Seriously, believe him. Was that a bead of perspiration on his forehead?
He sucked in some air, deciding that it was way too warm in here, and put his empty wineglass on the coffee table.
Only Benny was chewing her full bottom lip in contemplation.
"I just want everything to be perfect. I want-I need-to know that when he kisses me, he's not going to draw away in horror. That he'll be enticed to want more."
A growing realization was coming over Henry, and he wiped at his forehead. No. It wasn't possible. She wasn't about to ask him-
"Would you be willing to, maybe, kiss me? Just for a minute? You've been so honest up to now, and I trust that you'll tell me if kissing me is like kissing a twelve-year-old-"
"I'm afraid I wouldn't have any recent experience there."
"You know what I mean. You said you can create the whole package, and what I need from you right now is assurance. Assurance and maybe a few tips. What I'm doing wrong, what I'm doing right " She trailed off, her eyes pleading with him.
This was too much.
Benny was actually sitting there, sexy as hell, asking him to kiss her, something he'd been fighting himself from doing since she first sat on this couch. Maybe even before that. She was asking him to feel what those full lips would be like under his and manage to keep his head enough to give her pointers, for God's sake.
"Benny, I'm not sure this is a good idea."
"Oh. Okay, I understand." A certain glimmer of humor entered her eyes. "You're afraid that I've made you into this guru in the fine art of kissing and lovemaking, that now that you're on the spot, you won't be able to hold up your end of it. It's a performance thing."
"The hell it is." He sounded angrier than he'd intended. He tried again, making himself sound levelheaded. "Believe me, I know what I'm doing. That's not the problem."
"Prove it."
The woman was positively deranged.
"Fine. If that's what you want. But when I tell you what you're doing wrong, I don't want you to try and physically maim me." He couldn't believe he was going to do this.
Kiss a woman he'd been thinking of more times than he probably should the past week. Kiss a woman whom he'd been wanting to kiss long before then.
He smiled a little wider now. Well, if it was what she wanted
Chapter Thirteen
Benny couldn't quite believe that she'd voiced the request, a request she'd been toying with asking for two days. She wanted to knock Luke's socks off when they finally took that step, and who best to tell her-no, show her-than Lothario here? A man who knew women and probably had more than enough practice in this department before he'd even graduated junior high.
This was purely an experiment. A lesson.
But why was it that, now that it was going to happen, her belly was fluttering and swirling and she was having a hard time getting enough air in her lungs?
It was only Henry.
Henry.
She just wished he'd stop looking at her with that new glint in his eyes. A glint filled with mischief and something else desire?
No. Definitely far from that.
"First, you're going to have to get a lot closer to me than that," he drawled, clearly enjoying this more than he should.
Of course. Why was she still sitting there like a slug?
She slipped her feet from under her and crossed the three feet to the spot where he was sitting. He patted the space next to him and, after drawing in another breath, she sank to the cushion, her shoulder pressed against his arm.
"You're sure about this?" he asked. "Because you're acting like you're about to be sent to the guillotine. You need to relax."
Sure. She could relax. She threw back the last of the wine and set her glass next to his empty one before making herself more comfortable, with one leg tucked beneath her and the other anchoring her to the floor.
She turned toward him, trying to ignore his subtle masculine scent, and the fact that she was sitting so close to him that she could see the slight stubble that covered his jaw. That his brown eyes were more caramel than almond colored, with flecks of green she hadn't noticed before.
Everything seemed to have slowed down-or maybe that was the two glasses of wine-as Henry's hand moved toward her face, brushing off a wisp of hair that had fallen, before his hand cupped it, strong and certain.
And then his lips.
Holy Hannah. They were opening and moving toward her now and he looked so determined-
Call it nervousness or the fact she was about to jump from her skin, but she dropped her head as a nervous laugh burst from her lips, then the laugh shook her belly and she was holding her stomach. "I'm sorry. It just hit me what we were about to do and I couldn't stop-"
"Get it out of your system. Because nothing cools a guy's ardor faster than being laughed at." His voice was monotone and slightly irritated.
