Rebel Hearts: Outside The Lines Part 8

"That doesn't matter," he says. "I didn't know you then. And I like the way you look now. A lot."

I can't help the smile that pulls up on my lips. "Yeah, it's not so bad," I say back. The waiter brings us the check; Ben grabs it before I can even look at it and pays, leaving a rather large tip.

I waited tables in college. Ben just earned major bonus points from me.

He takes my hand when we leave the restaurant. The night is still warm, and a light breeze rustles my hair. Stars do their best to s.h.i.+ne above us, despite the light pollution. It's perfect.

"I don't know about you," Ben says, "but I'm not ready not to call this a night yet."

"I'm not ready either."

Hand in hand, we slowly walk to his car. He opens the door for me again, then gets in the driver's seat. "What do you want to do?" he asks as he pushes the start b.u.t.ton. "We could get drinks at Stacks."

That's another place I'd never been but had heard of. Stacks is an upscale bar that caters to white-collar businessmen. So not my thing.

My nose wrinkles and Ben laughs. "You have another idea?"

"It's so nice outside. We could ... uh ... go mini golfing and ride go-karts," I blurt, saying the first thing that comes to mind. Plus I rock mini-golf.

Ben's face goes slack and I'm sure he's thinking that's the stupidest thing in the entire f.u.c.king world to suggest we do on a first date. We're adults, after all. He puts his hands on the steering wheel. "That sounds awesome," he says and the smile returns to his face.

I sit back in the seat, grinning ear to ear.

"You're cheating!" Ben laughs after I get my third hole-in-one. "I don't know how, but you're cheating!" He sets his beer down on the bricks that outline the eighth hole and drops his ball, using his foot to line it up with the hole.

I grab my ball and hop off the AstroTurf, pia colada slos.h.i.+ng down my hand. "Yes, cheating with my telekinetic powers," I laugh back.

Ben hits the ball. It bounces off the side of the little brick path, rolls halfway up the slopped course, and comes back down. We both laugh. It takes him five more attempts before we can move on.

"I didn't know these places served booze," Ben says, grabbing his beer. "Well, the last time I was at one, I wasn't old enough to drink."

"I a.s.sume they started doing it for the parents who come with small children," I say. "You know, the ones that take even longer than you. They have to drink to keep their sanity."

He takes my arm as we walk across a wooden planked bridge. It's not the easiest thing to do in heels.

"You're probably right."

We stop at the next hole, and I step aside. "Go ahead. Let's see if you can get it in the hole on your first try."

Ben turns to me, a devilish glint in his eyes. "I always get it in the first try."

Oh boy.

I open my mouth, wanting to say something s.e.xy and witty back to him. But only a garbled, "I bet" comes out. He flashes me his bedroom eyes and sets the ball down.

I stare at his tight a.s.s, thinking of it sans clothing with my nails digging into his flesh as he goes to town, pumping and thrusting into me. I get hit with a hot flash, and I know it's not from my oncoming period.

I take a big gulp of my drink and shake my head. A group of teenagers shriek and laugh across the course. It's a group of three couples, and they are all over each other in a typical juvenile public display of affection.

"Young love," Ben muses, looking up. "They don't know how easy they have it."

"No bills, no jobs, just homework and parents to deal with," I say. "But still, I'd never go back to high school if you paid me." Unless I was undercover, like in a movie. Then maybe I'll consider it. Maybe.

Ben's ball rolls into the little white hole next to a fake pond filled with water so sc.u.mmy the fountain is clogged and just spitting up bubbles instead of spraying the water into the air.

"You really hated it that much?" He steps off the course.

I drop my ball, hit, and miss. It goes into the water. I grimace and walk up to get it, using my purple golf club to pull it from the water. "I'd never go back, if that tells you anything," I say. "But it was years ago. I'm over it."

"I loved high school," he admits and it doesn't surprise me. He's always been good looking, I can tell, and I'm sure he's always been athletic and talented too. "But I wouldn't go back either. College, yes."

