The Street Where She Lives Read online

  Maybe they’d…done it. Ewww! But realistically, they’d already done it at least once, she was living proof. Torn between disgust and hope, she grabbed her laptop and the puppy before she heard something she didn’t want to, and took herself inside to give them privacy.

  With renewed hope, she sat at her desk to work out her next move in her plan of attack of making them fall in love.

  WITH NO IDEA her daughter sat just below her planning on a miracle Rachel couldn’t imagine, she was enjoying the sunset on her bedroom balcony. She sat on a lounge chair, wishing she had the energy to go get a pad and her pencils to capture some of the beauty before her.

  Then a deep voice from the shadows said, “Not a bad sunset, for a city offering.”

  She laughed even as she felt a catch in her chest. Looking up, she found Ben propped up against the double French doors of her bedroom, just watching her. “That’s why we have smog and pollution, to give such brilliant color to our sunsets. Just for you, Ben.”

  He grinned at her.

  Her heart fluttered. “What are you doing?”

  Pushing away from the doors, he came toward her in his easy, graceful, confident walk, the one that always reminded her of how comfortable he was in his own skin.

  What she would give to be half that comfortable.

  “What am I doing?” he repeated thoughtfully, sitting next to her even though there wasn’t really room for the both of them. It left her plastered to him thigh to thigh, arm to arm, intensifying the connection between them.

  “I guess I’m just being,” he said. “With you.”

  In the past, when they’d been young and full of lustful hormones, there had been no just…sitting and being. He’d always had his hands on her, and though it had been a new and frankly terrifying experience sharing such easy affection, she’d grown quite dependent on it.

  In the years since, she hadn’t allowed herself much of that. When Ben had first showed up on her doorstep again, she’d felt the jolt of awareness all the way to her bandaged toes, and had wondered how she’d ever manage to ignore him and his blatant sexuality.

  They were older now, and supposedly far more mature than they’d been at seventeen, so one would think it would be easier. After all, they’d decided there could be nothing between them, and certainly they could control themselves.

  But here in the dark, on a warm, tempting late-spring night, with the stars far above and the city lights around them, with his warm strength and familiar scent…God, she needed. She needed him. “Just sitting, just being, is a bad idea,” she whispered. “You know that.”

  “Yeah.” The chair squeaked as he leaned in, touched her face. Stroked his thumb over her lower lip and started a set of delicious shivers racing down her spine. “But being here with you is making me want in a way I haven’t in a good long time. Since you, actually.”

  She laughed. “Don’t tell me there’s been no other women.”

  His thumb covered both her lips now, halting her words. His soft, wry chuckle brushed over her cheek. “Do you really want to talk about other women? Now?”

  Through the dark she met his eyes. He’d shifted closer, with a hand on either side of her, so that she felt surrounded by him. And liking it. Thinking about him doing this with someone else was a problem. She shouldn’t care, she knew that. It had been a long, long time, and someone as naturally sensual as Ben would never have gone a year without a physical connection, much less thirteen. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to talk about other women.”

  In the dark, he smiled, slow and long. “Good, because there’s not room in my head for anyone but you.” He nudged even closer. “Right here…with you.” His mouth nuzzled along her throat. “What do you think?”

  “Think?” With his hands gliding up her body, his mouth making its way toward hers… “I can’t think.”

  “Because I’m touching you?”

  “Yes.” She had no idea why, but she lifted her face and covered his mouth with hers, swallowing his surprised inhale, sighing with pleasure as he hauled her against him.

  Then he surged to his feet, and her world tilted. Gasping, she threw her arms around his neck for balance. “What are you doing?”

  “Finishing what you just started.” He kicked the French doors shut behind them and set her on the floor next to her bed. “Be sure, Rach.” He waited, quivering with barely restrained control as he let her make the decision.

  The power of that made her dizzy. “Ben—”

  He put his finger to her lips. “Yes, or no.”

  She stared up at him, feeling as if she stood on the very edge of a deep cliff. Jumping, even with a parachute, would be bad. But not jumping, not living, was no choice at all. “Yes,” she whispered, and reached for him.

  The only light in the room came from the sun just sinking below the horizon. Long shadows slanted across the floor and bed. Ben took her face in his hands and tilted it up. Then he kissed her, stealing what little air she had left in her lungs. His mouth felt as firm as the rest of him, and just as sexy, as giving…as male. Everything within her trembled, and she clutched at him for support. She could feel his heat, his strength, and it was so familiar and yet so new, her heart skipped a beat. By the time he lifted his head and looked at her, she was a goner. Being in his arms like this was both heaven and hell. Yes, there were a hundred reasons this was a bad idea, a thousand, but as he sank his fingers into her hair and lowered his face again, she couldn’t think of a single one, could think of nothing but more, please more.

  “What’s under the robe?” he asked hoarsely, nuzzling at the opening at her neck.

  “Uh…” As his mouth made its way to her shoulder, nudging off the robe as he went, she struggled to put a thought together. “Not much.”

  “Not much is good,” he whispered reverently, and slid his hands inside, parting the tie, letting the thing fall open. With characteristic bluntness, he looked his fill, which suddenly made her want to squirm. She knew what she looked like, still a little too thin, scarred…and unlike him, far from perfect. “Ben—”

  “Oh, Rach, I’ve missed this body, I’ve missed you.” With those stunning words, he lowered his head, splayed his hands wide across her bare back, urging her closer, and opened his mouth on a breast.

  Shocked at the immediate clutching of her body to his, at how she felt as if she was burning up from the inside out, she could only hold on. She hadn’t felt this flash of heat and need and desperation in thirteen long years, an eternity. Far in the back of her mind, she heard the horrifyingly hungry whimpers she let out as he nibbled at her, but couldn’t help herself—she was on fire, shaking, and completely incapable of doing anything but letting him have his way with her. Have his way, he did, teasing a nipple with his teeth, tormenting between her thighs with his fingers, until she would have slid to a heap on the floor if he hadn’t caught her up in his arms. Setting her on the bed, he held her gaze while he tossed her robe over his shoulders.

  For the briefest moment, self-consciousness again began to clear the sexual haze he’d spun around her, but then he began to undress, and my, oh my, he was magnificent. Rough, sinewy arms, broad chest, powerful thighs…and between them, he was hard and heavy. For her.

  Tossing his pants aside, he caught her looking, and must have mistaken her wide-eyed look of wonder for misgivings or horror because he let out a rough laugh. “Hey, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

  “It’s…been a long time.”

  “Yeah.” He put a knee on the bed, leaned over her. “But it’s just me.”

  Just him. The only man to ever make her feel as if she would die if he didn’t kiss her, touch her. “Ben…”

  “No regrets,” he murmured, and bent close enough to glide his lips over hers. “No recriminations, no dwelling, no thinking.” He ran his hands down her arms, linked their fingers on either side of her head as he settled himself between her thighs, which opened for him of their own accord. There was no mistaking his er