Never Too Much Read online

  Kent smiled. “Whatever you say.”

  She gave him a sharp look, but Kent kept his expression impassive. “I say one night with him was enough. Any more than that, and I’m just asking for trouble.”

  She stomped on past Kent, and since she couldn’t see him, he gave into a grin. He had the feeling Sierra was in for the surprise of her life.

  Chapter Six

  Kent and Sierra stopped in the lot. They both looked around, Sierra with determination to get her mind back on track, Kent with consideration for what needed to be done. “It’s going to take all day to get this mess cleaned up.”

  Kicking at a fat limb in the drive, Kent said, “He’s not Griffin, hon.”

  “He could be.” She squinted, shading her eyes with a hand. “I barely know him.”

  She watched as Kent picked up the heavy limb, braced it on his shoulder, and toted it toward her truck. She picked up several smaller twigs and followed him.

  “You’ve got good instincts, Sierra. No, don’t say it.” He dumped the limb, then leaned on the back of the truck bed and studied her. “You were little more than a child when you married Griff, so he doesn’t count. And you know well enough that most men aren’t like him anyway. He was a major asshole, and I should have beat the hell out of him at least once.”

  For a single moment, alarm skittered up her spine. But Griffin was far away, and both she and Kent were safe from his petty revenge. “You’d have ended up in jail and we both know it.”

  “Would’ve been worth it.”

  Damn, she was lucky to have him for a friend. “You’re a nut, Kent, and I love you.” Then, as she’d done so many times, she put the past behind her.

  With a disgusted look at her wrinkled clothes, she said, “I’m going to go in and change, then I’ll be right out. With any luck, we can get the biggest part of this mess cleaned up before you head to Mrs. Badwin’s. The rest of the stuff I can do on my own.”

  “Take your time.”

  Sierra spent a good ten minutes washing her face, brushing her hair and containing it in a braid, cleaning her teeth. Mostly she used the time to regroup, to regain some of her self. She hadn’t felt this muddled since the night her father had kicked her out and she’d had no place to go.

  Except to Griff.

  She shook her head. No this was different, even a little exciting, but still wrong. From the moment Ben had said he wanted her, she hadn’t been able to not think of him. He was just so . . . different.

  He’d introduced her to his mother.

  She still couldn’t get over that, over him and what he’d done, to her and with her. His casual attitude about it all. He perplexed her with the various sides to his personality, generous and humorous and so damn open.

  He kept nothing hidden, when she hid so much.

  His mother had appeared to like her; that was odd, too. Sierra wasn’t a woman to primp, but Mrs. Badwin had seen her at her absolute worst, with her hair a mess and her clothes rumpled from a night on the floor. Not only that, but Sierra was sure Mrs. Badwin knew that she’d just left her son’s bed. Sierra closed her eyes as embarrassment washed over her again.

  She’d never had a mother herself, at least not that she could remember. Her father had raised her, and he’d never been a very affectionate person. Her father’s concerns had been of the soul, of staying pure, not of showing or sharing love. Watching Ben hug his mother with so much exuberance, so much caring had wrenched something deep inside her. How must it feel to be loved so unconditionally?

  Uneasiness held her for another reason, too. She now understood that Ben’s forthright manner had been just that—his manner. He was comfortable with himself to the point he had no secrets, no regrets. He loved his mother and showed it. He wanted Sierra and said so.

  Sierra had matched his honesty out of a deeply rooted, self-imposed principle. After her divorce, she’d sworn never again to defer to a man for any reason. She’d been playing one-upmanship, and it had backfired in a big way because, as Ben said, he felt challenged.

  Resisting him was not going to be easy.

  Kent stuck his head in the door and yelled down the short hall. “Hey, you okay in there?”

  “Fine.” Sierra leaned out of the bathroom so she could see him over the packing boxes and crates. “I’ll be right there.”

  Kent was silent a moment, looking her over, then he shook his head. “No rush.”

