Текст книги "Craving Him"

Автор книги: Kendall Ryan

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

“Yes, just water for me please, but what beers do you have on tap?” I nodded to Emmy.

Emmy’s lips curved in a smile as she listened to the choices, and then placed her order. I knew my girl.

Once the server was gone, Emmy shot me a curious glance. “Water because of your shoots coming up?”

I nodded. It actually wasn’t, but letting her think so was easier. I wanted all my wits about me to deflect Fiona’s cruelty from Emmy tonight. I didn’t want alcohol slowing my reaction time or numbing me to the situation. This was essentially the first time they would be forced into each other’s company, and frankly that scared the hell out of me. I would need to play interference. I wouldn’t have Fiona belittling my girl.

The evening breeze picked up strands of Emmy’s hair and lifted them from her neck. I watched her, mesmerized, until a wave of laughter with a British accent interrupted our silence. My stomach cramped. My new girlfriend and my ex-lover at the same table. Fuck.

Emmy

Fiona strolled onto the terrace in a flowing orange sundress on the arm of an older bald man, who I assumed was our company for the evening. She looked gorgeous, as always, and I hated her for it. While my hair was three times its normal volume and frizzed out of control from the humidity, hers was flat-iron sleek and smooth and hung in a glossy wave down her back. Her lips were painted in pink gloss, and were those false eyelashes? I resisted rolling my eyes and instead followed Ben’s lead, standing to greet them both.

She kissed Ben on both cheeks and I clenched my fists so tightly my nails cut into my palms. Ouch. Breathe, Emmy, I reminded myself.

The bald man introduced himself as Gentry Smith. He was the photographer for the photo shoot.

Once we’d ordered drinks, Fiona stood from the table, one hand resting on her little swollen belly. “Will you excuse me a moment? I need to visit the loo. This baby makes me wee more.” She chuckled.

Whore.

I had no patience for her or this pregnancy. If that made me a terrible person, so be it. I was trying my damnedest to be polite and well mannered around her. I couldn’t also be expected to control my thoughts. And in my mind, I’d clawed her eyes out before the appetizer even arrived.

We dined on grilled swordfish, tiger prawns, and scallop mousse, which I didn’t think I’d like until Ben urged me to try a bite from his fork. I found it surprisingly good. But my favorite dish of the night was the garlic and Parmesan risotto. It was creamy and salty and I ate every bite on my plate.

I did my best to ignore Fiona, which was relatively easy. I focused on the delicious food as Gentry talked endlessly about all the models he’d shot over the years. It was poor taste, really, to brag as much as he did, but none of us minded because I sensed that Ben and Fiona were just as glad for the distraction as I was. He only talked briefly of their photo shoot on the beach, and I’d asked a few basic questions about his start and end times, like any good assistant would, before the topic was changed to cover the rest of Gentry’s impressive list of accomplishments.

For being pregnant, Fiona didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. She merely pushed the food around her plate, playing with it more than eating. For dessert, though, she requested pink grapefruit salad, and though I’d wanted the cheesecake I kept my trap shut and nodded along, ordering the same.

Ben leaned toward me. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” I answered.

He frowned, the crease in between his brows deepening as he studied me. He knew me too well.

Ben’s left hand remained on my knee throughout the meal, his thumb softly caressing my skin. A few times I caught Fiona’s gaze slipping back and forth between me and Ben and I wondered if she was pondering what he saw in me. I couldn’t say I really felt bad for her; it was more like a subtle awareness permeating the air, reminding us all that he’d picked me and not her.

His hand crept higher on my thigh, his fingertips pressing into my flesh. Lifting my chin to look into his eyes, I saw a man in need. His intense hazel gaze was locked on mine and a shiver zipped up my spine. I had no idea what he was trying to tell me. Only that he seemed to need something. I fought to quiet the anxieties plaguing my mind.

He’d completely tuned out Gentry’s rambling. His gaze was glued to my thighs where the sundress had hitched up when I’d sat down, and his fingertips traced little circles along the tender skin. His eyes were dark and hungry, almost primal in his craving for me. I pushed my knees together, trying to stop the little darts of pleasure racing up from his touch and making my panties feel constrictive over my sensitized flesh.

He’d been so attentive, so loving that I was starting to feel guilty making him wait so long. We’d already been intimate, already breached that boundary—many, many times in fact. But now because of the whole Fiona pregnancy fiasco, I’d sworn off sex with him. It probably wasn’t fair for him. Or for me. Maybe I would change that tonight.

