Crossing Hathaway (18 page)

“Uh…” I scratched my head. Unable to reengage my brain, I slid forward in my chair and kept my gaze on Cam. “Nothing comes to mind, but can I think about it and get back to you?”

His eyebrows shot up.

“That will be fine, Mr. Jones.” Ben’s smooth voice wrapped around me like a silk scarf. “Now, I need a word with Ms. Ross. I expect the report by tomorrow morning.”

Cam stood, looking back and forth between Ben and me. “Sure thing, Mr. Hathaway.” He glared a warning at me before rushing to the door.

The instant the door clicked shut, Ben slid forward, grabbed me by the wrist, and pulled me onto the sofa with him.

“What are you doing?” Pinning him with my glare, I wiggled free and stood. “That was painful, bringing me here with Cam. I should walk out right now.” I crossed my arms.

Ben snickered and came to stand in front of me. “I just couldn’t help it. You’re very cute when you squirm.”

A mutinous grin crept up on me. I shoved him away with my palm to his chest. “Ass.”

He grabbed my wrist and brought my fingers to his lips, drawing one into his mouth.

I held my breath while he wrapped his tongue around my digit and sucked. “I’m still working, Ben. Please don’t start something we can’t finish now.”

While nuzzling my ear, his strong arms looped around my waist and pulled me against him. His stiff cock pressed against my crotch. “Make an exception, just this once.” His sweet breath fanned across my lips before they pressed against mine.

My need swelled as my conscience screamed at me. “Maybe I could stay late today and make up the time?”

“Done.”

Damn, I was easy. A growl burned in my throat as I pushed Ben back down on the sofa. Smiling at him, I unbuttoned my dress shirt slowly, passing my tongue across my top lip.

He squirmed, his pants straining to contain him. I shrugged out of the cotton and tossed it aside, my royal blue bra standing out against my pale skin. Before unbuckling my belt, I turned my back to him, unzipped and shimmied the fabric down my thighs to expose the matching blue thong I’d worn that day.

His arms came from behind, startling a squeal from me. Insistent hands pulled up my bra and cupped my breasts, kneading, pinching. God, that was good! His kisses smoldered on my throat, inducing a sigh to rise from my toes. He grabbed my arm to turn me, but I took his hand and led him around to the back of the sofa.

His dark snicker tickled my spine. “What are you up to, Ms. Ross?”

I shoved the panties down my legs and kicked them away, making sure he got a big ole eyeful, turned and gripped the leather upholstery. “Shut up and fuck me, Mr. Hathaway.”

A zip preceded the swish of fabric. The crinkling of a condom wrapper filled the heavy silence, and he moved away for an agonizing moment. One hand gripped my hip and the other guided the smooth head of his cock along my slick crevice. With a grunt, he stabbed into me, glorious pleasure invading me like a drug-induced dream. His fingers reached around and stroked my swollen nub, and his other hand slid up my chest while he leaned down and pressed his against my back.

Our grunts and moans rose and fell in time with Ben’s vigorous thrusts. I gripped the leather an instant before my orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, tearing a scream from my throat. My sheath contracted around him, bringing his conclusion a moment later with a low, throaty growl.

We slid down to the floor, and I lay in the crook of his arm. My new favorite place to be. “Holy hell,” I said between panted breaths. “You really know how to throw a budget meeting.”

He uttered a lazy chuckle, his free hand rising with languid movements, and shoved sweaty hair from his forehead. “Holy heaven would work too. Though with that naughty look in your eyes earlier, maybe not.”

I laughed, the action adding to the cloud of euphoria I floated on. My words came out muffled with my face pressed against his throat. “We should go out on a date tonight, dinner, maybe a movie.”

Ben’s muscles hardened to stone beneath me.

Propped on my elbow, I looked down at him, but he averted his eyes. “What did I say? You’re stiff as a board.”

After a moment, he met my gaze, his body softening. “I’d rather cook for you and watch a movie here, if it’s all the same to you.”

An idea assembled in the face of his utter fear. “Ben, are you agoraphobic?”

Head cocked in thought, he sat up and stared out the window. “I’ve never considered it before. I always thought I was just…” With a frown, he stood and gathered his clothes.