She looked at his face. Had she offended him? "No. I'm sorry. I got it all out. Let's try again."
"I don't know. I'm only doing this as a favor, and if you're going to act like you're ten then maybe this isn't a good-"
Once again, she had no freaking idea what was coming over her as the humor of the situation fled and now now she only wanted to finish what they'd started
But on her terms.
So before he could finish his sentence, Benny lifted her face and stopped him with her own lips. He froze, and for a moment they were stuck like that, two sets of lips, immobile.
But then the funniest thing happened. She could taste the wine on his mouth, smell the subtle clean scent of his aftershave, and suddenly she realized she wanted more.
More of him.
At the same moment, his own lips moved and parted hers, his mouth unexpectedly hot and sensual. Her head was swooshing, and the blood was suddenly racing through her as she followed his own movements, her lips somehow finding their own way as she savored the heat and the heavenly feeling of just being kissed.
His hand lifted again to cup her face, and she melted farther into him as her hand reached up to his shoulder and she braced herself against him. He'd moved forward now, and the pressure of the cushions against her back increased. Henry had settled his hips between her legs, the hem of the dress higher, exposing her skin.
Both of his hands slid down her waist and rested on her hips, his fingers digging in but not unpleasantly as he pressed her closer to him. Her legs wrapped around him, holding him to her deliciously.
She didn't want the moment to ever end.
Wait. Moment?
What on earth was she doing?
The same realization seemed to hit Henry, and he froze. She opened her eyes to stare into his, dark and filled with desire. His hands dropped away as he sat back, and her mouth, once so hot and connected to him, felt cool, almost lonely. Self-consciously, she covered it with her hand.
What just happened?
Henry came to his feet. "I think that we can safely assume that you know what you're doing, at least in the kissing department. I don't think there's really anything more I can offer you."
He sounded so awkward. Uncertain. Not the sure, confident Henry she was used to, and she looked up at him with a slight smile as he nearly stumbled back in his haste to gain more distance. "I almost forgot, I'm meeting someone for drinks in a few minutes, so I should probably be going."
She came to her feet, uncertain if they'd hold her, but she managed to stay upright and follow him to the door. "I'm sorry, Henry. Did I do something wrong?"
He paused and shook his head, his gaze finally meeting hers again for a minute. "Not at all. You have nothing to worry about. Go out on your date with Luke tomorrow and know that he's a very lucky guy."
Then he turned and opened the door and was gone before she could say anything more.
What the heck just happened?
She leaned against the door, bemused and still tingling from the effects of that kiss.
In all her life she had never felt the power of a kiss. She had kissed men before, of course. But nice, pleasant kisses that gradually grew more impassioned until things naturally moved to the next level.
But this kiss. This one had been like a powder keg. The lust and desire that rushed through her so instantaneous it still had her reeling.
From a kiss with Henry.
Her fingers touched her lips again. If that was what kissing Henry was like for every woman, no wonder he had such a female following.
Well, he did have a lot of experience.
She shook her head. That was it, of course. And now he was off to kiss another woman senseless and probably bring her back to his place for a night of more kissing and pressing their bodies together like-
No. Stop.
She had what she wanted-assurance that kissing her wasn't the kiss of death. She was more confident now, having seen that Henry, who could barely even stand her before, had clearly enjoyed their kiss as much as she had.
She needed to push thoughts of Henry and his kisses out of her mind once and for all.
Tomorrow night she'd be with Luke. It would be Luke's lips she'd be kissing, his hands that would wrap around her waist.
That was what this was all for. Wasn't it?
It was after nine the next night, and Henry was on his second beer at one of his favorite bars, trying to pay attention to the game that was on. He told himself that he was there for the atmosphere, the sheer entertainment value of watching the occupants vie for the attention of whoever caught their eye. Including him sometimes.
But really it was a distraction, and he knew it.