* * *

After dinner Ben led me inside our darkened hotel room, pressing my back against the door and taking my face in his hands. I tried to decipher the meaning in his haunted gaze but suddenly his mouth was crashing against mine, his lips firm and demanding. I parted my lips and his warm tongue sought entrance, sucking at mine greedily. His mouth moved down my throat, licking and stroking the skin with his tongue. Pressing his hips to mine, I felt the evidence of his arousal and I brought my hands up to his chest, my nails lightly raking over his firm pecs and abs. Moving his mouth from my skin, Ben captured my wrists and pinned them above my head. “Don’t touch me if you’re not going to finish the job, sweetheart.”

Holding my hands against the door, Ben pushed his erection into my belly and a raw whimper escaped my throat. His eyes were filled with desire, and when he pressed into me I felt the rigid lines of his body, smelled the crisp sent of his cologne, and heat pooled between my legs.

“Fuck,” he cursed loudly, dropping my wrists and turning away from me. He stormed across the room, both hands raking through his hair, and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

Whoa.

What had I done to set him off tonight?

Crossing the room on shaky legs, I paused at the sofa to remove my strappy sandals and then padded barefoot across the marble floor. I knocked tentatively at the bathroom door. “Ben?”

Silence.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Just fucking dandy,” he answered, his voice tight.

Sheesh. I didn’t know what started his temper tantrum but I was near certain I hadn’t done anything wrong. “Ben, please talk to me.” I tried the door handle and found it unlocked. Pushing the door open slowly, I found him leaning over the sink, his hands gripping the marble countertop, his head dropped forward.

My stomach twisted nervously. My mind jumped to the worst-case scenario. . . . Was he racked with guilt over something else he needed to confess about him and Fiona? Heaven help me because I knew I couldn’t take it. And I was eighteen hours from home.

I wanted to ease his anxieties, to tell him whatever it was we’d get through it, but I couldn’t form the words. Instead I waited, twisting the bracelet on my wrist. Finally he turned.

“I can’t do this.”

My stomach dropped. God, why had I thought it was a good idea to eat scallop mousse? It was threatening to make an appearance.

He stepped closer, towering over me in my bare feet. “I can’t share this room with you, sleep in the same bed, and be expected not to touch you. I love you, Emmy. You’re mine. All of you. Your heart, mind, and body. And I’m yours.”

“W-what are you saying?” I stammered.

“I just can’t take it anymore,” he said, releasing a heavy sigh filled with pent-up frustration.

“You don’t want me?” I asked.

He laughed. The bastard actually laughed, a rich throaty chuckle that tumbled from his perfect mouth. “I’ve had the biggest case of blue balls since we got back together. I’m about to make the fucking Guinness Book of World Records. I’ll have to see a doctor to make sure this won’t cause permanent damage in case you want kids someday.”

My heart swelled. He’d never discussed wanting children, and I suddenly found his little tantrum incredibly cute.

His hand unconsciously went to the bulge in his pants and he winced as he adjusted himself.

My eyes followed his movement. Oh. Heavens, that thing took my breath away. Had he escaped to the bathroom to deal with that on his own? Was that what this was about?

Everything struck me at once. Ben wanted me. He loved me. He needed this—to be intimate with me, for me to accept him and all his baggage. And I was denying him.

Bringing my hand toward him, I lightly rubbed his manhood through the thin material of his dress pants. His eyes flicked to mine and a low growl rumbled through his chest.

“You need me to kiss it and make it better?” I whispered.

His breathing faltered in his chest. “Don’t tease me, baby. I can’t take it.”

A slow smile curled on my mouth. I was ready. And not just because of his pouty tantrumlike behavior. Even at dinner I’d questioned myself, and now alone with him in this room it was obvious. I wanted him, too. All of him. He was right, he was mine and I was his. There was no sense in waiting any longer. I worked to free his belt, taking my time pulling it from the loops while my eyes danced on his.

“Baby, stop, stop.” His hands held mine, preventing me from pulling down his zipper. “Not like this. Not because you feel pressured.”

I shook my head. “That’s not it.”

He pushed a lock of stray hair from my face, cupping my cheek. “Seriously, I’ll take a cold shower and sleep on the couch. I’m not letting you do something you don’t want. You wanted to wait. And we will.”

“I’m done waiting.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “What brought that on?” he asked, still holding my hands in place.

