His Pretend Girl (4 page)

Why, oh why had I drunk so much? And what genius had thought it a good idea to schedule the Christmas party for a Thursday night?

Even though I had dark glasses on, the brilliance of the sunshine made me want to throw up again. I slunk along, head down, keeping in the shade of the tall buildings. It had been bad enough riding the Mag-Line today, but walking to the office made me want to curl up and die. I would never drink again.

Already an hour late, I wasted another ten minutes queuing at the coffee cart for a giant Americano with lots of sugar. The inflatable Santa grinned down at me, and I feigned interest in my switched-off phone to avoid any need for conversation with the barista.

One day. That was all I had to get through. One team meeting—
oh, God, with Ben
—and then clearing up all the leftover bits of work, before I flew back to Emerald City. If I worked really hard and fast, I might get out of there by early afternoon. Yeah right. I could barely walk straight. I gulped at the coffee and nearly scalded my mouth, and then tripped over nothing and spilled the hot liquid down my shirt. Great.

Taking a deep breath as I left the elevator, I lifted my head high and tried to pretend I was fine. A cluster of people hung around the water cooler, and I saw Clint thumping the candy machine.

Jacques stood next to my desk, yawning and scratching his belly. “There you are.”

I froze at his words.
Stay cool
. My feet were glued to the floor. “What?”

He yawned again. “The team meeting’s been rescheduled for this afternoon. I tried to call you, but you weren’t picking up.” He stared at me and narrowed his eyes. I tried not to fidget. “Last night,” he began, and then hesitated.

“What?” I repeated, my voice an octave higher.

“Yeah. Last night.” Admiration crept into his face. “You looked hot.”

My cheeks burned, and I ducked my head.
That
I hadn’t been expecting. “Umm, thanks,” I mumbled, before dumping my bag on the desk. My head felt as though someone was playing a set of bongos inside it, and I needed to sit down before I fell over. Clutching my coffee as a lifeline, and still with my shades in place, I scanned the office for signs of Ben. Not there.

“If you wanna go for a drink tonight, gimme a shout.” Jacques leaned on my desk. “We could hit a club.”

I shook my head and regretted it instantly. “Umm, thanks, but I’ll pass.” He showed no signs of moving, and in desperation, I faked an incoming phone call. “I have to take this call.” He nodded and ambled toward Clint, who was now cursing the candy machine.

Next to pass my desk were Jill and Sherry. “Hey, Dorothy.” Sherry sounded awkward. “I just wondered if you and Ben were… You know.”

My stomach shriveled, and I tightened my fingers around the coffee cup. “Me and Ben?” It came out as a squeak.

“Yeah. An item.”

I wanted to laugh hysterically.
I didn’t think so, but then he asked me out, only I got stupidly drunk, and now he’ll never want to see me again.
“Umm… Has he said something?”

Before she could answer, someone else arrived and took a perch on the edge of my desk.
Matthew
. “Dolly.” He gazed at my hair and reached out to gently tug a lock. I snatched my head back, and wanted to moan at the resulting surge of pain. “This is cute.”

He thought my haircut was
cute
. Ben thought I was beautiful.

“Don’t suppose you fancy going for a coffee?” What? Was he asking me for a date? Now? Matthew glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting in ten, and I’d love you forever if you fetched me an Americano.” He mistook my silence for acquiescence, and winked. “Blueberry muffin too, if they have one. Thanks, Doll.”

He strode away, and I stared at his back. That’s all I’d been to him. Someone to fetch his coffee. I’d spent a year fetching and carrying for him. Not any longer.

Jill and Sherry were still there, gazing at Matthew as he worked his way through the office. “He’s gorgeous,” murmured Jill. “I’ll get the coffee, if you like? Seeing as you’ve already been?”

It was only when they walked away that I realized we never finished the conversation about Ben. Who still hadn’t arrived.

I buried myself in work, tying up loose ends and closing down files ready for the end of year audit. That was the plan, anyway. Most of the time was spent staring at my schedule and waiting for Ben to arrive. Every minute that passed tied my nervous stomach into ever-tighter knots. My phone stayed off, and if I could’ve escaped to work on a different floor, I would have.

