My breath is pulled from my body in a sharp exhale.
Ben is standing in my doorway, his warm, dark eyes full of hope and mischief. How did he get into my building? Did he see that I called?
He's wearing a fitted black t-shirt that clings to his chest muscles and dark-wash jeans. His hair is styled, and his mouth is slightly parted. The sight of him makes me ache inside.
"How did you –?" I ask breathlessly.
He smirks. "Your mom gave me the passcode."
"Oh. I see," I say, blushing.
He looked tired but relieved, and we had an entire conversation with just that look. He got my call. I know he did. It takes everything I have not to wrap myself in his long, muscular arms. My heart is pounding so hard.
"I was just on my way out..." I start and then take a shuddering breath. When his eyes meet mine again, I feel the weight of every ticking moment of silence. His jaw flexes, and we stare at each other. When he swallows, the dimple on his cheek flickers.
"You called me," he says with a cute smile. "I saw your number on my screen."
"Why didn't you answer then?" I ask.
He scratches a day's worth of stubble on his jaw. "Because I didn't want to talk over the phone. I wanted to talk in person."
"Oh."
"Can I come in?" he asks, dimple deepening.
I nod, taking a step backward to let him walk inside. I turn to face him, feeling his hand on my elbow. "Firstly, Happy Birthday," he whispers. He rests his forehead against mine before pulling back, meeting my eyes. "Secondly, I missed the hell out of you." His grin gets more prominent as his hands snake around my waist.
"I missed you too."
"I'm sorry I've avoided you." His smile wilts dramatically. "But I know you wanted your space."
"I'm sorry I didn't show up at the bar –"I start to say, but he places a finger over my lips, silencing me.
"It's okay. I fucked up. I didn't tell you about Stephanie. I punched Steven. And I left Costa Rica without saying goodbye. I deserved it."
When he says this, the moment between us grows a little heavy. I shake my head, pull back, and remember how Michelle told me she saw him on a date with someone. "I don't understand what you want from me. If it's forgiveness, I forgive you."
He looks wounded. "Okay. Talk to me," he says, bending to whisper the words in my ear. "Tell me how angry you were with me for keeping something from you. For how stupid I acted at the wedding. For how selfish I was to leave you."
"You broke my heart," I say quietly, but he's still bent close, and I know he's heard me. "It was so shitty of you not to tell me about Stephanie. And it was even shittier of you to punch Steven. But nothing hurt more than you leaving without saying goodbye. But after how shitty everything felt and ended, I'm glad it did -"
"I'm so sorry, Megs."
My chest tightens when he calls me this, and I run my hands up and down his chest. " - it made me realize how much I wanted to be with you."
"I want to be with you, too."
I drop my gaze to his chest. "Michelle saw you."
"Saw me?"
"At Franki's Pizzeria."
He ran a hand over his face, and realization dawned. "Megan, I was having dinner with my sister, Claudia."
"How do I know you aren't lying to me?" I ask, glancing up at him. "You lied to me about Stephanie. I'm worried I can't trust you anymore."
His dimple flashed the tiniest second. "I'm not lying to you. Remember I told you she lost fifty pounds? Michelle wouldn't have recognized her. But she would have known the truth if she had come to my table."
"Oh."
"And the only reason I was even having dinner with my sister was that I needed someone to talk to - about you."
We sway a little but don't move much. "Even if that was the case," I say, feeling slightly stupid. "I just can't go back to being just friends again."
"Listen, I know I haven't given you any reason to believe I'm ready for a commitment. And I know I've always told you I don't believe in love and marriage and white picket fences. But when I'm with you, Megs, I want those things. I don't want anyone else," he says against my mouth. His hands slide down my arms and around my waist as he bends close and touches his lips to mine for several long, perfect seconds. "I love you."
My heart is racing. I can barely formulate words, so I glide my fingers over his chest, up to his throat, and link at the back of his neck.
"Do you remember New Year's Eve, our last year of University?" he whispers.
I nod, thinking, How could I forget?
"Do you remember when I asked you outside the cab if you wanted me to return to your apartment?"
I nod.
"That was the first time I knew I loved you," he says, kissing my cheek. "That night, you were so beautiful. You looked amazing. And I remember you wore a jean skirt and a black shirt that hung low in the front and haltered around your neck to show your back. You even wore high heels, which was so unlike you. For the first time, I started noticing things about you I hadn't noticed before...like the way your nose wrinkled when you laughed, or the way you chewed on your bottom lip when you're nervous, or the way my heart ached when I saw other guys dancing with you on the dance floor...everything changed for me then."
I frown. "Ben, that was years ago...why didn't you tell me then?"
"You had just started seeing Marco," he says quietly, still bent close. "And you were so happy. I was scared that if I told you how I felt, you'd think I was crazy and would have pushed me away. I couldn't risk losing you."
I shake my head. "This sounds great, Ben...but it didn't stop you from hooking up with Stephanie."
He winces. "Megan. I loved you so damn much in silence for so damn long, but I never thought you would be mine. Watching you date Marco was torture. I needed to live my life in a world where we were just friends, so yeah, I slept with random girls, and I stupidly hooked up with Stephanie when I was drunk. The other time was just because I was a mess and tired of watching you mope over Marco. I wanted to be with you but thought you wanted nothing to do with me. If I thought I had any chance with you even a second, Stephanie would have never happened."
"Ben – "I start, but he cuts me off.
"The night I asked you to flip that coin, I wasn't there because I was stood up from a Tinder date."
"What?"