“Because.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I’m a woman. And I’m emotional and sometimes unsure and I change my mind about things. A lot.” I kissed him again, his bottom lip jutting out the tiniest bit in a pout. “And I’ve decided. I’m ready.” Kiss. “For this. For you. Us.” Kiss.

Still cupping my face in his big, warm palms, his thumb lightly stroked my cheek. “Are you sure about this? I told you I can’t take it if you’re just playing around.”

“Don’t pout,” I scolded him, pulling my hands from his hold so I could free his button and tug down his zipper.

He dutifully dropped his hands to his sides. Good boy. He was going to cooperate. I understood my changing moods may be giving him whiplash, but I really was ready, despite his sudden hesitation. Tugging his pants and boxer briefs down over his hips, Ben’s hands went to rest on the top of his head and he looked down at me in wonder, his lips parting slightly.

I dropped to my knees in the ultimate submissive gesture. Pulling the material the rest of the way down his thighs, his cock sprang free, leaping to greet me. I’d forgotten how big he was. My skin heated at the sight of him and my mouth watered to taste him, to please him. He was swollen and had a thick vein pulsing along his shaft. Wrapping my fist around his long, thick cock, Ben let out a strangled moan. Apparently he wasn’t going to last long tonight. I’d kept him waiting too long. A few simple touches and he was nearly there.

Hands fisted and still resting on top of his head, he pushed his hips forward, invading my mouth deeply. I accommodated his length, sliding my mouth all the way down until my lips were around his base. His knees locked and his entire body clenched in response. I loved pleasing him like this. Even though I was the one on my knees, submitting to him, I felt sexy and powerful.

His hands moved to my jawline and he cupped my face as he pulled himself free. “You’re going to make me come already.”

I smiled up at him, my lips swollen and my knees protesting from the unforgiving marble floor. Ben lifted me up under my arms and didn’t stop until he’d placed me on the countertop so that I was facing him. In this position we were nearly the same height, and he pressed his lips to mine. “I need to be inside you, baby. I need to fuck you.”

Without waiting for my response, his hands pushed under my dress and tugged at the lace thong I was wearing. I felt it being dragged across my knees, while Ben kissed me deeply. His fingers parted me and he pressed one long digit inside. I broke from the kiss to let out a soft moan.

“Fuck. You’re soaking wet, baby.” He brought the finger to his mouth and sucked it greedily, tasting me, and I saw his cock twitch between us the second his mouth closed around his finger. He stroked himself a few times and stepped in between my thighs, spreading me open. Guiding himself to my opening, Ben pressed forward. His mouth crashed against mine in a hungry kiss.

As his length slid inside me exquisitely, slowly, his head dropped back and a low groan slipped from his mouth. The sound was raw with pleasure. It ignited all my senses and I clenched around him. Gripping my hips, Ben slammed into me faster, harder, until the sounds of wet flesh slapping together was amplified in the small room. He fucked me hard and without any mercy, my first orgasm crashing through me in a sudden rush of heat.

“Fuck . . . I forgot how good your pussy is. Fuck. Fuckkk.” Unexpectedly, he pulled out and stroked himself until he came all over my pink flesh with a groan and then pushed back inside of me. The juices he’d marked me with made him slide in and out so deeply it stole my breath.

“Ben.” My hand flattened on his clenched abs. “That’s really deep . . .”

He slowed his pace, dragging himself in and out of me slowly, and bought his lips to mine. “I want you to feel me deep inside you, baby. All of me.”

He pushed all the way in until we were no longer two separate people but one being, sharing eye contact, moving together, breathing in the same air. The rush of sensations was almost too much. I sucked in a lungful of air and held it, releasing it slowly.

“Your pussy belongs to me.”

I dropped my hand, no longer wanting him to hold back. I needed all of him. I loved the way he owned me so completely. Once I gave myself over to the sensations and let go of control, it felt amazing. He was stretching me, filling me completely, but I loved it. “Faster . . . babe . . . I’m almost there . . .” I arched my back, pushing my hips closer to his. My second release blossomed deep inside me. I clutched his shoulders and hung on tight as he pounded into me.

“You’re mine,” he breathed. “Just mine.”

“Always” I whispered.

Ben lifted me from the countertop and I wrapped my legs around his waist. One arm gripped around my bottom and his other hand settled on the back of my neck, pressing my mouth to his. Without breaking our connection, he walked us over to the bed and laid me down gently, momentarily pulling free from my body while he arranged a pillow under my head. I whimpered at the loss of him. I’d already come twice, and him once, but the look in Ben’s eyes told me we were far from done. The hungry, possessive look I saw reflected in his gaze heated my skin and made my pulse jump erratically.