Finally, I heard him greet Clint and Jacques. I kept my head down, faking another phone call. I was getting good at that. He lurked nearby, but I pretended I didn’t know he was there, and carried on mumbling into my phone, while gazing at my screen. Jesus. I was such a coward. I’d been intimate with him, for heaven’s sake. We’d kissed. Quite possibly slept together. And now I couldn’t face him. What level of hideous mistake had it been?

My schedule pinged to warn me of the team meeting, and I grabbed my tablet and headed down the corridor, still pretending to be on a call.

“Dorothy.” Ben caught up easily and walked alongside me. How did he manage to look so bright and cheerful? I was perilously close to throwing up again. I gestured to my phone, and he nodded. “Later,” he mouthed.

The meeting was yet another circle of hell. Ben sat opposite me, concern visible in his eyes, and he covered for me, answering the questions I couldn’t concentrate on. Somehow I limped to the end of the session, every cell in my body urging me to flee.

My exit was blocked by Ben.

“I’m taking you to lunch,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Ben strolled beside me to a nearby café, one with a gorgeous view of the waterfront. Thank all the gods, he managed to grab a table out of direct sunlight.

“Dorothy. You feeling okay, sweetheart?” He tugged out a chair for me, and waited until I sat before he sank into his own seat. The corners of his lips tilted up, as though he was trying hard not to laugh. “I’ve never seen you drunk before. I guess you’re not used to hangovers?”

“No.”

“You need plenty of water. And let me order you a smoothie.” He picked up the menu and scanned the options without missing a beat. “Have you eaten?”

“No.” I didn’t like the whiny tone in my voice, but if he noticed, he didn’t show it. He just nodded and continued to read the menu, one finger running down the options, before tapping the datapad to make his selection.

His dark eyes gazed at me, and my cheeks heated under his scrutiny. I’d kept my shades on, but they didn’t offer much protection. I felt he could see right through them.

“So.” He played with the cutlery in front of him. “I guess we should talk about last night.” My mouth dried to the point where I couldn’t speak, even if I wanted to. Ben cleared his throat, and then rubbed at his chin.

Christ, this was as hideous as I’d feared.

“I want to apologize.” His gaze searched my face. “For behaving like a giant asshole last night, and then for running out on you. I really should have stayed.”

Stayed in my bed?
I tried to swallow around the lump that had materialized in my throat. I had to speak. “Last night.” I stopped, my words all tangled together. “Did we, umm, you know…?”

His fingers stilled on the cutlery, and his eyes opened wide. “You don’t remember?”

I shook my head and immediately regretted it, when the headache started up again.

“Wow.” Ben sat back in his chair, his expression unreadable. Was he trying to be polite? “I guess I’m kinda offended.”

Holy fuck.
We must have. I bit down on my lip, hard, and tried to sit quietly. I wanted to slap my hands over my ears and chant “no, no, no,” but the damage was done. Ben’s smile looked forced, and he clung to the spoon so tightly, his knuckles showed white against his skin. If I felt humiliated, how must he feel? I tried to pull air into my tight lungs, and braced myself for standing up again. I had to get out of here. This was even worse than last night. That had already been high on the fucked-up-ness scale, but
this
was into triple figures.

Hot tears pressed against the backs of my eyes, and I was glad for the sunglasses. “I was pretty out of it.” A whisper was all I could manage. My hands hurt, and when I glanced down, I realized I’d dug my nails into my palms.

“Dorothy.” I looked up to see Ben taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Do you really think I’d have sex with you while you’re comatose? Thanks.”

What? Something simmered in his eyes. Anger or disappointment, I couldn’t be sure. I replayed his words in my head. “We didn’t?”

He huffed a soft noise, but it didn’t sound like laughter. “No,” he bit out. “We didn’t.”

The tightness in my chest eased a little, but I still had no idea what to say. Nothing would redeem this situation, but I had to try. I’d hurt him; I could see that. “I’m sorry,” I offered.

