We Were Here: A New Adult Romance Prequel to Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Stories Book 1) (25 page)

Ben shot me a confused look. “Why are you riling up Selah?” he whispered as she continued her rant.

She accidentally slapped his arm when she brought up the suffragettes and the ERA. “I mean, it’s all unbelievable. In my women’s studies seminar—”

I stopped her before she really blew a gasket. “Okay, thanks for proving my point.”

She harrumphed and mumbled something about patriarchy.

Smiling, I made my next move. “Ben, I’d like to ask you out for tomorrow night.”

“But . . . I’m the guy. I should be—” He stopped himself from going any further. A smile lit up his face and he nodded with realization. I’d outmaneuvered him. Plus, I had a witness to back me up.

“You’re the guy? What do you mean by that? Because you have tender, delicate genitals hanging outside your body you’re better equipped to make decisions?” Selah’s face began to deepen with color. “Don’t make me go all riot grrrl on you.”

Ben slowly backed away from her. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me with him, using me as a human shield. “I don’t even know what a riot girl is, but I’m afraid.”

“You should be, Benton Grant, the second. You and your white patriarchy are falling like Rome.” She jabbed her finger at him. “You’re going down.”

“I think her women’s studies class on the history of feminism is doing strange things to her brain,” I whispered without shifting my focus. I didn’t want to lose sight of Selah until I knew we were out of range in case she decided to karate chop Ben’s oppressive manhood.

Selah stomped away, still talking about feminism and riot girls.

“What was that all about?” he asked once she entered the building.

“Collateral damage.” My eyes tracked Selah’s departure while I fought a smile of triumph.

He spun me to face him. “I would’ve said yes to your proposal. You didn’t have to use Selah as a pawn to ask me out.”

“Would you have? You’ve been acting traditional about everything.”

“I was going to ask you out for Friday night when we saw each other today. You beat me to it.”

“You were?”

Shock flashed across his face. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? Didn’t you like dinner last week?”

“Of course. It was amazing. I’d never eaten to the sounds of live harp music before.”

“The harp was a little much, I admit.”

I pinched the air between my thumb and index finger. “A little.”

“Did you think I didn’t have fun?” Worry furrowed his brow.

“No, it’s not that.”

“What is it?”

I inhaled and then exhaled all my thoughts into one long sentence. “It’s been a week and I’m impatient. The whole flirting thing started months ago, and you’ve only kissed me twice, not complaining about the kisses because they were very nice, amazing, but there have only been two, yet we’ve known each other for ages, and that’s making me impatient for more.”

His lips silenced my rambling. Then his tongue found mine and I forgot what I was trying to say. When his hands wrapped around my braid, and gently tugged, angling my head exactly where he wanted it, I couldn’t have told him my own name because I suddenly had no idea what it was.

Benton Grant had kissed me stupid.

I rubbed myself against him like a cat, complete with a soft purr deep in my throat. My hands roamed over his shoulders, down his arms, and under his jacket. I needed to touch more of him.

His thumb brushed my cheek, grounding me and calming my frenzy. He slowed down the kiss, balancing me upright on my feet before releasing me.

“You should ask me out more often.” He kissed the corner of my mouth.

I let my focus stay on his mouth a moment before meeting his eyes. “What are you doing right now? My roommate is working until seven. I have the space to myself.”

“Oh really?” His cocky grin returned.

I nodded.

“I’d be happy to accept your invitation.” He held out his elbow for us to link arms.

“So formal.” I shifted my bag to my other shoulder and accepted his gesture.

“For some reason, I like being formal and old-fashioned with you.” He gave me a peck on the cheek.

“You know I asked you back to my room to fool around, right?”

“Doesn’t mean I respect you any less.” He stopped and pulled me to face him. “In fact, I like your honesty and directness.” A quick kiss to my lips turned into more when I wrapped my arms around his neck.

Still pressed against him, I whispered, “I’m thinking Jenni needs to find another place to sleep tonight.”

His eyes widened comically and his eyebrows shot north toward his hair. “Okay. Then why are we still wasting time standing out here?”

He took off at a jog in the direction of the dorms, towing me behind by the hand until I found my footing and ran ahead of him.

Before I could make it through the doors, he caught up with me and pinned me to the glass. Laughing, our chests rising and falling, we tried to breathe through our noses as we kissed again. Unfortunately, the need for oxygen won, and I reluctantly pushed him away. Dizziness hit me as the image of him before me blurred.

“Hold on.” I bent at the waist to catch my breath. Placing my hands on my knees, I inhaled and counted to ten. After the world stopped spinning, my eyes focused again.

Ben’s jeans were barely constraining his very obvious arousal mere inches from my face.

“Get a room,” someone yelled. A few yards away on the path, some pimply faced hippie bounced a hacky sack on his foot. In his Grateful Dead tie-dyed shirt, he looked like the ultimate college cliché.