  But there was a rush. She had a lot to do to get organized if she wanted her business to be a success. She absolutely did not have time to waste on Ben Badwin—no matter how sexy, funny, and unaccountably generous he might be.

  She’d just have to force herself to remember that.

  At one-thirty, Ben found Sierra at the back of her lot, on her hands and knees, digging at weeds around a colorful, freshly planted flowerbed. The red highlights in her hair shown brightly in the afternoon sun. She’d contained it in a thick braid, and it was now damp at her temples and the nape of her neck. Her gray shirt, smudged with dirt, was two sizes too large, hanging limp on her small frame. Her frayed cutoffs rode just high enough on her pert behind to stir his already teeming hunger.

  For several minutes, Ben indulged his need to watch her. Every so often she muttered to herself, her words indistinct but the tone clearly one of encouragement in the face of her weariness.

  In the short time he’d known her, he’d already realized they had a lot in common. For one thing, Sierra had the driving urge to be her own boss, and she relished the hard work that took her one step closer to that goal. Ben understood that because he’d already gone through it. It wasn’t an easy road to take, but he had the gut feeling she was more than up to the task.

  He’d known a lot of women, but none who seemed to enjoy good old-fashioned labor the way she did.

  For another thing, he liked challenges, and whether Sierra admitted it or not, she liked issuing them. Her exotic eyes lit up with defiance every time she felt a loss of control. She had a way of getting pugnacious real quick whenever she thought someone had stepped on her independent little toes. It was a rather endearing trait, especially since he was used to women catering to him, going out of their way to encourage him.

  Sierra tried to push him away by word and deed every chance she got.

  Except when he touched her. Then she thawed so fast she took his breath away.

  Finally she sat back on her heels, wiped the back of her wrist across her brow, and surveyed the rest of the area in front of her. The rows of bushes, which had been displaced by the storm, now sat neat and orderly again. Small balled trees were arranged by type, and landscaping stones were stacked in rounded piles here and there.

  He’d like to think Kent had done most of the heavier lifting, but he knew better.

  Though she’d planted several bright flower borders and beds, more weeds grew in smattered clusters from the hard ground. She put her hand to her back and groaned as she came to her feet. Looking up at the sun, she stretched.

  Watching her further stirred Ben’s blood. She was such an earthy little pagan. “You had lunch yet?”

  She jerked around to face him and to Ben’s alert eyes, she looked a little sunburned. “What are you doing here?”

  In the glare, her eyes were impossibly green and accusing. Ben took one measured step toward her, and she backed up. “Hey, don’t look so panicked. I just want to feed you.”

  “Oh.” Sullen indignation drew her brows down. “I’m not panicked, and I already told you I have work to do.”

  Every time he got near her, he had to fight a grin. “What did you think I wanted, Sierra?”

  She searched his face, chewed her bottom lip. She looked beyond him, then back. “What you said earlier.”

  The break in her voice, the slight tremor, gave her away. “About pleasuring you?”

  She frowned, a little cautious. “Yes.”

  Earlier, while she’d donned her underwear, he’d offered to show her all the ways she could reach her rele
ase—without actually having sex. She’d made her reservations on intercourse clear, so Ben had decided to work around them by offering her a compromise.

  She’d flat-out refused him, but now Ben could see she’d considered it in more detail, and had aroused herself in the bargain.

  Damn.

  Ben took a leisurely review of her body. Even wilted in the heat, she stood straight and proud, her shoulders squared, her gaze direct. Her breasts rose and fell with deep breaths—either from exertion or excitement, he wasn’t sure which.

  In select places, her shirt stuck to her with perspiration—at her chest, below her breasts and belly. The leg creases of her shorts were damp, and though he’d planned to give her some time, once Ben noticed that he had to touch her.

  The ways they affected each other were unbelievable.

  He strode forward. “I’ll feed you lunch after.”

  Startled by his approach, she again backed up a step. “After?”

