It’s…perfect.
“Are you still looking at everything?”
“Never coming out,” I tell him as I tug my shirt off and replace it with his, then pull my shorts off.
I fold my clothes neatly and take them back out, and he flashes a grin at me as he looks up from his phone. He’s sitting on the bed, looking every bit as tempting as he possibly can, as I place my clothes on his dresser.
“Why don’t you have a phone?” he asks me randomly. Three years we’ve been friends, and he asks this question now of all times?
I shrug. “Why would I have one?”
“Well, for business for one.”
He arches an eyebrow.
“Facebook has video calling, regular calling, and text. Email has chat boxes for immediate things. Also, my preferred method of communication with my clients is email, because otherwise, they try to monopolize the hours that I carve out for just me. Phones just mean less face-to-face interaction. I prefer to speak to my friends or family in person.”
He smiles like he likes that answer. “But sometimes someone might want to call you to tell you to come see them.”
“If they want to see me, they know where I live or the other few places to find me. Like all the other Wild Ones, I raise the flag when I’m at the cabin; I put it down when I’m not.”
He laughs under his breath. “You’re a complicated woman, Lilah Vincent.”
“Actually, I’m very uncomplicated. As simple as they come.”
His grin turns thoughtful as I near him, and I move onto the bed next to him, careful not to let the shirt ride up.
“That’s probably the most wrong I’ve ever heard you,” he finally says.
I snort derisively, stabbing my legs under the covers. I always get cold right before I go to sleep.
Benson shifts, tugging the covers down, and I turn away, trying not to hyperventilate when he takes off his pants, revealing his nice, black boxers. He slides into bed, staggering a little, and his hands immediately go for me, grappling me and pulling me back to him.
“You haven’t pushed my hands away tonight. Is it because I finally got rid of the beard?” he muses, his hands sliding down my hip, hesitating where the T-shirt stops.
“No,” I say, swallowing thickly.
He presses a kiss to my neck before curving his body around mine a little better. I stare at the wall in front of me like it’s fascinating.
“Then why?” he asks quietly.
I shudder when he starts pushing the T-shirt up.
“Because when I woke up on top of you, I realized I wanted to do more than just sleep there.”
He groans when his hand slides up my bare hip.
“Are you really not wearing any underwear?” he asks, sounding somewhat tortured.
I swallow audibly this time. “Bugs.”
His hand pauses, and then he laughs into the crook of my neck.
“Bugs,” he says on a sigh. “Forgot about that.”
I turn in his arms, and all the humor leaves his face as my eyes take in his features, studying him now that I can see his expressions so easily.
“What are we doing right now?”
He slides his hand back over me, then he jerks me toward him until our bodies are pressed together completely. My leg comes up over his hip, and I suck in a breath when I feel something really hard and promising right up against my pubic bone.
“I don’t really know. But I know I’ve wanted to do it for the past year.”
“The past year?”
He nods slowly, his eyes scanning my face. “Always thought you were gorgeous—maybe even freakishly gorgeous,” he says, mocking my last words about Liam. Do I detect a hint of jealousy?
A smile slithers over my lips.
“But at first I thought you weren’t the type to stick around here. You’d already gone to Seattle once, so I distanced myself. Then as the years whittled on, I started seeing you as the girl next door, sort of. A constant Vincent nuisance, yet also a breath of fresh air. But never thought of anything more. Then, somehow, we became friends, and I couldn’t believe I’d ever not been friends with you.”
I inch closer to him, and he flicks his gaze over my face again.
“Then one year ago almost exactly, I was burying that damn cat your aunt had saddled me with. I didn’t even realize I liked the damn thing until I found it dead at the edge of the lake. You showed up to borrow my axe, but saw what was going on. You never mentioned the fact I was crying like a pussy over a cat, and you helped me bury him. Then you held my hand, said a prayer for him, and stayed the rest of the night while I got drunk and touched you a little inappropriately.”
I cock my head.
“You were trying to put moves on me? That wasn’t just drunken bullshit?”