Page 139 of My Heart Still Beats
Ben
God, her lips.
As soft and sweet as I remember. Even more so. My cock responds, aching in my jeans.
I pull back, ending the kiss before it even starts.
Tessa widens her eyes, her lips still parted and glistening from the kiss.
She looks beautiful. She’s dressed in a sky blue tank top that hugs her curves—and her nipples are hard against the fabric.
Her feet are bare, and it’s incredibly erotic.
I want to throw her up against the wall and fuck her into it. I want to fuck her in the shower, on the couch, on the dining table, on the kitchen counter, on her bed, on the floor, against the wall. Especially after the day I’ve had.
But I can’t. I have to behave myself. I have to do this thing right.
“Sorry,” I say.
She pulls away, smiling. “I don’t think I was complaining.”
“I had a shitty afternoon, Tessa, but that’s not your fault.” He caresses my cheek. “I should have come in, said hello first.”
“I’m sorry you had a bad afternoon.” She hugs me and presses her cheek to my chest. It feels so good, so comforting, and so… “You want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.” I inhale. “Something smells amazing in here.”
She waves toward her small kitchen. “I know we just had Mexican food yesterday at my father’s funeral, but I felt like cooking my mother’s recipes. Which is odd, because I’m not a cook and haven’t made anything for myself since…well, before Garrett.”
I hold back a wince at her mention of Garrett. I’ll have to pay a visit to the little leech, make sure he and Dirk’s brother stay far away from my woman.
My woman?
My God…
I’ve only kissed her, and now she’s my woman?
I’m fucked in the head. So fucked in the head that I’ll protect her at all costs. I’ll bulldoze Boston to the ground if I have to.
Fuck. I rake my fingers through my hair. I’ve never felt this way about any woman before. Hell, I’ve never felt this way about anyonebefore.
I breathe in. “I love Mexican food. I can eat it seven days a week.”
“I’m glad, because I made it from my favorite of my mother’s recipes. Cheese enchiladas with homemade red sauce.”
I inhale again. “It smells amazing.”
“Come in. I’ve got some chips and salsa set out. And I made margaritas.”
I can’t help smiling at her. Not my favorite, but for Tessa I’ll happily drink battery acid.
“I know it’s not Wild Turkey but—”
“Tessa, a margarita sounds delicious. Normally I don’t go for the sweeter drinks, but with Mexican food, it feels right.”
“I haven’t made margaritas in a long time.” Her lips tremble slightly. “I haven’t drunk a margarita in a long time.”
“You told me it’s your favorite drink.”
