Until November

Chapter 23

Jocelyn 

It is soooooo early. Sighing, my face settles against a soft, warm surface. My legs are entwined in the sheets. The blanket traps cozy heat against my back. Breathing in and out, more contented than I have been since giving birth. I must have actually slept more than four hours. More than...My hand opens and splays on the smooth, hard plane of—my eyes fly open.

Ben. 

He is in my bed. My cheek is pressed against his abs and my hand is half up his shirt. He shifts beneath me, his hand running down my back. I lift my head slowly, less than an inch. His eyes are closed. His mouth is tight until my knee accidentally flattens into his inner thigh and he shifts, pressing his leg into me and sending sharp heat between my legs, riding up my core, straight to my nipples. 

If I move, he'll wake up. He'll find us like this in my most personal of all personal space. I press my cheek against his middle, breathing over the slice of golden skin where his shirt bunches. The scent of morning on him entices me, coating my inhales with flutters. His hand moves against my back again. My breath stills. I'm waiting and wanting. Ben's fingers prod against my skin. More pressure now...A rugged inhale leaves his mouth. He's awake. I'm awake. Both of us aware.

Awareness floods me. The air around us swells where our bodies touch. Ben's abs, his muscled legs, heat coils tightly in my belly. Impulsive need shoots through my damp center already wet for him. The tented sheet is mere inches from my mouth. Thick, heavy want seeps within my chest, my clit, my tongue. It spreads and takes over until I give in, imagining what he looks like naked. What my hands would look like touching him.

The reasons why I should stop roll in. Squishy parts of my skin. Stretch marks. I am not fully healed. Most likely, I smell like baby spit-up. Best to get out of this before I get an idea in my head that there's more to our constant small touches. Pushing back the covers carefully, I move off him. Almost accomplishing that, but Ben's hand clamps on my wrist.

My gaze whips to his sharp gaze and amused grin. It's one of his looks I never get enough of. "Good morning, Jocelyn." 

"Good morning, Ben."

"Your bed was all I thought it could be," he says with his Ben-infused confidence. 

"You're completely violating my space," I gripe, stalling. I'm okay with anything at this point, for the record. My nipples are so hard against him. My knee slips up an inch. A peek at the baby monitor confirms Noelle is still sleeping. Why isn't she awake? She's usually great a crashing a party. 

Ben props one hand behind his head and he also looks at the monitor and back to me. A lazy, wicked grin follows. "The same could be said for you violating personal space. What are you doing down there anyway? Looking for something?"

Crap. He catches me looking. My face is positioned precariously near the bulge in the sheets. His mouth releases a deep, soul-bending laugh that causes his body to harden gloriously beneath mine. The exposed skin between his t-shirt and pajama pants is silky soft. My finger itches to glide up his ripped torso. Splaying my hand wide, gliding my fingers over his grooved abs, my breasts swell against him, nipples scrape my top. Humor fades from his eyes, replaced instead by hot, red-blooded lust. The need to touch him takes over and my hand slides fully beneath his shirt. Fingertips flattening, drawing light circles. Ben tenses. His eyes flicker. He likes that. I do it again, following the light trail of hair from his chest to the waistband of his pajama pants as the glint of darkness in his gaze turns my throat dry.

Peeling back his shirt, taking it off completely, sunlight creeps over us giving me a full view of his broad chest. His toned muscles. His ripped abs right to the start of the V at his pelvis. My starved eyes meet his. The rich color of his eyes are clear. Lowering my mouth to his neck, I place a kiss, then another, dragging my lips down his chest,  inhaling traces of his bodywash. His skin is satin against my mouth and I can't keep my hands to myself. Spreading over his sides. His hand drops possessively against my lower back, igniting the sound of his swallow. My tongue...my lips work together, settling low on his abs as my hand slips under his pajama pants.