Ben shrugged. “Yeah, me too.”

My stupid words had opened a chasm between us. The longer we sat there, silent and embarrassed, the wider the gap stretched. Soon there would be no way to bridge it, and I panicked. This was down to me. I’d messed up, and I had to fix it.

“I wanted to.” I blurted out the words, and now that I’d found my voice, I couldn’t shut up. “I was going to ask you to stay, only I got nervous. And I really shouldn’t have opened that wine. And then I was, well, sick. I can only remember bits.” Another flash of me tossing my bra to the floor made my cheeks burn. “And now you hate me.”

The waitress arrived then with a tray of food. She couldn’t have missed my words, but she just slid the dishes onto the table and smiled at Ben. “Was there anything else?”

“That’s all. Thanks.”

The polite little interchange gave me time to regroup. I’d said too much.
Done
too much. “I’d better go.”

“No.” Ben’s voice was urgent. “Please don’t.” He scrubbed his hands across his face, and then replaced his glasses. “I’ve got an idea.”

I didn’t say anything, but I didn’t get up either, and he gave me a tentative smile. “Let’s start again. Pretend last night didn’t happen. We didn’t go to the party, and I didn’t trick you about Matthew.”

“I didn’t get drunk?”

“Nope, you didn’t.” He paused. “We decided to meet today and go on a date after work.”

My feet still hurt from the red shoes, and the last thing I felt like doing was going for a drink. “What kind of date?”

He shrugged, the smile still teasing at his lips. “A first date. Maybe an art gallery or a walk on the beach. Or a movie.” His nose twitched. “Something to eat.”

I looked at the food he’d ordered. Crispy bacon, French toast, and perfectly poached eggs. My stomach grumbled and reminded me I hadn’t eaten in what felt like forever. A tall glass held a fragrant banana smoothie, and there were two large mugs of coffee.

A date.
Could I do this? “We could start here?”

Ben let out a whoosh of breath and the smile grew. “Yes. Why don’t we start here?”

I’d been to the movies frequently in my year in Wellington, but never like this. Not with Ben holding my hand as we walked in, and then slipping his arm around my shoulder once we were settled on the couches. It was still almost daylight when we came out, and thanks to the copious amounts of water Ben had made me drink, I felt capable of a walk along the beach when he took me home.

This time, we splashed gently through the shallows. What a difference a day had made. Tonight would be different. I’d ask him to stay, and we’d spend the night together. I had it all planned out, and when Ben gave me a kiss that made my toes curl in anticipation, I held him close. We stood on the doorstep to my house. Surely he wouldn’t leave this time?

“I could, umm, stay tonight, if you like?”

“
Ben
.” I made myself sound shocked. “What if I said I don’t put out on a first date?”

“Oh.” His lips twitched. “When do you go home?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

He nuzzled the shell of my ear, a place I’d never thought to describe as an erogenous zone before now. “But you are coming back, aren’t you?”

“That’s the plan.” I stole a kiss. “I’m going to be away for two weeks. I’ll miss you.”

His arms tightened around me. “I’ll miss you too, sweetheart.”

Sliding my fingers across the softness of his shirt, I nuzzled his chin. “I might feel different about putting out on a second date.”

“Hmm. Are you asking if I’m free tomorrow?”

“Nope. This
is
our second date. We had brunch, and then the movies.
Two
dates.”

“Well, that’s an interesting proposal.” There was enough light left to see the way his eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “I’d need to do some rigorous testing to be sure.”

I gazed at him in delight. This was a conversation we had regularly at work. “How long do you need? For testing?”

He traced a finger down my cheek, to my chin, and then up to rest against my lips. “That’s a tricky one. It could take some time.”

“How long?” I whispered.

“All night?”

Excitement unfurled in my chest and robbed the air from my lungs. I meant to say something smart, come up with a witty comeback to make him smile, but I could only feast my eyes on him and try not to grin like a simpleton. Pretty sure I failed that.

