The New Rule: (The Casual Rule 2) (2 page)

Why would he send me flowers? There’s no special occasion today. We’ve been apart for a few days before when he’s traveled for work. I open the card and read the message. There are two simple words…

Why not?

Tears spring to my eyes as I hold the card close to my heart. Little things like this are why I love this man so much. His gestures are never over-the-top and grand. They’re small and quiet, like a simple bouquet of daisies and a two-word note.

Meaningful.

~o0o~

Finally, my work day is done. I poke my head in Vivian’s office.

“Good night, Vivian. I’m off for the night. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” she says, taking a quick peek over her computer screen. “Send my regards to Ben.”

“How did you know I was seeing him tonight?” Vivian doesn’t miss a thing. I know I dressed a little nicer than usual, and she caught me fixing my hair and make-up in the tiny compact mirror I keep in the side drawer of my desk several times today. Okay, I’ve been grinning like a fool all day too. Am I that transparent?

She chuckles. “Let’s just call it female intuition.”

My cheeks heat up. I know my face is bright red. I’m way too obvious.

~o0o~

My first stop is the bakery a block away from my office. I put myself in charge of dessert tonight. I wish I could go to my favorite bakery, Clara’s, around the block from my apartment in the Village. They make the best cupcakes ever created, but I don’t want to waste time going downtown just to come back to midtown. Even this quick detour is getting me antsy. I need my Ben Martin fix.

There’s a small red velvet cake behind the glass case that looks perfect. Not too filling and close enough to the cupcake family to quash my cravings. I order the cake and head out the door.

I not-so-casually stroll over to Ben’s apartment building a few blocks away. It’s more like a race-walk-dash pace. I have to see him. Now. The closer I get, the giddier I feel. It’s only been four freaking days. I need to get a grip.

“Hi, Andy.” I wave to the doorman in front of Ben’s building as I walk through the doors into the lobby. Now I have special privileges. I no longer need to have my name called down before I’m allowed in the building. When Ben made those arrangements with the doormen, I knew he was all in.

He got the best blowjob of his life that night as a thank you.

The elevator doors open to the twentieth floor and I step out. My stomach is in knots. I stand in front of apartment 2012, take a few deep breaths to steady my nerves, and ring the door bell.

I hear the sound of the top bolt unlocking then watch the doorknob slowly twist. Even after a few months of togetherness, my heart still races just watching that doorknob turn.

The door opens… And there he is—unshaven, his messy brown hair damp, sexy dark brown eyes, and barefoot in a pair of dark jeans and a tight white T-shirt.

Tall, gorgeous and mine.

Mine.

Mine.

“Hi,” I say softly, my body tingling at the sight of him.

“Hi.” He smiles, those dimples that melt me from the inside out proudly displayed on his cheeks. He tilts his head to the side and opens the door wider. “Come in.”

Chapter 2

I’m a jittery mess as I walk into his apartment. I have a massive crush on the man I’m in love with. I wonder if that’s normal. I inhale deeply as I pass him. Damn, he always smells so good… that unique scent that I secretly refer to as his “Benessence”. I knew I missed him, but now that he’s actually in front of me, I realize exactly how much.

He closes the door, takes the bakery box from my hand and places it on the table next to the coat closet. I already feel a familiar charge in the air, that electricity that crackles between us. He pivots back around with an “I-want-to-fuck-you-until-we-can’t-remember-our-names” smile playing on his lips as he faces me. That look that makes me feel all kinds of wicked... I know that look was a promise of things to come.

And I love his promises. 

Ben can turn on the sexy in a millisecond. My stomach flutters and I knot my fingers anxiously behind my back.

He steps forward, grabs my waist, and pulls me close to him. I wrap my hands around his neck, lacing my fingers together. He leans down and brushes his lips lightly across mine, never kissing me. Wrapping his arms tight around me, he inhales my hair. I close my eyes and savor his strong arms. It feels like home. That old saying is true… there really is no place like it.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, nuzzling into the crook of my neck. His voice stirs something deep inside of me, sending chills reverberating down my spine.

“Then kiss me,” I whisper.

