Never Too Much Page 8

  She slept on, her breaths even and deep, her lips slightly parted, her body relaxed and heavy.

  He moved to the foot of the bed and tossed the sheet to the floor. Careful not to shake the mattress, he knelt between her thighs. Very slowly, he spread her legs wider, his blood churning at what he did, at the excruciating excitement of it.

  Sierra accommodated him by bending one knee, opening herself even more to his hungry gaze and searching touch. She started to turn to her side but Ben quickly caught her hips and held her still until she settled back with a soft sigh.

  He’d never known a woman to sleep so soundly. For one suspicious moment, Ben wondered if she wasn’t asleep at all, if she was just playing possum. But no, her face and her body had that totally relaxed posture of deep slumber.

  Poor baby. She’d worked herself to the bone yesterday, then been up half the night with the storm damage to her new place. And his lust.

  Ben remembered how her body had tightened around his fingers, the small noises she’d made deep in her throat, the expression of wonder on her face . . .

  He inhaled slowly and looked at her. Her inner thighs were very pale and so silky soft. She was small and vulnerable and she made him feel violent with need. Unable to stop himself, Ben put both hands on her upper thighs, caressing the smooth muscles, feeling the texture of her tender flesh. His heart pounded so hard, it threatened to break something.

  He swallowed, and using only his fingertips, carefully opened her. Her vulva was soft, glistening pink, her clitoris small, delicate.

  She was beautiful.

  Overcome, shaking, Ben bent and lightly kissed her. He’d abstained all night, and now he couldn’t wait. He hurt with the need to have her. With ultimate care, he rasped his tongue over her, up, licking gently . . .

  All at once, her body stiffened. Ben lifted his head, Sierra did the same. Their eyes met.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in a confused croak, her expression dazed.

  Ben said, “Uh . . . molesting you in your sleep?” He still held her open, so there was no denying it. He fastened his gaze on her sex, so lusciously female, and his body went taut with raging need. “Sierra.”

  She didn’t moan. She shrieked. Loudly.

  He got kicked in the head as she scrambled away from him and made a grab for the sheets. She hunkered against the headboard, her body now hidden from his view.

  Seeing stars from the blow, Ben sat back on his heels, fighting his disappointment and his guilt at taking advantage of her. He rubbed his jaw, winced. “Judging by your look of horror, I take it you’re not interested in a little morning nookie?”

  Her eyes were so huge, her face so red, she looked comical. “You were . . . were . . . looking at me!”

  “Yeah.” Ben let his gaze rove over her small sheet-covered body and wished like hell she was still asleep. “I was considering having you for breakfast before you kicked me in the jaw.”

  Her mouth opened and closed twice. She frowned, looking very adorable to him with her puffy eyes and tousled hair. “Did I hurt you?”

  Working his jaw, Ben nodded. “Yeah, a little.”

  “Good!”

  He laughed. Even now, while he felt savage with lust, she amused him. “Witch.” A knock sounded on his bedroom door, making Sierra jump and stare at it with renewed alarm. He patted her thigh. “Room service. Just sit tight.”

  She was still there, motionless against the headboard, the sheet clutched to her chin, when Ben returned with the tray of coffee, cream-filled doughnuts and fresh fruit.

  He sat beside her on the mattress. “Breakfast.” She didn’t move and he sighed. “Should I apologize?”

  Her brows lowered. She looked charmingly disheveled and grumpy. “Depends on what you’d apologize for.”

  He did his best not to smile, but it wasn’t easy. She delighted him in so many ways. “For taking advantage of you in your sleep, of course. Although, really, I’d only promised not to attack you during the night and it is morning.” He winked. “You didn’t think I’d be sorry for wanting you, did you? Or for tasting you, which I couldn’t resist, by the way. Or for anything from last night, or—”

  “All right!” She frowned even as she struggled with a laugh, giving him hope. Then she groaned. “God, I need coffee in the worst way if I’m expected to deal with you and . . . the stuff you do.”

  “Allow me. Cream or sugar?”

  “A lot of both.” She glanced at the clock, but it was electric and blinking from the blackout of the night before. After accepting the coffee he handed to her and indulging a long drink, she relaxed a bit. “Oh, that’s good.”