  “Yeah.” He touched her cheek. “Look at you. You’re trembling.”

  He heard her swallow, saw the way her eyes darkened. “I’m tired.”

  “And turned on.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just that I’m not used to this. To guys like you.” He continued to touch her, trailing his fingertips over her cheek to her ear, the side of her throat. It was only a light touch, but she shook her head as if to clear it. When she spoke again, her voice was lower, less strident. “You’re making me loopy.”

  Her skin was soft, dewy. He saw her eyes close, heard her draw an uneven breath. Jesus, she was so hot and so quick to react.

  Ben trailed his fingertips along her jaw, down her throat to her breast. Watching her, he circled one firm nipple. “Loopy?”

  Her breath caught. “I’ve never thought about sex much, at least not since my marriage.”

  Not since my marriage. Ben thought that an odd way to put it. Surely she meant since her divorce. A lot of women were bitter after going through such an ordeal, and they temporarily swore off men.

  Or had her husband been a lousy lover, leaving her to believe all men were the same?

  He raised his free hand and treated the other breast to the same treatment, touching lightly, cupping her. “Kent is gone?”

  She nodded, swallowed hard. “He’s got it bad.”

  Ben’s hands stilled. “Got what bad?”

  Without him tormenting her, she got her eyes to open. “For your mother. Long as I’ve known him, he’s never acted this way.”

  Ben scowled. “Let’s save that discussion for later, okay? Some things just don’t mix well. Let’s concentrate on this instead.” To emphasize this, he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. They thrust against the damp cotton of her shirt, making it very hard for him to concentrate.

  Her gloved hands curled into fists, her low moan sounding hoarse and raw.

  Ben smiled knowingly. “You’re almost ready now.”

  “No . . .”

  “Yeah, you are. Why do you want to fight this? It’d be so good, Sierra.”

  “No.” Even as she said it, she leaned forward, into his touch, and she bit her lip.

  “We’re both adults, both single.” He kissed her sun-warmed nose, her cheekbone. “There’s something special going on here, Sierra. Why deny it?”

  She shook her head.

  “All right. You can keep your secrets.” He didn’t want to interrupt the carnality of the moment. He kissed her full on the lips, breathed in her intensified scent. “For now.”

  Continuing to hold her breasts, he said, “Tell me what you’ve been doing today.”

  Two deep breaths later, she mumbled, “Cleaning up the lot. Rearranging things. Putting up—Ah, Ben.”

  He brushed her nipples, plucked, lightly pinched. “Talk to me, Sierra.”

  “I can’t.” Her hands closed over his wrists, holding him tightly. “Not while you’re doing that.”

  The lot was deserted and only someone watching closely would even notice them. Still, Ben backed her up beside a shed, into the shade and out of sight of passersby. He pressed into her, bending his knees a little so his cock rested against her plump mound.

  She moaned and her open mouth found his, hungry, anxious. Ben released one breast to cup her bottom, to lift her into the gentle rhythm he set, stroking her and himself through their layers of clothing.

  Her gloved hands caught at the back of his neck. She began to shiver, to tighten, and Ben was amazed at how fast she got there, how little effort it had taken on his part. She was a sexual powder keg, and he was one lucky man.

  Sierra tried to pull away as the sensations swiftly built, tried to gasp for air, but Ben didn’t let her. He kept her close, taking her small cries into his mouth, stroking harder and faster, determined to take everything. Suddenly she stiffened. She wrenched her mouth free and groaned harshly, gulping air, trembling all over. Ben watched the sensual agony on her face and felt the bite of her hands on his shoulders.

  He felt so much a part of her that he almost came, too.

  Sierra seemed bewildered as her climax faded and she went limp, only to realize Ben was rigid, his teeth clenched, his fingers digging into her hips. He pressed his face to her throat and concentrated on breathing, on holding back the tide of sensations. He didn’t want to shock her by coming in his pants.

  At the last moment before he regained control, he felt her kiss his temple with infinite tenderness.