Actions speak louder than words.
Disentangling from his arms, I slipped one hand in his and tugged him up the steps. I already had the key in my pocket, and it was the work of moments to open the door and lead him over the doorstep. “This testing you want to do?” I moved back into his embrace once the door was closed. Strange how I’d been so nervous the night before, but now it felt right. “Where do you want to start?”

“I love it when you talk geek.” He gave me the endearing smile I’d seen so often. “Are you sure about this, Dorothy?”

“God, yes.”

His lips were soft, his arms strong, and his chest firm. I reveled in the feel of his body, the different textures, and the gentleness with which he held me. The tender look in his eyes made me feel wanted, in a way I’d never known before.

We moved into the living room, and I fully expected things to speed up. My previous boyfriends—not that there’d been many—liked to get down and dirty as fast as possible. Ben, it seemed, was different. We spent an age just kissing, although really, that was too tame a word. With one hand on the back of my neck and one around my hip, he kept me at the perfect angle to worship my mouth. Teasing me.

I grew impatient and fumbled at the buttons on his shirt, only to have him still my hands.

“Testing,” he murmured, “is in progress, and you can’t interrupt my plan.”

“What comes next?” It came out as a whisper, and he smiled in reply. If he didn’t touch me soon, I’d melt into a puddle of goo.

“I need to unpick the code.” He stroked a gentle finger along the round neckline of my T-shirt. “Piece by piece.”

I dragged my shirt over my head and dropped it onto the floor. Standing there in my bra, I could have felt nervous, but Ben’s happy sigh spoke volumes.

He tangled our fingers together and walked me to the sofa, punctuating each step with a kiss. “I intend to take my time.”
Kiss
. “I’ve waited a long time for this, Dorothy.”
Kiss
.

He pressed his lips to my stomach, the sensitive skin at the base of my throat, the back of my neck. It was utterly delicious. Standing behind me, he slid one bra strap down my shoulder, and laid a trail of kisses in its place. I clutched at him, but he wouldn’t be hurried. Every touch lit a new fire inside me.

The daylight was completely gone now, and the only illumination came from a single lamp on the side table. The blinds were open, and I could see moonlight playing over the sea in the distance, ghostly and beautiful. I’d never forget this moment. No matter how it played out with Ben, I’d always have this. As though he recognized I’d drifted away, he nipped at my shoulder. I whimpered in pleasure.

His hands rested on my denim-clad hips, warm and sure, holding me steady. “There’s something I always wanted to do.” His whisper vibrated against my skin, hot breath stoking the inferno at my core.

It was a struggle to speak. “What?”

“Whenever I come here, I admire the view from this window.” It was the reason I rented this particular house and tolerated the longer-than-usual commute to work. “And tonight, it looks even more amazing.”

“Why?”

He chuckled, and flattened one hand on my bare stomach, a ripple of lust following in its wake. “Do you really need to ask?”
Kiss
. “Because you’re in my arms, sweetheart.”

His ragged words echoed my thoughts, and I had to say something. Ben was busy with my other bra strap. I gasped when he pressed his lips to my neck again. It was divine. “Ben.” The words all jumbled up in my mouth, and it took a moment to separate them. With every minute that passed, he scrambled my brain a little further. “Let’s do it here.”

He stilled for a heartbeat, and then groaned against my skin. “Oh fuck. You must be a mind-reader, Dorothy. Just what I was thinking about. That would fulfill a whole load of my fantasies, all in one go.”

Ben had fantasies about me? Lust flooded my veins, and I could think of nothing else. My breasts ached for his touch, and my stomach had so many butterflies fluttering around, I’m surprised he couldn’t feel them.

His hand pressed against my belly, warm and dry, and slowly slid down, to dip under the waistband of my jeans, and then up again. The breath caught in my throat. “You want to make love here, against the window?” Ben’s hard-on nudged me, his voice stumbling over the words.

“Yes.”

He let out a long breath. “Christ, Dorothy, you make me feel like I’m sixteen again. I want you so much, I can’t think straight.” Finally, he unfastened my bra, and it fell to the floor. Cool air was replaced a heartbeat later with his hands closing around my breasts. My nipples hardened, hyper-sensitive and begging for his touch.