"Oh me too," I say. I'd go back for a do-over. I f.u.c.ked up big time in college. "That was fun."

I get a hole-in-two and Ben and I exchange party stories as we finish the course. I win, by a lot, but I stopped keeping score after the fourth hole and it became apparent I'd dominate.

"Are you up for go-karts?" I ask Ben when we turn in our golf clubs and b.a.l.l.s. I finish my pia colada and toss the plastic cup in the recycling bin next to the trash.

"If it involves you, I'm up for anything," he says and I can't help but wonder if the "up" reference has to do with his p.e.n.i.s.

I'm so f.u.c.king mature, I know.

"Let's see if your Mario Kart skills carry over into the real world," he teases and buys us tickets. There's not many people left this late, and the park closes in twenty minutes. It's more than enough time. We get into our little cars and the attendant comes over to check our seat belts. Ben revs his engine, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

"You're going down," he says. Another s.e.xual reference? Gah, I need to stop.

"So are you," I threaten and rev my own engine, getting a stern look from the man in charge. Mine was a s.e.xual reference, by the way. I love a man who goes down on a woman.

The green light flashes and we take off, pa.s.sing the three other people on the course-who are all twelve years old or younger. Ben jerks his wheel, slamming into me. My car shutters and hits the wall, bouncing off the rubber tires lining it.

I laugh and hit him back but he swerves out of the way just in time. We fly down a hill and my kart gains enough speed to pa.s.s him. He catches up quickly and rams into me again, causing me to spin out and get stuck.

"Hah!" he calls out, smiling as he goes on. I have to wait for the stupid attendant to come over and turn the car around. Seriously, why isn't there reverse on these things? I'm off again, laughing when one of the kids. .h.i.ts Ben's kart, slowing him down enough for me to pa.s.s.

"That's karma for you!" I shout as I fly by. Ben's on the go again, his kart picking up speed, and he T-bones me. We both spin out, laughing. The attendant comes over, muttering about how this "isn't b.u.mper cars" and turns us both back around. We have one lap left, and Ben gets ahead by just a few feet. He wins, and waits for me at the finish line.

He hops out of his kart and comes over to me, offering me a hand. I climb out, a bit unsteady on my Harry Potter heels, and I stumble. He catches me, hands closing on my waist, and he holds me a moment longer than necessary, not letting go even after I get my balance back.

I feel his muscles through his clothes, smell his cologne, sense the warmth of his skin. I s.h.i.+ver. He turns, letting one hand drop to his side. The other stays on my waist. Once we're back on the sidewalk, heading to the parking lot, his slides his hand down to the curve in my hip. Cameron's words about wearing Spanx come back to haunt me, and I hope and pray Ben either doesn't notice or doesn't mind the extra fat I have sitting on my hips, stored there and waiting for me to go into hibernation or something.

His fingers press into my flesh and I'm suddenly so hot between my legs. I hook my arm around him and rest my head on his shoulder.

"Thanks," he says when we get in the car. "I haven't had fun like that in, f.u.c.k, too long."

"You're welcome," I reply and more of Cameron's words come back, worse than haunting. It's full-on demonic possession and I'm internally panicking that this "fun date" has put me even more into the friend-zone. What was I thinking? I should have played off the smart, s.e.xy girl Ben thinks I am instead of letting my inner dork come out and beat him badly in mini golf.

I bite my lip and pick my purse up from the floor of the car. On auto pilot, I grab my phone and see I have a missed call from my brother followed by two texts. I never replied to his question about having a plus (or minus) one for the wedding. I have another "good luck!" text from Erin that makes me smile. I love that girl. I put my phone down and fret over being labeled as one of the guys the rest of the way back to my house.

Ben glances at me from time to time, the happiness in his eyes turning to confusion by the time we pull into the driveway. I'm about to get out and walk myself up to the door, because at this point I've convinced myself nothing more is happening. I'm such a good self-cheerleader, I know.

