And yes, I admit, overhearing her talk dirty on the phone riled me up. How could it not? Since when did my angelic best friend start suggesting I put my hands in her pants?
I shift in my seat, aware of a certain part of me very much onboard with that plan. Thank God that part is hidden under my desk.
“Morning, coach.” I paste on a (hopefully not lecherous) smile.
Some of the fire in her eyes dims, but she recovers quickly, shifting her body like she’s preparing a speech. I glance at my screen where Josie is speaking about the effectiveness of a new software tool we’re testing out while using a lot of hand gestures. I turn my attention back to Cris to tell her I can disconnect from the call in five minutes.
My life assistant coach starts talking before I can stop her.
“On Saturday I decided that allowing you to, um, service me was not the smartest, best design for our future. I was so sure that when I visited Vivian and Nate on Sunday, I was singing the same tune. She argued, saying I was crazy not to take you up on the offer, but I stayed firm.” She makes a fist to illustrate. Damn, she’s cute. Even while turning me down. I fight a smile.
“All the way up to the point I left their house, I was certain. Hell, all the way up until I walked into this room, I was certain. My plan was to come here with my coffee already made”—she holds up her travel mug—“and walk directly to my office, not bother you, and then keep busy enough so you’d be discouraged to bother me. Not that you bother me.” A pleat appears between her eyebrows. “What I mean is, I was planning to avoid you. In the hopes you would forget we kissed. And then we could pretend I never said I’d pay a thousand dollars for”—she motions with her hand—“you know.”
I open my mouth again, but she holds up a hand to silence me. I press my lips together.
“The thing is, I’m tired of sex being this big taboo issue. I never meant for it to be! I never meant to preserve my virginity in a jar of formaldehyde. I told myself I was too busy to think about it, which was sort of the truth. But it was also sort of a lie because I’ve thought about it, Benji. Especially lately. My house is boy-free for the first time in twelve years. I’m practically an old maid at age thirty. And if that’s the wrong word, then I am at least out of touch with reality. I was never waiting for marriage. I was never waiting for anyone.” She mumbles the next part under her breath. “Or so I told myself.”
My mind is stuck on one word in particular, like tires in the mud. Did she say she was a virgin? Cris Gilbert, adorable, petite, fit, cute, funny, smart Cris Gilbert has never had sex? Like ever? I can’t wrap my head around it. The video call on my screen blurs into the background, Josie’s voice in my ear nothing but white noise. The only thing I can focus on is that Cris is a virgin and I recently offered her a free-of-charge orgasm.
I swipe my forehead. I’m overly warm. More than a little confused. A tad regretful I offered so callously. I should apologize, at the very least.
“I had no idea—”
“Save it.” She stop-signs me again and continues. “I don’t want to be treated like I’m precious or clueless. I want to be treated the way you promised. Like a woman who needs what you have to give. You did say you were very good.”
I stare at her and imagine crickets sawing away inside my ears. Or a high-pitched hum when a loud sound renders you temporarily deaf.
“I did say that,” I admit.
She walks toward me, cup of coffee and her bag in hand, the fiery determination in her eyes appearing hotter than when she first stopped at my desk. I thought she was going to tell me we were not going to do what I offered. I’m not sure that’s the case anymore.
“You don’t have to have sex with me, Benji.” She says it so earnestly, I choke on a sound that might be a plea in the making. “But I would like to have some experience before I do it for the first time with someone. If—” She points at me, scarily serious before qualifying, “If you keep your word that things will not be weird between us. And if they do, promise you’ll let me off the hook and we’ll go back to being best friends and coworkers. I need to move on to the next stage of my life. I’m stuck. Maybe this will loosen me up.”
“Oh, I guarantee it,” I murmur, still in awe.
While she’s been talking she’s walked closer and closer. Now that she’s next to my chair, her eyes snap to the screen where four of our company’s team members are partitioned into squares. Josie notices Cris standing there and waves. In my ear I hear, “Hi, Cris!”
Cris doesn’t wave back. She turns ghost-white, her gray eyes growing wider. I stand from my chair as she backs toward the door.
“Cris, wait—”
“Seriously?” she hisses before she runs from my office. By the sounds of the footsteps growing farther and farther away, and the answering slam of the front door, I assume she’s not planning on coming back.
“Guys—” I start but realize the video conference is still muted. I click the button to unmute, say a prayer of thanks for the foresight I had to mute myself in the first place, and try again. “Guys, I had something come up. Go on without me. Josie, can you email me anything I miss?”
“Sure thing, Benji.” Everyone looks as bored as before. I was definitely on mute. If I wasn’t, I’m relatively certain not all of them could keep their expressions in check after hearing what Cris admitted. As bombs go, the one she dropped was Hiroshima in scale.