“Do you trust me, sweetheart?”

Odd question, but there was no hesitation on my part. “Yes.”

His breath hitched at my rapid answer. “Open the blinds. Put your hands on the glass and keep them there. Let me look after you.”

From the day I’d met him, from our first early friendship, Ben had always looked after me. His earlier words sank in.
Make love to me
. Other boyfriends had fucked, and screwed. None had made love. My heart, already tripping along, took off at a full gallop.

The window glass was cold underneath my palms, but everywhere else burned. I was melting for Ben. I knew my panties were soaked, and he’d find out when he got there. He nibbled on my ears some more, and then finally brushed my nipples. Electricity arced through me, as though I’d shoved my fingers into a live socket. I cried out. Cupping the weight of my breasts in his hands, he drew circles around the tight buds with his thumbs. I nearly fell apart. The combination of his hands, and his mouth on my neck, was driving me insane.

“Please,” I whispered, unsure what I asked for. When had my breasts become so responsive?

Since Ben touched me.

An age later, when I was on the verge of begging, he snapped open my jeans and eased them down my legs, to pool around my ankles. “You look so beautiful.” He nuzzled my hair. “I can see your reflection in the glass and my hands on you.”

The windows were coated so nobody could see in, but even if they’d been plain glass, I would do this with Ben. The realization I’d follow him anywhere was staggering. All the time we’d wasted.

My thoughts shattered, when he cupped my wet panties and groaned. “Fuck.”

“Yes, please.”

“Christ and all the saints, you’re soaking.”

I wanted to speak, but I knew it would come out garbled, so I whimpered instead. He took pity on me and tugged at my panties, dragging them down to join my jeans. I stood there, naked and burning up, and focused on one thing only. Getting Ben inside me.

His breath hitched, and his hard-on bumped me, the denim coarse against my skin. His fingers skirted around my pussy. “Oh, baby.” He sounded in pain. I knew how he felt.

Slick with my wetness, he pushed one finger inside me with ease. Raw pleasure hit with a jolt so fierce, my knees trembled. A second digit followed, and he pumped in and out, his breath rasping on my neck. “I need a condom.”

I forced myself to think straight. “Do you have one?”

“I think so.” He eased back, finger still buried inside me, and dug into a pocket. “Yes.”

“Now, Ben. Please don’t make me wait.”

“Hang on.” He slid his fingers free, and I moaned at the loss, then squirmed when he sank his teeth into the base of my neck. “Your skin feels like a peach,” he said. “I want to eat you all up.”

I heard foil ripping, and his zipper opening. I’d enjoy his body later, and tease him to distraction. Now though, I needed him.

“Lean forward a bit.” He guided me with his hands. “And open your legs wider, baby.”

Excitement surged in my gut, when I felt the blunt head of his dick glide over my pussy lips. I’d probably come the second he entered me.

I didn’t, but it was close. He filled me in one push. Every nerve ending burst into life, and I think I cried his name, but I can’t be sure. My entire being, all my focus, concentrated on the spot where our bodies joined. I was drowning in pleasure. Every thrust, every kiss, every stroke, they all added up to one single fact—my body was wired for Ben’s touch. I existed in some parallel dimension, blind and mute, and unthinking. I just felt.

Ben whispered my name, and I dragged a breath into my lungs, but couldn’t reply. “Oh, fuck, Dorothy.” He pumped harder, faster, his breathing erratic. “I can’t hold back.”

I perched on the edge of a life-changing climax, my stomach tied up in knots, and my insides taut as a bowstring. When Ben found my clit and rubbed it in time to his rhythm, it finished me. I cried out, my back arching and my knees turning to jelly, as I fell apart. Lights flashed before my eyes, and I soared, higher than ever before.

Behind me, Ben made an inarticulate sound and tensed, his entire body stiffening.

“Holy fuck.” He held still inside me, as the final ripples cascaded, and then set off another mini climax. “Fuck,” he repeated.

I found my tongue. “I think we just did.”