“You’re not a coward, Ben Hathaway, if that’s what you were going to say.” My tone came out sharper than I meant it to. “If you do have a fear of crowds, then I know it can be crippling.” I climbed to my feet and kissed the back of his shoulder. “Maybe you should talk to someone about it, find out if staying in is just a habit or if you really do have a phobia. Which is nothing to be ashamed of, if you do. Lots of people have them. I hate spiders, and usually run screaming like a lunatic when I see one.”

Ben hesitated for a moment before winding his arms around my waist. “What would I do without you?”

“Uh…” My snickers wouldn’t be contained. “Wear out your hands and go back to tormenting lowly employees?”

“I’m serious.” He spun and brushed the backs of his fingers along my temple. “You make me feel alive again.”

My eyes stung. I blinked and moved away to gather my clothes. “Don’t you dare make me cry, Ben. I mean it.”

His laughter induced my own. “My apologies. But I still meant what I said.”

As I dressed, I thought about my own cowardice. I’d had my birth mother’s letter for days and it still sat unopened on my dresser at home. If I expected him to be brave, maybe I could be brave too.

Early Tuesday morning I stood outside Ben’s office with my birth mother’s letter clutched in my fingers. My nerve weakened every second my hand hovered above the door handle. “God, this is stupid.” Scowling, I went inside.

Ben appeared at the top of the stairs, wiping his hands on a towel. His eyes widened and he sped down the stairs. “Evangeline. What’s happened?”

“Nothing, I just…” My gaze darted to my hand.

“What are you holding?” His voice softened as he strode closer. “Your hand is shaking.”

“I’ve had this letter from my birth mother for a week now and I’m too much of a coward to read it. I thought—I wondered if…” Cold wandered my veins in a slow crawl. What would it say? She’d written it thirty-five years ago. Would she have forgotten me by now? I gave myself a mental shake. Why would it even matter to me—words changed nothing. “Never mind. I need to get to work.”

I started for the door in the grips of an overwhelming urge to flee, but Ben sidestepped to block my path. His fingers brushed my cheek and smeared a tear I didn’t know had escaped. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

“No.” I shook my head, sending a fan of hair across my eyes. I scrubbed the wetness from my face. “I’m not ready for this. I thought I could show you I could be brave so maybe you—I shouldn’t have—”

“I think you came here hoping I’d give you a push.” His fingers curled around mine and pulled the yellowed envelope out of my grasp. “Sit with me.”

Is that why I came?
I’d convinced myself I’d be bolder in Ben’s presence the way I was with Dad, that I’d open the letter simply because I didn’t want him to think of me as weak. Nothing about Ben challenged me. Everything about him drew me in and made me want to be vulnerable with him, to share every part of myself, even the corner of my soul where the sappy, sentimental fool lived. But why? I just met the guy. I shouldn’t have fallen so far so fast. Maybe Mom had been right all along, that I’d been doomed since the moment I’d laid eyes on him and no amount of fighting it would have enabled me to walk away.

Ben sat on the sofa and gazed up at me, his smile sad beneath the tenderness of his eyes.

I hesitated in front of him, wringing my hands together.

“Why are you so nervous?”

Hyperaware of my fidgeting, I stuffed my hands into my pockets so I wouldn’t be tempted. I shrugged. “I don’t even know. It’s so stupid. My whole life I thought she didn’t want me, and I know that letter says otherwise.” I dug the toe of my black shoe into the carpet, staring at him through my hair. “I should want to read it, right? I should be excited, not on the verge of blubbering like an idiot or barfing all over your floor.” I tugged one hand out of my pocket and tossed it up.

“Are you afraid it will affect how you feel about your adoptive parents?”

As I considered it, my brow wrinkled. “I don’t think so. They’ve done a pretty good job making me question them on their own.”

“Is it because you don’t like to cry?”

I snorted. “Nobody likes to cry, Ben.”

“You more than most, I think. When I saw your tears that day in my office, I think it was the first time I truly saw … you, the one beneath the outspoken smartass.”

I gave a nervous laugh before I remembered to scowl. “Hey!”

“I’m not like your father, Evangeline, if what I gathered through what you said about him is true. I don’t see emotion as a weakness.” He took my hand and pulled me down beside him.

Unable to bear watching him open the letter, I turned to face the far end of the sofa and drew my knees up. Ben shifted, wrapped his arm around my shoulders and gathered me against his chest.