Ben beats me to it. He cuts the engine and gets out, rus.h.i.+ng around to get the door for me. He takes my hand and slowly laces our fingers.

"Do you want to come inside?" I ask. "I have wine."

He pulls me to him and my body crushes against his. The heat is back between my legs and my body longs to feel more. "Yeah, I want to come inside."

"Good," I blurt.

He chuckles. "You sound surprised."

"No, I'm not, I'm just, uh, uh, glad because I want you to come in too in case, uh, in case you want to, and we, uh, can play games or something," I stammer and my cheeks are suddenly as hot as my lady bits.

But not in a good way.

Thank the f.u.c.king lord it's too dark out here to see the blus.h.i.+ng. I need to learn to stop talking. Seriously. I say the dumbest things when I'm nervous. Ben's fingers inch along my back, until the tips are just under the waist of my jeans.

"I'd like to play games with you," he tells me, voice deep and commanding. My head goes up on its own accord, and his lips are just inches from mine. He moves a hand up, cupping my cheek, then brings me to him as he parts his lips.

I'm suddenly nervous and forget how to kiss. Do I close my eyes? Open my mouth now or later? And my hands? What the f.u.c.k do I do with my hands?

His soft, full lips crash against mine and everything falls into place.

I hold onto his waist, sliding my hands up his back. His tongue opens my mouth and slips inside, causing my knees to weaken as I hold tighter to him. The kiss intensifies and he pushes me against the car before finally breaking away, tipping his head so his lips brush against my ear.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted to f.u.c.k you all night," he whispers.

For once, I don't speak, don't say something to kill the mood. I put my hands on his face, turn his head back to mine, and kiss him again. I take his hand and lead him to the house, desperately feeling around in my oversized bag for my house keys.

Bugs swarm around the porch light. I swat them away and finally get the d.a.m.n key. My hands are trembling as I push it into the lock. I turn the key, madly opening the door. We step inside and I throw my purse onto the ground. Ser Pounce hisses at Ben from the couch.

That's right. Be jealous. Someone else is sleeping in my bed tonight. Maybe. Probably? We'll end up in bed, I'm sure. But I don't think much sleeping is going to happen.

The heat of the moment has cooled down a bit. I swallow, take my shoes off, and look at Ben with wide eyes, not sure what to do now. He steps out of his shoes and reaches for me, hands sliding around my waist and under my s.h.i.+rt.

My heart lurches in my chest. He draws me in until my b.r.e.a.s.t.s smash into his firm chest. He's looking right into my eyes, confident, calm, so d.a.m.n sure of himself and what he's going to do next.

He brushes my hair back and kisses me softly, pulling back and moving his lips to my neck. A s.h.i.+ver runs through me, and I'm so f.u.c.king wet. I want him now. Like now now.

My breath leaves me and he takes a step forward, and now I'm pressed between Ben's body and the wall. In the heels, I'm close to his height. Without them, I can feel his c.o.c.k harden against my stomach.

He breaks away and rests his forehead against mine. "Want that gla.s.s of wine?" he asks.

I want a tall gla.s.s of you.

I nod, but don't move. Ben is still holding me against the wall, after all. "If you do," I pant. He grinds his hips into mine and sucks at the skin on my neck. I run my hands through his hair and gasp when his teeth clip me.

f.u.c.k the wine. Actually, f.u.c.k Ben. That's what I want to do. I want to f.u.c.k him. My hands drop to his waist and I'm untucking his s.h.i.+rt from his pants without really knowing what I'm doing. His mouth is on mine again and his hands go from my waist to my b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

I unbuckle his belt next and pull it through the loops, letting it fall to the floor. My hand finds its way to his thigh and runs up it, feeling his erection through his pants. His tongue pushes into mine and he can't kiss me hard enough. I move my hands up to his chest and give him a gentle shove. He takes a step back, not letting me go, and stumbles over our discarded shoes. We take another step back then pause to grope each other.

"Wine?" I say between kisses.

"Later," he growls. "I f.u.c.king want you."

