Never Too Much Page 21

  Her eyes closed on a gasp, her hips lifting to bring him deeper. He held back.

  “Look at me, Sierra. I want to see you.”

  It took her a moment, and she finally got her lids lifted. “That’s right. Don’t look away. Don’t hide from me.” Ben gently fingered her, watching her, gauging her responses. He kept the heel of his hand pressed to her mound, softly grinding, while his middle finger worked lazily in and out. She was hot, growing more so by the second, her breath coming faster and faster.

  He pulled his finger out to tease her softly swelling lips, lower, making her gasp in shock, then back up again to push deep.

  She moaned and again squeezed her eyes shut.

  Near her ear, Ben whispered, “Think how this will feel when it’s my tongue touching you, licking you, slipping inside you.”

  At the teasing of his own words, his muscles clenched. God, he’d push himself over the edge if he weren’t careful. He was dying to taste her. He’d always loved pleasuring a woman with his mouth, hearing her raw moans and feeling her wild response. Women’s bodies were so soft and sweet. But with Sierra, familiar desires were amplified because it wasn’t just sex. It was Sierra. And she was his.

  Sierra groaned and tightened her arms around him. “Make love to me, Ben, please.”

  “I will.” He had to. He needed her more than he’d ever needed anyone.

  Slow, steady, he pushed his finger in, teasing, plying her tender flesh, then withdrawing. She strained against him.

  “Right here, Sierra.” He used his rough thumb to rub over her distended clitoris. He was careful not to push her into a climax, careful to make it last. She looked beautiful in that moment, vague and excited and so hot. “I’ll kiss you right here, curl my tongue around you.”

  Her panting breaths escalated, heat poured off her. Her gaze was locked on his as if she couldn’t look away.

  His mouth touched hers, and he whispered, “I’ll suck on you.”

  With a harsh cry, she almost came. Ben quickly withdrew, holding her when she fought to come against him, soothing her.

  “Shhh . . .” He stroked her hair, kissed her ear. “Easy now. Tell me you care about me, honey.”

  She sank her nails into his shoulders, opened her mouth against his chest. Bewildered, she asked, “Why are you doing this?”

  “Do you mean the talking, or the touching?”

  Her breaths were ragged, her body quivering, on the very edge of release. “Both.”

  “The touching is for your pleasure. It’s only going to build and build, until you can’t take it anymore.” He licked her ear, drew her earlobe into his mouth. “Trust me.”

  “I . . . I need you. Now.” Her belly rubbed his, her nipples prodded against his chest. “Please.”

  Ben fought the temptation to take her. He caught her hands as she reached down to encircle his erection. If she got hold of him there, he’d lose all control. “Tell me you care about me, Sierra.”

  She shook her head. “No . . .”

  “Tell me.”

  “Ben. I can’t.”

  “Tell me.” He anchored her hands in one of his, then slid his hand back down her body. Her legs opened for him and he caught her clitoris between finger and thumb, just holding her, exerting the smallest bit of pressure. He could feel her heartbeat throbbing there.

  She gave a small sob, clinging to him.

  “Sierra?” He increased the pressure the tiniest bit.

  “Yes.” She swallowed, curled into him. “Yes, yes.”

  Desperation made her voice rough. Using his shoulders, Ben levered her back to the bed and held her there, his hand still between her thighs, his attention sharp on her face. “He hurt you, didn’t he?”

  Her eyes widened with sudden realization of his tactics. “You . . .”

  Oh no, Ben wouldn’t let her get distracted. Feeling ruthless in his determination, he pushed two fingers heavily into her. Her neck arched with a moan and Ben watched her stiffen, watched the wash of acute pleasure soften her anger. He had to push her. He had to know. “He hurt you, and you’re afraid he’ll somehow hurt me.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, refusing to answer.

  Ben was intent on devastating her, on destroying her reticence. She was very wet now, very close, her flesh swollen and sensitive. He teased her clitoris again, stroking, circling, tugging.

  “Tell me, Sierra.”

