Seven Years of Bad Luck (22 page)

“God, I love this tight pussy of yours,” he growled through gritted teeth. He was not gentle or sweet. He drove into me relentlessly. He grunted and groaned as he pulled my hair and plundered my neck and mouth. He took me over as if I belonged to him and what we were doing was as natural as breathing. I was enjoying every damned second of it. He kept me pinned to the wall as one hand reached between our connected bodies and began rubbing small enticing circles around my clit. My body begged for release, and the moment that recognizable tightening gripped my insides, he eased back on my clit allowing my impending climax to slip away. He kept up his pace and thrust hard into me while building my climax and letting it slip away every time. I was getting emotional in my desperation for release.

“Go ahead. Get mad.” He whispered breathlessly in my ear.

“Damn it, Ben!” I whimpered.

“Is that all you got, baby?” he questioned in a low husky taunting voice. Tears threatened to form in my eyes.

“Fuck you!” I felt his mouth turn up into a grin.

“No, baby, I’m fucking you,” he growled in my ear. His thrusts became even harder and deeper, and I almost instantly came apart between his hard body and the wall. Blood rushed to my head leaving me with colorful spotty vision as my body rode an epic wave of climactic pleasure. The moment my orgasm caused the walls of my channel to clench around his cock, he shuddered over and over and spilled into me. He brought us to his bed and laid me back slowly as he drew himself out of me. He lay across me while he worked at catching his breath. He lifted his head to look at me through heavy, sated eyes.

“Come on. Bath.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. I don’t have any other clothes. My panties are trash thanks to you.”

He laughed. “You have clothes.” I was confused.

What? I didn’t bring a bag.

He read the look on my face before I could speak. “I took the liberty of getting you a few things. I anticipated you refusing to bring a bag to my house, so I remedied the problem. I told you no fighting this, Kathleen,” he warned.

Did you now, Mr. Controlling, bossy sex god?

He pulled me to stand and held me by the shoulders until I was steady on my feet. He led me to the master bathroom which was elegant and fit for a king. It was all marble, granite, and brushed nickel. The walls were a cool blue with a tray ceiling trimmed in white to punctuate the design. The focal point of the open concept bathroom was absolutely the largest white claw-foot bathtub I had ever laid eyes on. I was unaware that they were even made that large. The whole room had a very Victorian feel to it. All the palest of blue with white trim, the fixtures included a double vanity with oversized water basins, gorgeous light fixtures, an enormous mirror, and a standalone shower big enough to accommodate at least six adults. There was also a bidet, of all things. I was quick to casually place my fingers to my mouth to stifle my growing amusement at the mental visual of Ben straddling a bidet to tidy himself.

My private musings came to a halt when Ben tugged me to the monstrous claw tub and began adjusting the water temperature. Water poured from a uniquely designed faucet that rose from the floor right in front of the tub, reminding me of a water fountain. There were two handles for hot and cold water and there was a polished shower head attached by a hose to the fixture. It sat in a holster-type stand and had a valve to operate it at the junction where the hose met the main spigot. Ben held my fingers lightly while he sat on the edge of the tub adjusting the water and pouring in bath oil that filled my nose with the smell of something I was unable to name. It was slightly minty and lightly floral.

“What’s that scent?”

Ben stood and pulled me close to him. He ran hands down my back. “It’s jasmine and mint oil. Do you like it?”

My breathing became shallow as his hands roamed freely over my body.

“Yes,” I murmured, barely loud enough for him to hear. He gripped the hem of my dress and swiftly pulled it over my head, then made quick work of stripping me from my bra, tattered panties, and shoes. I stood before him wearing only a light blush across my skin. He removed his own clothing while I looked on, getting more aroused by the second. He firmly gripped my hand while I stepped into the comforting warm water. He followed me in and sat across from me.

“Ahh.” My eyes closed. I eased back, allowing the intoxicating scent of the oil to envelope me as I sank lower into the huge tub.

“Feel good, baby?”

“Mhmm,” I moaned when his hands found one of my feet and he began massaging. I was relaxed in Ben’s bathtub with his hands massaging my feet and calves. I felt so at ease there with him. It was an odd thing, considering how much he rattled me on a daily basis. My emotions were always all over the place when it came to Ben.

But in that moment, in his bathtub with him massaging me, I was tranquil. All thoughts of inadequacy, regret, sadness, anger, and anxiety left me. It was only the two of us and the extreme magnetism that pulled us together. There was no escaping whatever it was that was between us, and in that moment with him, I didn’t want to escape it. I didn’t want to deny it. I didn’t want to deny him.

In reality, I wanted nothing more than to be his. I felt safe with him. My eyes fluttered open when I felt Ben shift in the water. He spread my legs and pulled me to him so I was straddling him on his side of the bathtub.

He placed a soft kiss on my lips and gazed at me. “Tell me what you are thinking, Kathleen.” His voice was a soft whisper against my lips.

“I was just thinking that I could get used to long hot baths complete with massages after hot sex with the handsome, successful, charming Benjamin Chase.” My sweet smile turned slightly devilish.

“A man can hope,” he muttered, speaking mostly to himself, I surmised. Little alarm bells started sounding loudly inside me. My body stiffened fractionally in his arms, and just like that, the flip was switched back to closed off from open and tranquil. The emotional rollercoaster was exhausting.