He joined me on the bed, lying over the top of me to cage me in against the mattress. He cradled my face in his hands, lowering his mouth to mine and mumbling soothing words in between sweet kisses. “I’m sorry, baby. I meant to go slow. I wanted to take my time with you and make you feel good.”

He was apologizing? I supposed the bathroom counter wasn’t the most romantic place to have sex, but I wasn’t complaining. Not at all. I felt his erection nudging against my belly and I squirmed underneath him, trying to angle us closer.

Ben brushed stray strands of hair from my forehead and planted a soft kiss there. “I need to make love to you,” he whispered in his deep, sexy voice.

I merely nodded. I hadn’t heard him use those words before. Usually his language was much cruder, favoring the f-word for our physical act. I’d always felt there was more between us, even from the very beginning when I knew I shouldn’t fall for him. I had. Totally and completely, and despite all the things fighting against us, I wanted him. Needed him. This man had consumed me and there was no denying that fact. I climbed on top of him, wanting to show him we were really okay. His body joined mine and the slow, sweet way he made love to me filled my entire heart and soul with so much emotion, I had to hang on to his biceps tightly to keep from combusting in happiness.

I rhythmically rode him, lifting up and gliding down so slowly I could feel each inch of him invade me. Sensations blossomed deep inside me each time he was fully seated. The pace was agonizingly slow, but he let me maintain it. His hands moved to my hips, lifting and lowering me against him, and I loved the feel of his strength, commanding my body to do as he pleased. And he knew exactly what he was doing.

Ben

The sound of someone knocking on the door woke me from a deep slumber. Lifting Emmy from the spot she’d claimed on my chest, I gently placed her beside me and pulled off the blankets and rose to my feet.

Emmy rolled into the spot I’d vacated and pulled my pillow into her arms. She curled her legs up until she was hugging the pillow in a full-body embrace. Damn, that was one lucky pillow. She let out a sleepy little murmur. Just as I considered crawling back into bed, the tapping sound on the door captured my attention again. My brain, not yet fully awake, struggled to make my body leave Emmy’s side, but I pulled on a pair of jeans and went to answer the door.

“Damn, I’m coming,” I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair.

A hotel attendant greeted me then pushed a room service cart through the door and into the living room. “Just sign here, please.” He thrust a slip of paper at me.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t recall ordering anything.” We’d stayed up most of the night talking and having sex, so my head was a little fuzzy this morning, but I didn’t recall phoning for room service.

“No, you didn’t.” He pointed to the paper. “It was ordered by a Miss Fiona Stone. All paid for.”

I signed the receipt and handed it back to him. “Thanks,” I mumbled and watched, confused, as he slipped out the door.

Emmy came padding out of the bedroom a moment later, dressed only in a tank top and a pair of my boxer briefs. I took a moment to just take her in. Slender legs, curvy hips, full breasts, and hair tangled and loose around her shoulders. Mine.

“C’mere, baby.”

She crossed the room on bare feet and wrapped her arms around my waist, nestling in against my chest.

I pulled her close, relishing the feel of her small, soft body pressed against my firm one. “You stole my underwear,” I whispered into her hair.

“Sorry, did you want them back?” she said sweetly, that little southern twang in her voice just barely evident.

I tilted my head down and stole a look. “No, they look better on you.” My hands slid from her waist to her ass, cupping it in my palms and squeezing gently. I felt my girl shiver lightly. “You fill out the back nicely,” I murmured near her ear.

She giggled and it was the sweetest sound, light and carefree. “Yes, but you fill out the front in a way I never will.”

“I sure as fuck hope you never do. I don’t think I’d like you with a dick, baby.”

She laughed again. “What’s all this?” she asked, motioning to the service cart.

“Uh, breakfast, I suppose.”

“How thoughtful.” She kissed my mouth before stepping out of my arms. “I just want to grab my laptop and see if I can connect to the Wi-Fi before we eat.”

I nodded and watched her bend over to retrieve her laptop bag. Her ass looked good enough to fuck. She cleared her throat and my eyes darted up to hers.

“How about you pour me some coffee while I fire this up? There is coffee, right?”