Holy s.h.i.+t. "Okay," I say and am too swept up in the moment to get embarra.s.sed. I take his hand and turn, leading him into my room. As soon as I'm through the door, Ben's arms wrap around my waist. He lifts me up, and my legs go around him. He takes a few steps to the bed then tosses me down and advances, pinning me to the mattress with his body.

I'm so hot for him I can hardly stand it. He kisses me, slowly trailing his mouth down my neck, kissing my collarbone. He sits up just enough to grab the hem of my top. I push up and hold my arms above my head. He pulls it off and lets it drop on the floor next to us.

He looks at me, and all I can think is how I ate too much at dinner. Booze makes me bloat. These pants are too tight along my waist and my pus.h.i.+n' for the cus.h.i.+n' spills out too much. I should have worn the mother-effing Spanx.

He lets out a moan. "f.u.c.k, you're beautiful."

I'm so glad I don't have the stupid Spanx on. It's awkward to take them off, anyway.

"You really think so?" I blurt and he nods. "Tell me again."

His eyes glimmer and I realize he thinks I'm attempting to dirty talk and dominate, not seeking rea.s.surance.

Desire burns in his eyes, and he looks at me like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world. "You're a f.u.c.king knock-out." He buries his head between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, sucking and kissing. He reaches behind me and unhooks my bra with one hand, faster than I can unhook it myself and I wear the d.a.m.n thing every day. Well, nearly every day.

I roll the straps down my arms. Ben moves it out of the way, grinding his c.o.c.k into me as he gazes at my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He groans and dives down, taking one in his mouth, tongue circling my erect nipple. I toss my head back and rake my fingers through his hair. I've never gotten off on nipple stimulation. Really, it did nothing for me.

Until now.

My whole body is alive, humming with pleasure of what's to come. It's going to be f.u.c.king epic, I know it.

I don't even realize he's unb.u.t.toned my jeans until he starts to pull them down. I lift my hips to allow them to come free, bending my knees and pulling my legs out. The jeans join my s.h.i.+rt and bra on the floor.

I'm laying here in just dark-purple panties, and Ben is fully clothed. This isn't right. I put my hands on the side of his face and gently push him off of me.

"Something's wrong," I say.

Is that disappointment that flashes through his eyes? "What's wrong?"

"You still have your clothes on."

The disappointment quickly transforms into l.u.s.t, and he gives me that grin, the famous grin I'm now forever going to a.s.sociate as the "I'm going to f.u.c.k your brains out and make it impossible for you to walk in the morning" grin. He sits up and unb.u.t.tons his s.h.i.+rt. I watch like he's my own personal Magic Mike warming up before a show. Slowly, he peels his s.h.i.+rt back.

Holy s.e.x on a stick.

Black tattoos cross his chest, going over his shoulders and down his biceps. It's too dark to discern exactly what they are, but I'm able to make out a skull and a few j.a.panese characters. He's muscular, with abs I'd lick chocolate-f.u.c.k, I'd even lick ranch dressing off those babies-and biceps too big for me to come close to wrapping my hands around.

My heart is pounding, blood rus.h.i.+ng through me. I've never wanted anyone so badly before in my life. I lick my lips and unb.u.t.ton his pants. The force of his erection pushes the zipper down, and the tip of his d.i.c.k is sticking out the top of his black boxers. It's glistening and wet and abso-f.u.c.king-lutely perfect. The only thing that could make it better is it being inside me.

He's back on me, putting himself between my spread legs, kissing me like I'm the last woman on earth and his life depends on it. I'm so hot, so wound up that I feel like I might come just from him brus.h.i.+ng against my c.l.i.t through my panties.

He moves slightly to the side and hooks my leg over his, holding onto my thigh. We kiss for another moment and then he breaks away, moving down. His lips trail from my neck to my stomach. Holy f.u.c.king lord. He's going to- I cry out when his fingers sweep against me. The muscles in my thighs tighten when he pulls the panties off. I twist the comforter in my hands, opening my eyes to watch him go to town.