“I, um, why don’t we get out now? The water is cooling, and I’m all pruned.” I held my hand in front of his face so he could see the wrinkles on my finger tips. He held my hand in his and kissed each finger tip softly while keeping his eyes on mine. I could tell that he saw through me. He knew I was allowing my past to get the best of me as always.

“You have nothing to worry about.”

I snickered sarcastically. “No, Ben. I have plenty to worry about in my life.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” he said firmly.

I nodded and looked down at my hands swirling in the water absentmindedly. “Well, then what is it you meant?”

He nudged my chin upward with his gentle touch. “Look at me. You know what I mean, Kathleen. You are so damn scared of feeling this thing between us. You’re scared, but you don’t have to be. Not with me.”

No, I’m positive I have good reason to be scared with you. We could rip each other apart.
His voice was velvety smooth in my ear. I wanted to believe that he and I could somehow go with the natural flow of things between us, but I knew better. I had too much baggage. Too many scars. Seven long, unforgiving years’ worth.

“Ben, listen, I don’t know what this is between us, but I can’t give more than I am already giving. This thing needs to stay physical. I can’t afford any emotional connection between us. Besides, getting emotionally involved with you is almost certainly going to cost me my job.”

“Fine, we will do this your way. For now.”

His words sent a chill down my spine. I couldn’t be sure if they were a threat, a promise or both. Either way, one thing was certain: Ben had me in his grip, and I was in for the most exciting, heartbreaking, amazing, turbulent ride of my life. I just didn’t know it yet.

“Come with me.” Ben said warily. He enfolded my hand in his and led me through his house to the one mysterious door that he skipped over during the tour of his home. He paused at the door and looked to me. I smiled marginally in an attempt to ease his obvious anxiety.

Benjamin Chase nervous? This could be bad.

He turned the door knob and led me into the dimly lit room. I stifled my gasp the best I could. “Ben, this… this is amazing,” I whispered to him as he squeezed my hand in his. “Photography, huh?” I looked to him, and he shrugged bashfully.

“I was hoping that if I open myself to you, you’ll return the favor.” There was a hidden plea in his voice, and my heart melted into a gooey puddle in my chest.

Oh, Ben.

“My grandfather bought me a camera when I was a kid, and I fell in love with all things photography.”

“I can see that.” I grazed through the large cool space. The room was filled with all things photography. It was clear that this was his hobby. His passion. There were shelves scattered throughout the space that displayed cameras of all types. Old and new. I imagined that some of the older ones were antique and likely worth quite a bit. The walls were riddled with photos of all sizes. Some were in color. Some were in black and white. But all of them were landscapes. Every single one was some type of transient moment that Ben obviously knew how to capture. I was spellbound by his work.

He stood in the middle of the room silently watching me wander through the room that housed his passion, taking in his amazing work. I paused.

“The photo above your fireplace. You did that,” I said with my back to him.

“Yes.”

“It’s enchanting. I wish I could have been there with you.” Words fell from my lips, uninhibited by my fears. Ben crossed the room and pressed his front to my back as his arms coiled around me. He leaned in close to my ear.

“I wish you had been with me, too.” I turned in his arms to face him.

“All of this is amazing Ben.”

He smiled marginally and shrugged.

“Where were all of these taken?” I asked while motioning my arms outward.

“Mostly all over California. It’s really all I did in my spare time while I was at Stanford. I use to drive all over until something drew me in. No one except Trev knows about it.” His voice sounded a bit defeated, and I felt sorry for him.

“Why wouldn’t you share this with everyone? You’re talented. These photos are amazing. This room is amazing. It’s a gallery in its own right.”

“I just don’t show my photos to anyone. I have enough to deal with. My family expects a lot of me, and I intend to live up to those expectations. Chasing some crazy dream of being a photographer is not in the cards for me.” With that explanation, his arms fell from me, and he turned away. He was putting up a wall of defense to dissuade me from pushing the issue and perhaps warn me?

Fine, we will do this your way. For now
.

There would be no way I could let this go. It was obvious that he loved photography, but refused to pursue it or even share with others because of his reputation and obligations. I had to find a way to convince him that he could fit in his hobby and his career, and no one would think less of him for being so artistic. He could have been a circus clown, and it would not change how much of a courtroom shark he was. I pulled him back to me by his forearm. He wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Well, thank you for sharing with me. I love it.” My words were honest, and I hoped he took them to heart.

For the remainder of the day, we spent quiet time together, most of which was enjoyed in Ben’s bed. He was a magnificent lover, and I simply could not get enough of him. His blue-green eyes blazed through my body any time they landed on me. His scent was intoxicating when he came near me, and his skin was warm and consuming when he touched me. I was fully and irrevocably addicted to all things Benjamin Chase.

Monday, July, 1st, 2013. Day Forty since I started at the firm.

I managed to convince Ben to take me home the night before. He didn’t fight me much on the issue, largely due to the fact that I didn’t ask. I flat out insisted on going home to smooth things over with Cheyenne. Allowing any issues between us to simmer didn’t sit well with me. I came home to a grumpy best friend, but managed to cheer her up with an offering of cheesecake and her favorite wine. I apologized and promised not to push, pry, or meddle. She smiled with a mouth full of cheesecake, signaling the all clear; a truce was formed. I would have bought a case of those cheesecakes, stock in the wine, and apologized until I was blue in the face as long as I got to see the tension slip from her features and a bright smile take its place. All was well once again on the home front.