“Missed my kisses?”

“HmmMmm, desperately.” I nod. “And that’s not all I missed,” I murmur, suggestively tilting my pelvis against him.

He smiles against my neck and kisses it. Loosening his hold on me, he leans down and kisses me. His tongue twined with mine, dancing… slowly, deeply, softly. I moan into his mouth. He tastes so good. My favorite flavor… Ben. He follows our kiss with several feather-light kisses trailing up from the side of my mouth to the tip of my nose. This man turns me into jello.

I’m a tingling mess. I don’t have to look down at my dress to know that my nipples are standing at attention. All the muscles below my waist clench and despite the apartment’s central air-conditioning, it’s suddenly sweltering.

“Better?” he asks, leaning his forehead against mine.

“Much.” I unlace my fingers, twist my wrist around and peek at my watch. “It’s 6:04. You’re two minutes late. You should have your pants off by now.”

He chuckles, shaking his head with a smirk. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

“You have no idea,” I say. I rest my hands on his chest, tracing the contours of the rock-hard muscles beneath his T-shirt. His body is my kryptonite. My lust for every solitary inch of him is beyond my control.

 God, I want him.

“You’re going to have to wait. Dinner’s just about ready.”

“Seriously? You’re making me wait? As I recall, your text this morning made specific promises. It’s past 6:02. This girl has needs only you can provide. I have a lot of pent-up frustration courtesy of
your
unreasonable request.”

I wouldn’t be nearly as desperate if I didn’t agree to and honor his no vibrator demand. That’s the last time I’m making a promise as stupid as that.

He shrugs then smiles. “I hate to break a promise, but dinner is almost done. It’s something special for you. I’ll make it up to you… after we eat. Besides, the anticipation will make it better. Think about how good it’s going to be… the waiting, the wanting… until we finally give in.” He kisses my cheek, grabs the bakery box off the table, and walks toward the kitchen.

“Or we could say screw the anticipation and screw each other,” I call out to him.

He laughs as he continues to walk toward the kitchen waving his hand dismissively.

“Hey, I wasn’t kidding. I’m suffering from babe balls, pink balls—oh, I don’t know what the hell you call them. I have female blue balls, and it’s your fault. You need to rectify this.”

He stops and turns to me. “Female blue balls? Julia, if you think you have balls, we need to talk,” he teases.

“Shut up. Having no outlet has rendered me horny and stupid for days. See what you’ve done to me… you’ve dumbed me down.”

“All this talk about you having balls isn’t exactly turning me on.”

“You think man balls are a turn-on to women? Trust me, they’re not attractive but I still have sex with you. Come on, don’t be stingy. Give up the goods. I’ll even take a quickie.”

He shakes his head and walks into the kitchen, ignoring my sex pleas. How the hell can he be so blasé? I’m ready to pounce him, and he’s putting me off.

That smug bastard better not have been spanking the monkey while I was stuck home alone, staring at my nightstand, praying BOB would magically fly out of the drawer and land on my crotch.

My erect nipples and I follow him to the kitchen. The aroma of dinner wafting in the air is lessening my frustration as I realize how hungry I am. It smells good in here, an intriguing blend of Benessence and food.

“Why don’t you grab two beers out of the fridge? They’ll pair better with dinner. Relax in the other room. I’ll be a few minutes.”

“Something pairs with beer? What are you making?”

“Surprise. Go… or I’ll hold out longer.” He lifts a brow and leans back against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest, his muscles bulging from his biceps.

Damn, he’s brought out the guns. I’m doomed. Might as well wave the white flag, fall to my knees, and service him now. It’s time for me to counter his sexy with some of my own. I casually saunter over to him, pressing my body against his.

“It’s been four days, Ben. That’s a long, long time not to have any kind of… release.” I rub my crotch against his leg.
I hope he finds that sexy and doesn’t think I’m scratching a yeast infection.
“It’s a scientific fact that men are ruled by their dicks. We both know you’ll crumble,” I whisper seductively, gliding the back of my hand against his cheek.

Okay, this was a slight error in judgment, there’s something about the coarseness of his stubble that turns me on.