  “The morning chef makes great coffee. Doughnuts too. Here.” He handed her a Bavarian cream with chocolate frosting and watched as she juggled the coffee, her grip on the sheet, and the doughnut. One large bite and she rolled her eyes in bliss.

  Enjoying himself despite the painful erection straining his jeans, Ben speared a fat strawberry with a fork and held it to her mouth. “Open.”

  She did, moaned again, and smiled. “Breakfast in bed. I can see why people like this.”

  Lowering his voice, Ben told her, “I like pampering you.” Truth was, he liked pampering all women, but this was different. This was more than surface enjoyment. He wanted to take away the sheet and lay her down, part her thighs again then slide into her with one long thrust. He also wanted to talk to her more, and finish feeding her. And tease her and hold her.

  He wanted . . . hell, pretty much everything.

  “Uh-huh.” She gobbled down the rest of the doughnut in short order. There was nothing wrong with Sierra’s appetite. “Is there a woman alive who you don’t want to pamper?”

  Ben eyed her sticky fingers, caught her wrist and brought her hand to his mouth. “Is this a trick question?”

  “Just curious.”

  He drew her first finger into his mouth, curled his tongue around her, and sucked it clean of the sticky frosting. Sierra’s expression became arrested, her eyes wide, her mouth parting in a small oh. Within a single heartbeat, she went soft and willing.

  “Ben,” she whispered shakily.

  He had been joking about controlling her with sex, but the idea was appealing—and now, watching her this morning, he thought it might even be possible. Her eyes were dark and drowsy, her cheeks flushed. He’d done little enough to her and she was all warmed up and ready.

  It was a unique role reversal, the guy using sex to call the shots. He liked it. He liked her.

  “Ben,” she said again. She tried to retrieve her hand without spilling her coffee. Ben held on and drew her middle finger into his mouth. He sucked gently until he heard her whimper. Gaze locked with hers, he licked down her finger, prodding the sensitive skin that joined her index and middle finger with the tip of his tongue. She drew a shuddering breath. “Oh, God.”

  Her eyes closed and the half-empty cup wobbled in her hand. Ben retrieved it from her, plunking it down on the nightstand and laying her flat so he could stretch out over her. She blinked up at him.

  “Hi.” Ben bent and kissed her, slow and deep while he rubbed his erection against her belly. It wouldn’t take much for him to get off. He was so primed, she could have breathed on him and he’d come.

  Her mouth was warm from the coffee, sweet from the doughnut. Delicious because this was Sierra and with no effort on her part, she’d turned him inside out. He nibbled on her bottom lip and admitted, “It was torture watching you sleep so late.”

  “Mmm . . .” She kissed him back, her mouth moving hungrily under his. All of a sudden, she went rigid. She pressed back into the mattress and twisted to see the window—where blazing sunshine burst through. She gasped. “What do you mean, I slept late? What time is it?”

  A pulse fluttered in her throat, drawing his lips there. “Around eight-thirty or so.”

  She slid out from under him so fast Ben was left kissing air. “Sierra?”

  She lost the sheet in her flight from the b
ed. “Eight-thirty! Damn it, I knew this would happen. I knew you’d be trouble.” She glared at him, but it was so brief as to be ineffectual. Then she wailed, “Where are my clothes?”

  I knew you’d be trouble. What the hell did she mean by that? “Sierra, just slow down . . .”

  Beautifully naked, she ran around, hunting for her shorts and T-shirt while Ben took in the show. Seeing her naked in bed, flat on her back was vastly different from watching her move, seeing the flex of feminine muscles, her natural grace, and the delightful bounce of behind and breasts.

  With any luck, he’d be able to talk her back into the bed.

  “What’s your hurry? It rained all night so it’s not like you need to rush to the job. You can’t possibly plant anything when the ground is this soggy, right?” She didn’t reply, so he pointed out the obvious. “There are puddles everywhere.”

  Ignoring him, she bent at the waist, located her shorts half under a chair, and snatched them up. Ben’s heart about stopped with the peek she’d given him, but she didn’t give him time to enjoy it at all. Not bothering with underwear, she yanked the shorts on and tied the drawstring tightly with jerky movements.

