His eyes dip to register the motion, and he swallows as he presumably loses his train of thought. I have no idea why I decided to come over here in a skimpy little pajama set.
It's midnight now. I should look like death, per the usual. Not like a sex kitten.
Yesterday I looked like a hobo. I didn't want to be so unappealing tonight, and don't ask me why. I'm suffering some confusion at the moment.
His eyes drift down my legs that have a touch of tan on them. And they're smooth, because unlike the men in this town, I use a razor.
My camisole top barely covers anything, and even shows off a sliver of skin of my stomach. It's not completely flat, but it's mostly flat. Flat enough to show off. It's also a little too chilly out there to be dressed like this.
Even in my head, I'm trying to justify my mostly indecent and completely impractical wardrobe choice. Damn Benson. What's he doing to me?
His eyes snap back up to meet mine.
"You decided to get revenge dressed like that?" He gestures to … all of me.
"Easier to run in," I lie.
Either he buys the lie, or just doesn't care enough to press for more. He walks by me, heading to his den.
"I figured you'd changed your mind about coming over when you didn't show up. Now I realize you were just waiting on them to be dead to the world."
I remove my boots, thinking back on all the poor logic in my plan. Both of them waking up while I was cutting their beards was not part of the plan. That almost caused cardiac arrest.
"I was really hoping you were still awake," I say on a sigh. "I should have told you it'd be late."
"You're going to need to stay here for more than a night."
I nod, agreeing. They're way more pissed than even I expected.
And I'm not losing my hair, damn it.
Benson drops to the couch, stretching one long leg to his coffee table, before hitting play on the TV. I go to curl up right against his side, and don't think about it until after he goes stiff.
Seriously. What is wrong with me?
We always touch, but I'm practically all over him right now.
His arm comes around my shoulders, and I stop thinking. If I'm attracted to a guy with a beard, then I'll never hear the end of it. I'm okay with that.
But … Benson. I can't do that with Benson.
First of all, he doesn't date girls around here. Secondly, he's a friend. One of my best friends, oddly enough.
I need to stop having weird reactions to him.
"You tired?" he asks, shifting so that I'm even closer, practically on top of his side.
"No. I will be when the adrenaline wears off though."
He laughs softly, his arm growing more relaxed around me.
"You need your laptop?" he asks.
"It's in my bag." I gesture to the abandoned backpack near the door. "I made sure to pack the essentials, just in case."
"Good thinking," he says, a smile to his voice.
"Thanks for the protection."
"You'll owe me after this is all over. They're pissed now, but wait until tomorrow."
A grin forms on my lips as the adrenaline slowly wears off. I'm not sure when it happens, but at some point I feel him shifting again, and before I know it, he's nothing more than a pillow under me.
Chapter 4
Wild Ones Tip #327
Always watch your back. Or at least have someone crazy enough to watch it for you.
LILAH
I jolt awake to the loud blaring of music, and arms tighten around my waist as Benson wakes up too.
Yep. I slept on top of Benson.
I'm not going to lie; I'm very tempted to grind against him right now, because he totally has morning wood, and it's pressed right against the vee of my thighs. My thighs that are spread shamelessly over him, because somehow I straddled him in my sleep.
I sit up, and he takes a second to look at me, confused, then down to where I'm straddling his lap, and back up to my eyes. He scrubs his face as that music starts playing again, and he looks over to where it's coming from.
Stupid phone.
We're together all the time, and I rarely see that phone. Now, in a matter of days, I've seen it constantly.
He grabs it, putting a hand on my hip when I try to get up. I stay put instead of moving as he answers.
"Bill," he says, his voice causing me to inwardly moan.
Why does he sound so sexy right now?
That beard … does nothing for me. Yet it's taking all my strength not to pull his pants down and relieve the ache he's left me with.
It doesn't make sense. I didn't have any reaction at all to Liam.
And he's gorgeous!
Yet Benson has me physically aching.
Wait … Bill? Uncle Bill?
Quickest libido killer in history.
Benson smiles as he sits up, still keeping me in his lap.
"Yeah. She's here. Spent the night after the guys chased after her." He looks at me and winks, and I get more comfortable on his lap, maybe wiggling more than necessary.
That has him tensing.
Talk about mixed signals.
"We'll head right over."
I get up as he puts his phone away. "Your uncle is calling a meeting at his house," he says as he stands.
"Right now?"
"Apparently we were the last to be called. Half the people are over there now, so yeah," he says, running his fingers through his shaggy, black hair. "Now."
I grab my backpack, cursing myself when I see I packed a lot of sleeping things, but nothing to wear. Deciding not to give a damn, I grab my toothbrush, hairbrush, and a ponytail holder, and rush upstairs behind Benson.
He barely turns around when I follow him into the bathroom.
"What're you doing?"
"Brushing my teeth and pulling my hair up," I say as he turns away from me like he's hiding something.
"I have to piss."
Oh. Yeah.
I blush and dart out, and I run to another bathroom down the hall, wondering why I'm suddenly following him around.
I brush my teeth quickly, comb through my hair, then pull it up before jogging back out. Benson is walking down the stairs as I tug on my boots.
"You're going like that?" he asks incredulously.
What's wrong with what I'm wearing? He's in his typical jeans and tee. I'm in pajamas. Who cares? It's Tomahawk.
"But you're not even wearing a bra. And those shorts … are you seriously not wearing any underwear?"
"Bugs, remember? I won't ever wear them again until I get new ones. Those little beasts can hide anywhere."
"Those shorts are really short-"
"Hurry! I have to see them swim the lake," I tell him, tying the last shoe string on my boot.
"You remember that half the guys are not getting sex regularly, right?" he drawls as he follows me down the stairs to the dock.
"What does that have to do with my brothers swimming the lake?" I retort, staring at him like he's lost his mind.
He stares back at me for a second like I'm an idiot, but I have no idea what I'm missing.
"Nothing," he grumbles, finally helping me into his boat.
I'm practically bouncing with excitement as he unties us and starts the motor, getting us away from his dock before driving us toward my uncle's.
I swivel in my seat to face him, noticing how tense he looks. "What's wrong?" I ask, making my voice carry over the steady roar of the motor.
"I'm just curious what he's going to do," he says.
"Uncle Bill?"
He nods, but before I can ask more questions, we're coasting up to the dock that is already teeming with other boats. It's a massive dock, since my aunt hosts parties all the time.
I help Benson tie off, and he lifts me out of the boat until I can get my knees under me and stand. Then he hauls himself onto the high dock. His hand snakes around my waist, tugging me to him when we see Liam climbing up onto the dock as well.
"Sorry for imposing, but when Penny called, I figured I had to come bear witness to the ‘biggest upset in Tomahawk history.' How can a guy pass that up?" Liam asks, smiling over at me before flicking his gaze back to Benson.
"Should be interesting," Benson says gruffly, his grip tightening on me even more as he hurries us by Liam.
"Those are some really nice … boots," I hear Liam say from behind me.
"Thanks," I say, walking a little taller in my girly combat boots with pink shoe strings.
Rarely ever does anyone notice my boots. After all, Kylie Malone is the one with a massive collection of pretty boots, so mine get overlooked.
"You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" Benson grumbles.
"Huh?"
He doesn't answer. Instead, he keeps me pressed to his side as we walk toward the assembly. Paul turns to look back at us, then turns to face my uncle as he talks. Then he whips his head back around, eyes wide and fixed on me as he stumbles to get the rest of his body turned around.
Benson mutters something too low for me to hear, and he moves in behind me, before wrapping his arms around my waist. I have no idea why he's acting so weird.