He inhales deeply.
Good, my seduction scheme is working
.

“Scientific fact? We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we? You know I love a challenge,” he says with a playful grin.

“Game on,” I purr, as I not-so-innocently rub my breasts against his chest. I catch him peeking down my dress. I know he’s checking out my cleavage. I lean back a little to allow him a clearer view. I straighten myself out and take a quick glance at his groin to see if his arousal has presented itself. I think I see a little movement. Yes, I’m pretty certain there was some dick twitching.

I’m not entirely confident, but I’m going to give myself that small victory. I’ll make him crumble yet. I grab two beers and make my way to the living room.

“Dining room or coffee table?” he calls out from the kitchen.

“Coffee table,” I answer back. If we’re sitting on the floor while we eat, I can pull him on top of me. We can speed things along and screw right here.

Time management techniques for the sexually frustrated—I should write a book.

I place the two beers down on two coasters. God forbid I don’t use a coaster at Ben’s place. While I wait for him to finish with dinner, I might as well make the best of this downtime.

“I’ll be right back,” I yell over to the kitchen. Ben thinks I’m using his bathroom. The truth is whenever I can; I sneak into his Coin Shrine, the room where he keeps his nerdy coin collection. Recently, he started using this room to write in as well. When I get the opportunity, I snoop through his laptop files to read what he’s currently writing.

I know this is intrusive, and I shouldn’t do this… blah, blah, blah… But as his editor I have to establish that he’s moving in the right direction. If I can subtly make suggestions to guide him, without giving myself up, all the less work for me later when he actually forwards his work to Wisteria. There’s less chance of a disagreement between us that will send Ben off brooding.

Quietly, I sneak into the coin room and lift the cover to his laptop sitting on his desk. He really should password protect his documents to prevent nosey people like me from accessing his work at will. But hey, I’m not complaining.

I like to think of this as Ben subconsciously extending an invitation to snoop, and my RSVP is a resounding “Hell, yeah. One meddling girlfriend, no guests”.

He’s working on chapter five of his work in progress… a book about baseball stadiums, old and new. I’ve convinced him to include a chapter on stadium food because it’s food, and everybody loves food, especially stadium hot dogs.

After skimming through the first few paragraphs, I notice some of his writing seems a little stiff. It’s too factual. He has to liven this up a little bit. There are a few sentences that need some tightening too. Vivian is never going to accept this. This is probably his first draft. First drafts are notoriously crap.

I continue to skim through the rest of the text quickly. Dammit, ‘pastime’ is misspelled—there’s an extra “t”. Doesn’t he see the little red line under it? The damn computer is telling him to fix it. How the hell can he just ignore that? My index finger hovers over the delete button. Will he know if I corrected it? The jig will be up if he figures it out. I don’t want to get caught snooping… but this extra “t” is driving me crazy.

I close my eyes and hit the delete button then save it. That’s better.

I better get my snooping ass out of here before I’m caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Anyway, I want to get back to my personal favorite pastime, Ben. Carefully, I close the laptop, tiptoe out of the coin room and walk back into the living room, sitting on the floor behind the coffee table. I lean back against the leather couch, take off my watch and throw it on the table, and wait for dinner.

Ben walks in with two plates and places them on the table. I look down and laugh.

“Hot dogs?”

“Not just any hot dogs. These are stadium hot dogs; from two different ballparks. I had them flown up from two of the parks I visited in Florida.”

I shake my head and laugh. “How did you manage this?”

“A lot of coordination and a little bit of magic.”

“Let me guess; you convinced some adoring woman who saw your dimples and fell under the Ben Martin lust spell to help you out.”

“There was a very nice young woman who helped me out in Miami… but it was a man who got the ball rolling in Tampa Bay.”

“Was he gay?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “He did give me his private cell phone number.”

“Figures.” I roll my eyes then direct my attention back to our dinner. “You know, most boyfriends bring a little trinket back to their girlfriends when they go away: jewelry or some touristy crap from the airport’s duty-free shop. I should have known you’d go a different route.”

“I know food is the key to your heart. I want to make sure I keep it.”