  “I was supposed to meet Kent this morning. He’ll be frantic worrying about me.”

  Something dark and mean and sharp brought Ben slowly upright in the bed. “Kent?” He’d never in his life felt jealousy over a woman, but he had the sickening dread that this was it, gripping his guts with icy fingers, overshadowing the easy desire. “Who the fuck is Kent?”

  She scowled at him and pulled her shirt over her head. Through the material she admonished, “You have a real gutter mouth, you know that?”

  Ben watched her breasts disappear beneath soft wrinkled cotton. “Who is he, Sierra?”

  “My friend. My assistant. My . . . Ben, I’m sorry but I gotta go. Thanks for . . .” She stalled, flushed, then gave a quick shake of her head. “Well, thanks.” She rushed through to the other room, jerked the door open and headed off barefoot, her hair a tangled mess, her clothes twisted.

  Ben stepped over the minuscule panties she hadn’t put back on, and followed hot on her heels. She was bare-assed beneath her shorts, damn it, and racing off to meet another man. No way in hell.

  Luckily the desk clerk was in the back doing something and didn’t see them. Sierra went out the front door and Ben was right behind her, also barefoot, and bare-chested to boot. He’d meet Kent, and make up his own mind.

  Before Sierra could step off the walk, Ben caught her by the arm. “Wait up a minute, damn it.”

  Across the street at her lot, a solidly built man dressed in a white muscle shirt and ragged, faded jeans looked up. Even from such a distance, Ben could see he was big and muscular. The jealousy boiled.

  “Is that him?” His jaw hurt both from her kick, and the way he clenched it. But damn it, she was running from him to another guy.

  “Yes.” Sierra waved excitedly. “I’m here, Kent!”

  Wearing a suspicious frown, the big bruiser started toward them, his gaze darting between Ben and Sierra. The closer he got, the faster he moved. Sierra tried to leave Ben to meet the other man halfway, and Ben tightened his grip. “Oh no, I don’t think so.”

  She frowned up at him, her wide sexy mouth set in annoyance. “You don’t think so what?”

  The man stopped in front of them. He was older, probably in his late thirties, early forties, but he looked very fit. He had dark blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and he appeared as displeased as Ben felt.

  Good. Ben was more than ready for a confrontation.

  The man propped his hands on his hips and ignored Ben. “Sierra?”

  She again tried to tug her arm free. When Ben retained his grasp on her, she frowned at him in question. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  The man raised both brows, taking in Sierra’s sleep-rumpled appearance—and Ben’s possessive hold. To Ben, he appeared to be struggling with a grin. “What’s going on?”

  Ben tensed. “You’re Kent?”

  “That’s right.” He dismissed Ben again, and instead gave Sierra a tender look. “What the hell have you been up to, young lady?”

  She shifted and again tried to pull free of Ben. “Nothing.”

  “Yeah, right.” His tone said clearly that he didn’t believe her. “You look like you spent the night . . .” His words trailed off and very slowly, his grin won out. He even chuckled. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  At Kent’s amusement, Ben relaxed a little. Sierra didn’t. She jerked her arm fiercely, freeing herself, then shoved Ben hard in the shoulder, making him stagger. “What in the world is the matter with you?”

  Kent leaned forward, eyes alight with humor, and said with relish, “Looks like jealousy to me.”

  Ben grunted.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Sierra laughed a little too loudly. “I don’t know him well enough for him to be jealous.”

  “Is that right?” Kent looked her over again, then glanced at Ben’s shirtless chest. “By appearances, I’d say you know him plenty well.”

  “No.” Sierra flushed with guilt and cast an admonishing look at Ben that warned him to stay silent. “You don’t understand.”

  “He understands.”

  “Ben!” She elbowed him hard.

  Kent laughed again, then reached out and tweaked a tendril of Sierra’s tangled hair. “Quit mauling the poor fellow or he’s going to think you don’t like him.”

  She threw up her hands in exasperation.

  To Ben, they acted like siblings, not mere friends, not mere associates. Certainly not lovers. Kent in no way acted territorial. In fact, he seemed almost tickled that Sierra might have gotten laid.