“Are you ready?”

“No.” The word came out as a squeak.

He squeezed tighter.

The paper crinkled, and Ben cleared his throat. “To my baby girl. One of my friends is adopted, and she always wonders what her birth parents are like so I asked the agency if I could give this letter to you. I don’t know if you’ll get to read it, but I hope you do.”

From the first word, tears dripped from my chin and onto Ben’s arm.

He kissed the crown of my head. “Do you want me to go on?”

The soft comfort of his voice took some of the tightness from my throat. I wiped my face and nodded, unsure whether or not I meant it.

Another crinkle of paper. “My name is Meredith and I’m your mom. I’m a junior in high school and my boyfriend, your dad, is a senior on the football team. We love each other and wanted to raise you together but neither of us have jobs, and our parents wouldn’t help us. I’m so sorry.”

A wave of grief overtook me and I sobbed. Ben shifted behind me, and a moment later, handed me a tissue. His warm arms encircled me, held me while my body racked beneath the weight of my emotions, until the heaving stopped and only hiccups remained.

“There’s just a bit left.” His left arm released me and picked up the letter from wherever he’d set it. “I loved you from the first time your little foot poked into my belly. I sang Brahms’s Lullaby to you almost every night. You must have liked it because you always stopped moving when I did that. Someday I hope to be a writer or maybe a journalist. I’ll always think of you and wonder where you are, if you look like me. If you ever want to meet me, I hope you’ll be able to find me and can forgive me for giving you up. I can only hope I did the right thing, and you’re having a nice life. Love always, Meredith Bennit.”

Ben set the letter down and held me with both arms again. “There’s tear stains all over the paper.” His face pressed into my hair, his warmth enveloping me as another hiccupping sob broke free.

We sat in silence for a while. Numbness settled in. As the words sank into my thoughts, waves of sorrow and joy took turns flowing through me. Guilt followed as I thought of Mom and all the phone calls I hadn’t returned. She had always loved me as her own, but I couldn’t help wonder how different my life would have been and if the bond would have been different with Meredith Bennit.

Ben stroked his fingers through my hair. “Call Cameron and tell him you won’t be in today.”

“Shit.” I stood, looking at my watch. “I’m late.”

“Stay here with me.”

I shook my head and started for the door. “No. We’re shorthanded as it is. I already let Cameron down once last week, I’m not going to do it again.”

Ben came after me. “I insist. Now that I’m not taking up his time anymore, he’ll manage for today.”

The thought of curling up in Ben’s arms to sleep made me stop in front of the door. “You must have stuff to do too.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Don’t you?”

He tugged me to him, slid his hand along my throat, and placed a kiss on my forehead. “Wait here. I’ll have Brent take care of everything.”

As he went out, I stared after him, battling over the decision to protest or not. Great. Now Brent was going to think we’re headed off to knock boots like horny bunnies. A laugh crept up on me. Before I could contain it, I held my stomach and could do nothing but let it out. By the time Ben came back, my gut ached.

He flashed a bright grin. “Have I missed something?”

Through sporadic giggles, I said, “No. I guess I’m just tired, or possibly losing my mind. A bit of relief maybe.” Desperate for his touch, I reached for his hand, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles as I pressed against him. I looked up and caught his gaze, thought I might drown in the depth of his emerald eyes. “Thank you.”

He scooped me into his arms and started toward the stairs. “No. Thank you for letting me see you vulnerable, and for sharing that moment with me.” His lips met my forehead. “I’ll never forget it as long as I live.”

We spent most of the day watching movies in his bed, snuggled up naked, though I found nothing sexual about it, not that time. Pure comfort, a warm blanket that could wrap itself around me. I could have stayed that way for hours.

I woke up sticky from sweat. Ben’s chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep. Unable to stop myself, I traced the ridges of his stomach with my fingertip until he quivered and gave a lazy laugh.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Mmm, that it is.” He pulled me on top of him, stroking my hair along my back. “I could stay here with you forever and it wouldn’t get old.”

I nibbled his jaw. “Mmm.” My eyes caught the time on his clock radio. Seven-thirty. “Shit. I need to go home and get some—”

“Already taken care of. I took the liberty of having some properly fitted women’s shirts made for you last week, and Brent did a little shopping for you yesterday afternoon.”