  Her back bowed, her lips parted. The position forced her breasts up and Ben couldn’t resist briefly mouthing a taut nipple. She shuddered as he softly drew on her, flicked her with his tongue. “Tell me,” he urged.

  “Oh God . . .”

  She tightened around his fingers, and it was beyond Ben to stop her this time. He took her mouth, tasting her excitement and swallowing her raw, broken moans. Wet heat bathed his fingers as she climaxed and he felt the convulsions of inner muscles, the rippling aftereffects of her release. She cried out brokenly, rocking into him, mindless in her pleasure.

  In slow progression, she quieted, until finally she lay still. Ben drew her half atop him, rocking her, holding her to his heart. Damn it, that hadn’t gone as he wanted. He needed her to confide in him. He needed her to trust him.

  Gradually, her fingers opened on his chest. Just as slowly she pushed her head up to see him. Her reddish hair hung in long tendrils around her face. Her green eyes were dark, soft. Because she was still flushed, her few freckles stood out across her nose and cheeks. Her lips were rosy, swollen.

  Ben waited, unsure what she’d do—unsure what he should do.

  She stared at his mouth and said, “One week after we were married, Griffin hit me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ben went rigid. He’d known, goddamn it, he’d known, but hearing her say it so casually ripped him apart. Hands shaking, agonized for what she’d gone through, Ben held her and waited.

  Sierra shivered. She slid down to rest her cheek on his shoulder, snuggling in to get comfortable. To Ben, it seemed she was hiding, unwilling to face him as she made her confessions. He’d help her get over that, he decided. He’d make her understand that she had nothing to be ashamed of, and she need never hide from him.

  “He didn’t ease into it.” Her voice was soft, a low whisper. “He didn’t pretend it wouldn’t happen again. He never apologized. Once he hit me, he decided there was no reason he shouldn’t keep hitting me whenever he thought I deserved it, or whenever he got angry.”

  “Did he ever hurt you before you were married?”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have married him if he had.”

  Ben hugged her to let her know he hadn’t meant his question as an insult.

  “He was always nice, very courteous. He complimented me and took me places. I realized later that he never really liked me, he just wanted to have sex with me. Men are nice to women they want to sleep with.”

  “Good men are nice to all women.”

  She nodded. “Like you.”

  “Like most of the men I know.”

  Sierra tangled her fingers in his chest hair, let out a long breath. “I honestly don’t think he’d ever hit a woman before that. I remember he seemed as stunned by what he’d done as I was. He backhanded me, I fell, and he just stared at me, like he was in shock.”

  Ben swallowed hard, hating the picture that formed in his mind. The idea of anyone hurting Sierra made his stomach cramp with impotent rage. He hadn’t even known her then, but he felt guilty that he hadn’t been there to help her.

  “He wasn’t a happy man, but I thought at first that maybe he’d get over it.”

  “It?”

  “Our . . . circumstances, because we’d had to get married.”

  “You were pregnant?” His whole body stiffened with that possibility.

  “No. But we were found in a very compromising situation.” She shook her head. “Looking back, I realize how dumb it was, that it wouldn’t have even mattered if we hadn’t lived in a small town, and if our f
athers had been different, less important people.”

  Ben waited, rubbing her back, kissing her temple every so often just because he had to touch her.

  “One of the local deputies caught us in the backseat of Griff’s car, pretty much in the act. I was naked, Griff had his jeans around his knees.” She shivered. “It was so humiliating. I can still remember the second that flashlight hit me in the eyes.” She shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Griff was twenty-one at the time, but I was underage, so the deputy hauled me home and presented me to my father.”

  Ben remembered when he’d been a teenager, all the lectures his mother had given him on sex and responsibility and how women should be treated. She’d never seemed overly uncomfortable with the discussions, but she’d also never walked in on him. That would disconcert anyone. “I can see how embarrassing that would be.”