“Thanks for the sage advice.” Ben waved at him with a sarcastic grin. “Shall we?”

If kissing him made me stupid and almost pass out, I wasn’t prepared for more. All my confidence disappeared as we climbed the stairs to my room. At my door, I fumbled and dropped my keys, my fingers shaking.

He picked up my key ring and stuck the right one in the lock, but didn’t turn it.

“Jo?”

I met his concerned eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything. Remember in the ER when I said we could go as fast or slow as you wanted? I meant it. That’s why I haven’t done more than kiss you goodnight. You’re the one in control here.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed him. “You’re not going to do the classic guy move and shove my hand on your crotch or push my head down to let me know you want a blow job?” I wished I were kidding about those moves. Those were two of my perfect-on-paper high school boyfriend’s favorites.

“What? No! I wouldn’t force you.” His eyebrows lifted again with shock. “Please tell me no guy has ever done that to you.”

Pressing my lips together, I nodded.

“I knew you hadn’t been with the right kind of guy. We’re not all cavemen who don’t have the language skills to ask for what we want. Or even more important, ask what you want.”

No guy—not the high school boyfriend, not the random guys I’d dated freshman year—had ever asked me what I wanted. If they weren’t completely consumed with their boners, they might have responded to a subtle shift, a hand placed in the right spot, a change in pressure or angle guided by me. Sadly, directions didn’t work for most of them.

Ben touched my face and traced from my temple to my jaw. “What do you want, Jo?”

“You. I only want you.” I turned the key in the lock and the door opened.

“American Girl” ~ Tom Petty

I FLIPPED ON
my desk lamp instead of the awful overhead fluorescent. If I had candles, I would have lit them.

My palms felt clammy and my heart flew around in my chest. Rubbing my hands on my jeans, I talked myself into calming down.

I wasn’t a virgin, but I didn’t have a lot of experience. Only my high school boyfriend really. The other semi-sexual encounters had always ended before the full shebang. Literally.

Ben wrapped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder. I swore he sniffed my hair.

“You always smell like fresh flowers.”

“I bathe regularly and use perfume?” It came out like a question.

He chuckled and kissed the little bump on the top of my shoulder. “I wasn’t questioning your hygiene. It’s not perfume. It’s you.”

He buried his face in my neck. This time I knew he sniffed me. I tilted my head to give him more access. Not knowing what to do with my hands, I held onto his forearms. His front pressed against my back from thighs to shoulders. Everything made contact.

I shifted and deliberately arched back into him. I’d caught a glimpse outside the building, but I wanted to feel all of him.

Sensing my goal, he spun me around and backed me up until my calves hit my mattress. I tumbled onto the bed and he followed, rolling onto his side next to me on the twin.

He ran his fingers through my hair, spreading it out on the pillow. “You’re beautiful.”

I stared into his eyes, seeing the honesty behind his words. Lifting my hand, I stroked his face. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

“Ever?” His smile lit up his face.

My hand paused at his jaw. “Okay. Not ever. In person.”

“Ouch. You wound my delicate male ego.” He held his other hand over his heart. As if my words had stabbed him, he flopped dramatically onto his back. Lying partially across me, his weight pinned my arm beneath him.

“Sorry, but have you seen River Phoenix? Or John F. Kennedy, Jr.?”

“Those two are my competition? An actor and a Kennedy heir? Both are liberal democrats.” He faked his disgust well.

“On looks only. Although if John-John called, I might switch parties.” I poked his side and he shifted, kneeling to keep his weight off of me.

“You love to rile me up, don’t you?” He nipped my exposed collarbone, finally pressing his hips to mine. Unfortunately, as much as I liked to provoke him, he enjoyed teasing me more. Lifting back on his knees, he straddled my thighs.

I pretended to pout.

He ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “Beautiful. I can’t believe you agreed to go out with me, let alone the fact you’re here with me now.”

My face heated under his intense stare. I’d never felt as cherished as I did with him. His warm brown eyes held emotion we hadn’t spoken out loud or dared to hint at.

Afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I spoke, I pulled him down to me, kissing him.

In response, he was everywhere at once. His hands unbuttoned my shirt, exposing my pink lace bra. He traced the lace with a knuckle before reverently kissing the small swell of my breast.

I tugged at his rugby shirt, yanking it up his back. He took over removing it, leaving his torso bare.

He shoved my shirt down and off my arms. In only our jeans, we looked like a Calvin Klein ad.

My palm skimmed his denim, brushing against the hardness beneath his fly. He moved my hand out of the way and undid his buttons, revealing plaid boxers.

“My turn.” With a single finger he flicked the top button and then pulled the zipper on my jeans.

I shimmied out of them.

“So beautiful.” His mouth kissed whatever exposed skin he encountered next.

My shoulder.

My navel.

My thigh.

The inside of my knee.

The curve of my calf muscle.

The delicate bones of my ankle.

Then he retraced his path back up my body, finding new places to explore.