Chapter Twenty
Benji
Cris is lying on her belly, the sheets pooled at her waist. I have no idea what time it is, but we’ve been at it a few hours. We paused to warm up the bathwater and slide in. I extinguished the flames on the floating candles first, but we left the rose petals. Sitting across from her in the wide tub, the moonlight streaming through the window and hitting her fair hair, I couldn’t help thinking how much time we’ve wasted together not having sex.
Because, fuck, are we good at it.
When she stepped out of the tub, some of the rose petals stuck to her naked back and legs. I carefully removed them, kissing the skin behind each red petal. When I led her back to the bed, she dropped to her knees and took me in her mouth before I could lay her down again. As good as that felt, having sex with her was ten times better.
Now, after we’ve both spent ourselves again, she’s propped up on her elbows, her fingers clasped together, her blond curls a riotous mess surrounding a cherubic face. Only she looks less angelic since I know what she’s capable of.
I decide to pose the question I’ve thought at least one hundred times since I first kissed her. “Why haven’t we done this before?”
She laughs, adjusting her position and revealing creamy breasts with pink nipples I can’t resist touching.
“What’s so funny?” I ask as I brush one of those nipples with the side of my knuckle.
“When would you have had the time?”
“Meaning?” I’m not offended. I actually have no idea what she means.
“Come on, Benji. We both know you date a lot. I’m not sure when you would’ve slotted me in between all the women you were wining and dining.” She gestures around the room at the roses and vases, and the remaining two donuts (we stopped for a snack after the bath and round two). “Evidently—obviously, this isn’t your first rodeo.”
NowI’m offended and uncomfortable but unsure why. It’s not like she’s wrong. I date a lot. Not constantly, but often. But she’s wrong about part of her observation, and I feel the need to point that out. A little in my own defense, but mostly so she doesn’t underestimate her power.
“I’ll have you know, this entire setup for the hotel room is completely unique to you. I’ve never treated a woman to such decadence. At least, not all at once.” Jewelry, roses, candlelight, and a night spent steeped in romance is a recipe for a woman having the wrong idea about where we’re headed. I’ve never put on a show for anyone for just that reason.
“No VIP treatment for Marla?” Under the guise of teasing me, she’s concerned about how she compares to the women in my past. Her mouth is a cupid’s bow of impishness, but insecurity shines in her eyes.
“We’ve already discussed how she doesn’t measure up to you. I’m not going to lie, I’ve sent flowers to the women I’ve dated. I’ve given them gifts. Never jewelry,” I add, realizing that damn, I never bought a woman jewelry until Cris. Except for Lainey, but moms don’t count. “The roses and the candles were for ambiance. The necklace was for…” I’m suddenly weirdly embarrassed. I lick my lips and will myself to finish the sentence. “The necklace was because I want you to know how strong and capable you are.”
Something warm and gooey seeps into her expression before she wills it away and rolls her storm-gray eyes. “And it had nothing to do with my state before tonight?”
“Your virginity was a big consideration.” How could it not be? “That you’re my best friend is another. If I would’ve booked a cheap motel and bought a heart-shaped box of chocolates, you wouldn’t have let me live it down.” She laughs, and the tension in my chest uncoils. “The event gave us an excuse to fly down here, away from who we are at home. I thought it’d help you relax.”
She props her jaw on her fist and leans her head to the side, studying me. I’m having trouble meeting her eyes, my gaze skittering over her bared flesh and wild curls instead. As I mentioned earlier, the idea of her assessing me makes me nervous. She knows me well. It wouldn’t be hard for her to come to whatever conclusion she’s trying to shake out of the tree.
But I know myself well too. I’m in charge of what I show and what I hide. Normally. Naked and under her scrutiny, my cloaking mechanism is not working as well as it should. Sex has a way of leveling my brain cells. My guard has dropped. God knows what I’ve revealed without knowing it.
But this is Cris, I remind myself. The one thing she needed from me happens to be the only thing I have to give. She lost her virginity in an elegant, satiating, body-melting dance.
“You are one of the most sincere, genuine people I know,” she says. I start to sweat, worried she can tell I’ve been sitting here trying not to be either of those. “Why all the dating? I don’t get it. I was certain you were going to keep jumping from one relationship to the next like a rock skipping across a lake, until you met Trish. Then I worried—I mean, wondered—if you two would last.”
The mention of my ex-girlfriend startles me so much I’m unable to hide my shock. Thanks, sex. “Why did you think that?”
“That was a long relationship. Longer than any other relationships you’ve been in. I mean probably.” She picks at a loose string on the blanket. “I wasn’t like, tracking it or anything.”
“What does length have to do with it?”
“I didn’t have much experience before, but after tonight I’d say length matters quite a bit.” Her eyebrows lift into a saucy wiggle. Then the beautiful smartass lying across from me lifts up the sheet to inspect my naked body. That earns her a kiss. I can’t help myself. I’ve always enjoyed my ego being stroked, in addition to other parts.
She drops the sheet. “Most people measure successful relationships by how long they last. You dated her several months. Didn’t you think it was going to turn into more at one point?”
I’m already shaking my head. “No. Trish and I got along, but neither of us were anxious to take it further.”
Absently, Cris picks at the string again. Or maybe not absently. I have a feeling she isn’t meeting my eyes on purpose. “Why did she end it?”
“She didn’t. I did.”