  Sierra peeked up at him. “Dad was a minister for the biggest church in town. He was . . . very pious and righteous, not what anyone would call a softhearted man. Our house, his car, everything was paid for by the congregation.” She shrugged again, as if it didn’t matter when Ben knew it mattered a great deal. “Naturally, he was horrified. I mean, for the minister’s daughter to be caught naked, making out . . . Well, it went against everything he preached on, every sermon he’d ever given.”

  Ben’s heart wrenched, trying to imagine Sierra’s guilt, and how her father must have felt. “What did he do?”

  “He kicked me out. We’d had a rough time of it anyway, and that was just a little too much for him to tolerate. He told me I’d always been sinful, and he was tired of trying to deal with my shame.”

  Ben was thankful that she wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t want her to know how her words hurt and enraged him. Some men didn’t deserve to be fathers. “He overreacted, honey.”

  “No.” She nuzzled against him, rubbing his chest with her cheek. “He was naturally strict and I rebelled. Looking back, I don’t know why I did it, why I always wanted to goad him.” Sierra twisted to see him, and she looked so sad, so resigned. “He’s gone now. He died not long after I left town. Because of me, he lost his church, his followers . . . he lost everything, and there’s no way I can ever tell him I’m sorry, that I wish things had been different.”

  Ben’s heart broke for the anguish he saw in her gaze. “He could have contacted you, Sierra. But he didn’t.”

  “No. He didn’t like me much.” She resettled herself and Ben felt her soft sigh on his bare chest. “My skirts were too short, I cursed on occasion, and I liked boys.” She gave a short laugh. “Obviously the wrong boys, huh? When I messed up that last time, he told me I’d made my bed and I’d just have to live with my bad choices.”

  Inadvertently, Ben tightened his arms around her, squeezing her too tight. She stroked him, trying to comfort him.

  “I didn’t really know what I was going to do. He was the only family I had. I didn’t have anywhere to go, and I didn’t have much money. But by the end of that day, half the town had found out, and everyone was talking about it, saying things about me, my father, and about Griff.”

  “Gossip is always hurtful.”

  She made a rough sound of agreement. “Griff’s father was the sheriff, and he had me picked up in a patrol car. I was so scared, not knowing what he’d do. I wasn’t going to be eighteen for another two months and I was dumb enough that I thought maybe they were going to send me to juvenile, or put me in a halfway house or something. But when I got to the station, Griff was there, too.”

  She tightened against him, and Ben hugged her closer, murmuring to her, wishing he could somehow remove the past.

  Her voice went flat, emotionless. “They took me into the interrogation room, told me to sit in a chair, and then pretty much ignored me. Sheriff Ross told Griff we had to get married. They had an awful argument about it. Even though the door was closed, I just knew everyone in the station could hear them.”

  Ben ached for her, imagining her humiliation. It sounded as though Griffin Ross had inherited his father’s cruelty.

  “It was an election year,” she went on, “and the sheriff wanted to eventually run for mayor. He comes from a political background, with powerful relatives. He said . . . some crude things.”

  “Tell me.”

  She drew a deep breath. “He said if Griff wanted to poke the preacher’s daughter, he could damn well do it legitimately. He said he didn’t care if I was a little slut, that Griff should have thought of that before he got caught screwing me in the damn car.” She hesitated, then added, “Griff was the first for me. I wasn’t a slut. I flirted a lot, but I hadn’t . . . I hadn’t gone all the way till I met him. It seemed unfair for his father to say that to me, especially when he turned around and told Griff he should have learned to keep his pants zipped.” She snorted. “I think Griff was the slut, not me.”

  “They were both wrong, Sierra.”

  “Griff argued that he shouldn’t be punished just because my father was a bastard. It went on and on, but Sheriff Ross insisted. He told Griff he’d cut him out of the family if he didn’t do the right thing. He told him he could divorce me in a few years, after he was mayor and I was older.”

  Ben ground his teeth together, appalled, enraged. Griff should have offered to take care of her, but not to save his father’s career. He was older, a grown man while Sierra hadn’t even been legal. Neither of them had shown any compassion. “The son of a bitch should have been in jail for taking advantage of you.”