  Why would that be?

  Curiosity replaced some of Ben’s jealousy, but not all. He’d pleasured Sierra last night, he’d held her nude body close to his, watched her sleep, but all he really knew about her was that she had a quick temper, was independent, and turned him on in a big way. “You two are well acquainted?”

  Kent said, “Mmm. You could say that. We . . .” His attention got caught by an approaching car. Ben followed his gaze and groaned.

  From the moment he’d laid eyes on Sierra, he hadn’t been able to think straight. Things had been moving way too fast—and at the same time, not fast enough to suit him. The last thing he wanted to do now was introduce her to his mother on the not-quite-proverbial morning after.

  Yet, it was already too late. Brooke Badwin parked her sporty little black Celica a few yards from where they stood, and stepped out. Her soft brown hair was in a French braid, her eyes shaded by dark sunglasses. She wore a casual white sundress and sandals.

  She looked as she always did, Ben thought, and started in surprise when Kent gave a low wolf whistle of appreciation. “Be still my heart.”

  Ben gaped at him, not quite sure how to react to that. The man was ogling his mother—but then again, at least he wasn’t ogling Sierra. What to do?

  Brooke headed toward them and Kent murmured, “Damn, she’s hot.”

  Ben choked, drawing Kent’s brief notice. Kent took in his pained expression and scowled. “You know her?”

  “Yeah.” Ben rubbed the back of his neck, a little ill at ease on several levels. “You could say that.”

  His mother finally reached them. Without hesitating, she caught Ben in a warm familiar hug, leaving him no choice but to return her embrace. He looked over her shoulder at Kent, who had gone very still, and Sierra, who looked ready to spit.

  Brooke pushed back, her hands on his bare shoulders. “Are you all right, honey? I was so worried last night but the phone lines were all down so I couldn’t call and check on you.”

  Ben put his arm around her and turned her to face his guests. Sierra now looked furious while Kent looked equal parts fascinated and abashed. Ben grinned. Oh, this was going to be entertaining.

  “Sierra, Kent, meet my mother, Brooke Badwin.”

  Kent blinked in surprise, looking her over a
gain with slow deliberation. “Is that right?”

  Sierra blushed. “Nice to meet you.”

  Ben enjoyed both their reactions. “Mom, this is Sierra and Kent. They work at the new landscaping business across the street.”

  “Oh?” Never one to miss a thing, Brooke briefly studied Sierra over her glasses. Her smile was very knowing, but then it was clear to one and all that Sierra had just gotten out of bed. Because his mother knew him well, she’d probably come to the correct conclusion that it was Ben’s bed she’d left.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too, Sierra.” Brooke transferred her gaze to Kent—and went mute.

  It wasn’t like her to stumble over an introduction, but then Kent had that intent look of a man on the make. Fighting a laugh, Ben nudged her. “You’re supposed to say, hi, Mom.”

  “Hi.”

  Bemused by the situation, Ben reached around his stupefied mother and caught Sierra’s hand. “I need a moment alone with Sierra. Why don’t you two go grab some coffee? We’ll be right back.”

  Eyes widening, Brooke said, “But . . .”

  And Kent cut her off. “Hell of an idea.”

  When they were out of earshot, Sierra strained against Ben’s hold. “Just what is so important that you have to be rude?”

  “Your panties.”

  She tripped. “My what?”

  Ben pulled her upright and kept walking. “They’re still in my room, and I can see your sweet ass through those white shorts.” He patted her butt, to emphasize his point. “My barbaric tendencies shock even me, but honey, you really need to finish dressing before you take off.”

  “Ohmigod.”

  “Yeah.” It was all Ben could do to keep from laughing. “My mom is pretty cool, and she doesn’t pry too much into my personal affairs, but I can guarantee she’ll have a few questions about you. Best to address them fully clothed, don’t you think?”

  Sierra said again, “Ohmigod.”

  Ben laughed, leaned down and kissed her. She was so amusing and stubborn and proud and sexy. Being with her was exhilarating.

  He had to keep nudging her along, she looked so dazed.