“Uh . . .” I quickly scanned the cart and found a silver carafe of what I presumed was coffee. “Yeah.” I poured two mugs of coffee, added milk, and set them on the round dining table. I made myself busy while Emmy powered on her computer. I transferred the dishes, silverware, and helpings of the food to the table. I poured us each a glass of what appeared to be pineapple juice. “Is it working, babe?” I asked over my shoulder. I knew she was taking her new assistant job seriously. I found her work ethic sexy, though of course I wouldn’t have minded in the least if she treated this trip like a vacation and lay on the beach the entire week. She deserved a break after all the shit I’d put her through recently.

“Yep. I’ve got a signal. And it looks like Fiona sent an email with the details for the shoot tomorrow. It begins on the beach at nine a.m. There’s an attached page of grooming instructions.”

“Yeah? What’s it say?”

She chuckled under her breath. “Wow. There’s an astounding amount of detail on the way your pubic hair should be trimmed. Basically short . . . oh my goodness. Is this serious?” She let out a short laugh.

Honestly, it wasn’t that surprising. I often received specific instructions for shaving my face, chest, and abs. This was a little out of the ordinary but not that unexpected. It was a swimsuit shoot, after all.

“What else does it say?” I asked.

Her eyes had gone wide and she sat silently blinking at the screen. “Fiona’s left a note underneath the instructions.” Her voice was shaky.

“Read it to me.”

Emmy took a deep breath. “See you tomorrow, love. And P.S. I know these instructions won’t pose a hardship for you, considering you’ve always kept yourself nice and neat. Love, Fiona.”

Within seconds, I’d crossed the room and was guiding her away from the computer by the shoulders. “Ignore her. We both know that was a cheap attempt to get a rise out of you. My cock is yours. Just yours. Okay?”

She nodded, her eyes locked on mine.

I leaned in and kissed her softly. “Sit down, baby. Enjoy your coffee.” I pushed the mug toward her and she lowered herself into the chair. “Eat up,” I urged, sitting down across from her. “We have the whole day to play before work begins tomorrow.” I wanted to get her mind off of Fiona’s bitchy message.

“What are we going to do?”

“Anything you want. Snorkeling, scuba-diving, sunning ourselves, napping, hiking, oh, and apparently we need to shave my balls at some point too.”

She giggled. “Ben!”

“What? I’m a rule follower, baby. And you’re my assistant now, so I think you should have to help. Supervise, at least.”

She shook her head, a pretty smile on her mouth. “Thank you for ordering breakfast. This is delicious.” She nibbled on an apricot pastry drizzled in honey. Part of me wanted to keep quiet, to let her assume it was me, but an annoying voice in the back of my head pointed out that Fiona was likely to mention something about sending us breakfast. I needed to prove to Emmy that I could be honest about the big stuff as well as the little things.

“Actually, Fiona had it sent over,” I murmured in between sips of coffee.

Emmy’s eyebrows shot up and she dropped the half-eaten pastry to her plate as if suddenly losing her appetite. She roughly swallowed the bite she’d been chewing, the food visibly being forced down her throat. “Oh.” She rose from the table. “I’m going to shower.”

Shit.

Having lost my appetite as well, I called the concierge and requested that the food be removed right away so it’d be gone before Emmy was out of the shower.

I would have ordered her breakfast and fed it to her in bed if Fiona hadn’t interfered. Christ, what a mess being stuck between these two women.

* * *

When Emmy emerged from the bedroom dressed in a pair of cutoff jean shorts, red tank top, and tan sandals, it seemed her good mood was back. She looked adorable and sexy at the same time. A smile overtook my mouth. “C’mere, pretty.”

She hesitated, blinking at me.

“Emmy.” I held out my hand and she crossed the room and took it. “Are you okay?”

She nodded thoughtfully but didn’t speak.

“Don’t let her take this from us. I was so happy last night and this morning waking up with you.” I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I’m yours, baby. Trust me, okay?”

She nodded again, blinking up at me with unshed tears. I cupped her jaw and angled my mouth to hers. I felt her arms wind around my waist. We fit perfectly together. I just needed to keep reminding her of that. And the only way I seemed to know how to do it was with physical affection. I wasn’t good at pretty words. I was better at fucking and dirty talk.

“As pretty as you look in these little shorts,” my hands slid down the sides of her thighs, “I need these and your panties off.”

Her eyes darted up to mine and she dragged her tongue across her top lip. “I thought we were going out.” Her voice was quiet, timid. I had to show her that she was mine. Desire flared up inside me and I answered it the only way I could.

“Let me fuck you,” I whispered near her ear and felt her shudder.