  As his sluggish brain started to function again, Ben managed a chuckle but the sound was rusty and weak. “Damn. That was too close for comfort.” He still didn’t trust himself to move too fast. Things were getting out of hand. He’d have to have her—and soon.

  She removed her gloves, dropped them to the ground, and her slender fingers stroked through his hair. “Your hair is so soft,” she murmured with what sounded like wonder, and Ben had no idea what to say to that.

  She tipped her head in an effort to see his face. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” He raised his head, took in her perplexed, fascinated expression, and felt his heart twist. “Seeing you come makes me want to come. Bad.” Trying not to smile, he said, “Don’t think less of me, okay? I’m only a man, and you’re irresistible.”

  Her brows beetled as she considered that, taking his teasing words seriously. “No, I won’t think less of you. It’s exciting that you get so . . . turned on.”

  She’d been married, and Ben wondered if her husband hadn’t been just as turned on. It seemed impossible to him that any man could be with Sierra and not lose himself in her natural sensuality. None of it added up. In some ways, she was so sure of herself, so brazen. But in others, in sexual matters, she was far too inexperienced to have been a wife.

  Questions crowded his brain, but for now, Ben kept them to himself. He’d pushed her enough for one day.

  She groaned, this time in annoyance, and shoved against his shoulders. “Look at all the time I’ve wasted now.”

  A weaker man would have no ego left. “Take it easy on me, honey. I’m working on a hair-trigger here.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  Their combined scents mingled with the musky aroma of sexual excitement. Ben smoothed Sierra’s warm cheek with his thumb. “What can I say? I like being sweaty with you.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand you.” Her exasperation, her confusion, were plain in her tone of voice. “Why do you keep doing this if it’s so difficult for you?”

  Because he knew he’d eventually tempt her into his bed. But he wasn’t fool enough to tell her that. “Why don’t you take a quick shower, then come over for lunch and we’ll discuss it?”

  “Ben . . .”

  Still holding her shoulders, Ben took a step away from her so they could both gather their wits. “The special today is a killer chicken salad on croissants, with fresh fruit.” Maybe he could entice her with food, since his sexual techniques hadn’t gotten her yet. At least, not beyond the moment.

/>   But even before he’d finished the offer, she was shaking her head. “Can’t.” She bent to pick up her gloves, then pulled them back on. “I’ve got too much work to do yet.”

  “You’ve been working all morning.”

  “Yeah, and I haven’t even started inside. I told you it’d take me at least a week to get everything unpacked and organized, but I want to at least get the kitchen done before bed.”

  So she wouldn’t have to come to him for coffee in the morning? Ben frowned, annoyed and beyond sexual frustration.

  Oblivious to his turmoil, Sierra swiped at her forehead, pushing her damp bangs out of her face. “I should have taken care of that first, but I wanted to be outside for a while. It makes it easier for me to think.”

  “You were thinking about me.”

  She didn’t confirm or deny that. She gave him a level look and said, “The sun feels good, and with the ground softened from the rain, pulling weeds is easier.”

  “You have to eat,” Ben reasoned, disgruntled with her continued rejection. Every time he thought he’d made headway, she found a new reason to refuse him. “I’ll help you after lunch. With two of us it won’t take as long.”

  “No.”

  Ben gave her a long look. “I prefer your moans to your refusals, you know.”

  Hands on her hips, she stared down at the ground for a few seconds before replying. “Look, I don’t want you to feel obligated to help me just because we were . . . well”—she glanced at him and gestured helplessly—“fooling around.”

  “Who’s fooling?” Ben bent to brush a soft kiss over her mouth. In a low whisper, he said, “I’m very serious about making you moan.”

  It took her a few seconds after his kiss to get her eyes opened again. She sighed. “You’re very good at it, too.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But that’s just it.” She turned and walked away, heading toward the front of the lot. “With you around, I doubt I’d get any real work done.”