  “His father mentioned that to him, too, and told him with so many people knowing what had happened, it was in his best interest to do the smart thing and marry me.”

  “Even after all that, you wanted to marry him?”

  “What else could I have done? I had no family, no money, no place to go. I didn’t have much choice.”

  Choices. Ben closed his eyes, knowing he, too, wanted to take away her choices. She wanted independence. She deserved independence—and he wanted a commitment.

  Unaware of his personal turmoil, Sierra continued. She still spoke in a monotone, while Ben was choking on emotion. “I convinced myself that being Griff’s wife would be better than living with my father. I thought maybe he’d get used to the idea and we could go on as we had been, having fun, laughing together, making out and more. God, I was so dumb.”

  “Young, Sierra, and maybe a little naive. But never dumb.”

  She laughed. “Griff certainly thought I was dumb. He said I ruined his life and put him on bad terms with his father. He said the whole town was talking about him. There was no more teasing between us, no more laughter at all. It was like he despised me. He rarely wanted to have sex with me, and usually then only if he was angry. Our relationship, if you could call it that, went downhill from the day I said I do.”

  Absently, Ben stroked his hands up and down her narrow, silky back. She was a strong woman, but still slight and feminine. The thought of what she’d gone through left him raw. “You divorced him?”

  “Yes. I had thought to wait, like his father said, but then I . . . just couldn’t. When I first mentioned divorce, Griff got enraged. He told me he’d divorce me when he was damn good and ready, and not a second before. I was sort of stuck.”

  “Did you tell your dad that he was—”

  “He knew. Everyone did.”

  Ben shook with a new rage. Her father had known she was abused but obviously hadn’t done anything to help her. “Because of the bruises?”

  “Yes. You can’t know how humiliating that is, to have people, some of them near strangers, look at you with pity. Don’t misunderstand, Griff never hurt me bad.”

  “He hit you.”

  “Slaps, mostly. I had bruises, a few split lips, a few black eyes . . .”

  She must have felt his tension because she reared up to look at him. “I’m sorry, Ben. I don’t mean to burden you with—”

  “Hush. I want to know everything about you. It’s just that I wish I’d been
there. I wish you hadn’t gone through it all alone.”

  Her small smile warmed him. “I didn’t. When I finally worked up the nerve to leave, despite Griff’s threats, I met Kent. He picked me up on the road and somehow we just became best friends in one afternoon. Like a guardian angel, he stuck close to me, keeping me safe, loaning me money until I . . .” Her smile faded, and she curled back into Ben, her hold tight. “After my father died, I inherited what property and savings he had. It wasn’t a lot, but with a strict budget, it was enough to get me through school and help me buy this place. And now, I’m happy.”

  Ben smoothed her hair, kissed the top of her head, her ear. “You’re skipping a lot.”

  “Yes.” She sighed again. “A lifetime. But we are finally divorced now, and so I’ve left that all in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore, not to me, and certainly not to us.”

  Us. Ben liked her wording, her small admission that they were in fact a couple. He continued to hold her, to cuddle her. “It can’t really be over when he’s still bothering you.”

  “Ben.” She moved above him, leaving her breasts displayed over his chest. “You promised me you wouldn’t get involved unless I asked you to.”

  She had to be kidding. With a straight face, he said, “Right. That’s what I said.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “There’ve been enough people hurt.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I do not want you tangling with him.”

  “Okay.” He wouldn’t tangle. He’d pound him into the ground—they were two entirely different things.

  She thumped her fist on his chest, which made Ben start in surprise. “Damn it, Ben . . .”

  Unwilling to fight with her now, Ben tumbled her onto her back. The need to join with her, to claim her again, to prove to himself and her that she belonged with him, took precedence over every other emotion. “Shhh. I know what I promised, Sierra. You won’t regret confiding in me. But there’s no damn way I’m going to let him hurt you again.”

  She started to shake her head, denying him, and Ben whispered, “Come to that, I made a lot of promises today, didn’t I?”