I quieted her fears about us, about Fiona, the best way I knew how, by clearing her head of all thoughts but one—getting me inside her. I wasn’t sure why, but I loved to hear her beg for my cock to fill her. Watching her come undone was the best fucking sight in the world. And the way she fit around me like a glove was unreal.

When I started pushing her shorts and panties down her hips, Emmy was already squirming for my touch, already making those tiny whimpering noises that I loved.

Emmy

We’d had two rather unproductive days on the island so far, preferring to remain locked away in our room making love rather than facing the world. We’d christened every room in the suite, having loud, sweaty sex. Part of me wanted to stop him, to tell him that he couldn’t chase away our difficulties with sex. Yet, of course, I hadn’t. I’d let him take me. I was too greedy for his touch.

But this morning we were both up and getting ready for Ben’s first photo shoot in Fiji. I gulped down the remainder of my coffee and checked the clock. We had to be down to the beach in twenty minutes. I wanted to get there early to check on everything, though I supposed worrying about the set details was no longer my concern. My only job now was to make sure Ben arrived on time.

I grabbed my camera and packed it into my oversized purse. I planned to take a few behind-the-scenes photos today and post them to Ben’s various social media sites for his fans to enjoy. A pang of sadness welled up inside me at the thought. Millions of women admired this man. Would he ever really be mine?

Dating someone in the public eye was all new for me. Ben had graced the covers of men’s magazines, billboards, and advertisements around the globe. People worldwide had seen his provocative ads, women everywhere had fantasized about this man. And now he was choosing me. It was a lot to take in.

But I was a firsthand witness to the man himself, the actual person behind the glossy magazine pages. I’d seen him at his best, his worst; knew about his many prescription medications, his long-standing affair with his agent. He was known the world over for his physical beauty and stunning physique, but I knew what was in his heart, in his mind. Loving him provoked an achy intensity inside me. I wanted to soothe him, and hide him away from the world. But it was now my job to help promote him.

Realizing we had only fifteen minutes left to go, I pushed away the thoughts. Crossing the room, I tapped on the bathroom door and pushed it open. “Ben?”

“Almost done, babe.” He shut off the water and stepped out the shower, reaching for a towel.

“Holy crap,” I muttered, pressing a hand over my mouth.

“What?” His gaze followed my line of vision south, and he smirked.

He’d shaved.

Everything.

“Nothing,” I murmured. “You just . . . um, look a lot bigger.”

His thick cock hung flaccid down his thigh. And as I watched it, it began to rise.

“Ben! We don’t have time for that. We have to go.”

He chuckled, the rich sound rumbling from his chest. “Then stop looking at my dick and telling me it’s big, sweetheart. Guys tend to like that.” He wrapped the towel around his hips and secured it into place. “You can play with him later, I promise.”

“Just hurry up, I don’t like being late.” I strode from the bathroom and left him alone.

Lord, that man had an insatiable sexual appetite. I was fucked. Literally.

* * *

When we finally made it down to the beach, Fiona was chatting with the photographer, Gentry. A girl was sitting in a makeup chair with her back to me while a makeup artist worked on her. Ben’s coworker today, obviously.

When she turned I instantly recognized her. London. One of Ben’s former girlfriends I’d met last summer in Paris. I hadn’t known that she’d be here. She was clad in a barely-there fire-engine red string bikini so small I could see her ovaries.

When she hopped down from the chair my breathing faltered. She was perfectly tanned and toned with bouncy curls and smoky eye makeup. She looked stunning. A slow smile curled on Fiona’s lips as she watched me look over London.

My heart throbbed in my chest as I watched Ben warmly greet London. Why hadn’t he told me his ex would be here? She pointed at the assortment of briefs he’d be expected to wear and they shared a laugh.

Ben approached Gentry next and shook his hand. They talked for a few minutes then he disappeared inside the onsite trailer to change into his first swimsuit.

I stood there, uselessly digging my toes into the sand, feeling utterly alone and out of place without his presence. There was no way I was talking to Fiona and I was too shy to approach London. I doubted she’d remember me from our one awkward encounter during the industry party in Paris. That was the first night Ben informed me, and the world, that I was his girlfriend.

Several minutes later the door to the trailer opened and Ben stepped out.

Holy Speedo, Batman.

His abs and chest looked amazing but when my gaze traveled lower to the large bulge protruding proudly in his snug briefs, I nearly choked on my own tongue. God, he was delicious. All hardened muscle and masculine beauty wrapped up in one tempting package. I wanted to throw a towel around him and shield him from view. Obviously a ridiculous notion considering what he did for a living.