"I purposely invited you there," he says, watching me. "I promised myself that before we left for Costa Rica, I would try one last time to see if we could be more than friends. So when I propositioned you with a coin toss, I thought you'd say no for sure, and that would be it. But when you said yes, I couldn't believe it because I knew there was a chance everything would change once we did. But once it happened, all it did was confirm I loved you so badly that I couldn't keep trying to hide how much I wanted to be with you. Being your friend just wasn't good enough for me anymore."
I pull him in for a real kiss – finally – and Oh. My. God. His mouth is warm, already accustomed to mine. His lips are soft and commanding. I feel his desperation and need to touch, taste, and be with me. As his hands slide down over my ass, pulling my hips into him, I can't wait to tell him I love him too. His tongue barely touches mine, and we both groan, pulling apart and breathing heavily.
"I love you too," I tell him, smiling.
"Megan, I love you so fucking much. I can't even imagine my life without you," he says. "You've always owned my heart," he admits. "I love your laugh. I love your drive. I love your mouth. Your ass. Your eyes. I love everything about you. "
I squirm in his arms. "Ben..."
He kisses my ear, whispering. "Wait. Before you say anything else, I want to give you something for your birthday."
As he handed me a tiny box wrapped in pink paper with a little bow on top, my chest almost ached with the force of each heartbeat. Slowly, I unwrapped the present, opened the box, and saw a shiny 1952 George Washington Quarter on a bed of tissue paper.
I know exactly what significance this quarter holds and feel tears in my eyes.
"I saved it," he says with a little shrug as if it's no big deal- as if he hasn't just given me the sweetest gift ever. "I want you to have it."
I am so relieved. I love him more than anything and want to kiss him again so badly.
"I love it," I whisper. "And I love you."
We trip and crash our way through the living area of my apartment, slamming against the door as he kisses down my neck, his hungry hands grabbing my ass, pulling me into him.
I hear the hinges of my bedroom door creak, followed by a photo frame hitting the floor when we bump into my nightstand. He wraps his arms around my waist to lift me to his mouth.
"This is it, Megan," he says. "You are all I want. I love you."
"I love you too," I whisper, nodding against him and tugging his shirt from the waist of his pants. "I missed you so much."
I tug at his shirt, slide it over his head, and toss it to the floor.
It's only been a few weeks since I touched him, but it feels like a year, and my palms slip down his chest, nails curving along the toned lines of his stomach. When I lean forward and kiss his collarbone, the sound he makes is something between a growl and a desperate moan.
He slips the straps of my tank top from my shoulders, pushing it down my arms until my hands are trapped at my side. "You're my forever," he says, taking my bottom lip between his teeth, and I whimper, having missed him so much.
He backs me to the mattress, kissing me the entire way, and pulls me between his legs. I climb up the bed, hovering him with my thighs bracketed on either side of his hips. His hands smooth along the skin at the back of my thighs, up and down until his fingers reach the hem of my underwear.
His eyes are wide and focused on the diminishing space between us. With impatient hands, he grips my hips, pulling me higher, positioning me over him.
I run my hands up his chest and push my fingers into his hair wordlessly; he reaches for himself, gripping his cock at the base and pushing down onto him. His jaw flexes and his neck arches back when he enters me. I arch my back, moving over the top of him. I can't look away from his face, from his focused connection where our bodies are touching, and it's like the air has been sucked from the room.
I move against him, fingers in his hair and his cock so hard inside me. His eyes are glassy, his lips red from my kisses, making me possessive in a way I've never known.
He pushes forward with every slight flex of his hips upward, deeper and deeper, as I sink into him. Our breathing is so hard and fast, and I can't close my eyes because his expression is unreal: his eyes are connected to mine, his lips are parted, and he gasps beneath me, overcome.
Everything is too much. I need to get used to the feel of him so deep inside me—the feel of fully giving into our connection to the electricity between us. I feel the thick slide of him and his rough hands growing hungrier. I want to skip my birthday dinner and feel him all night.
He seems lost in the feel of me. His hands grip my hips, anchoring but letting me drive, and he looks at my face and smiles. His playful dimple causes my heart to swell.
We move in unison, faster and faster. I am mesmerized by the tiny wrinkle between his brows as he watches my face, concentrating. He angles his hips, satisfied when I gasp, and he whispers to ride him faster and harder.
As I start to come, he watches, eyes wide, as my head begins to fall and the pleasure climbs. I shatter into pure sensation, and he whispers dirty things into my ear as I buck on top of him, shivering from my release and collapsing against his chest.
We dip down together onto the soft sheets, now at my back, and I feel him guiding himself back inside. He's moving on top of me – long, deep strokes – his chest pressed to mine. His mouth hovers over my neck, to my mouth, where he sucks and tastes, growling.
I slide my hands down his back, feeling his smooth skin. I hear him gasp at my name as he speeds up, glancing at my face, grunting, " I'm close...
He's so hard everywhere. His muscles tense, and he's ready to explode. He groans with relief when I push my head into the pillow, wild beneath him.
"I'm coming," he growls, arching his head back and closing his eyes. "Oh, Megan."
He collapses on me, and we're nearly pressed against the headboard. I hear the sound of his laboured breath in my ear, the quiet I love you.
After a few laboured breaths and just feeling him heavy over top of me, he brushes the hair from my face and looks down at me. "I want to take you on a real date."
I laugh as he hovers above me, and I run my hands down his sweaty chest. "Like right now? My legs are just regaining sensation..."
He laughs, too, scanning my face to dissect my expression. "How about tonight? Let me take you out for a birthday dinner."
"I already have plans..." I pull his face to mine, kissing his stubbly jaw. "Jessica organized a birthday dinner."
His head tilts, his smile a little mischievous. "Where?"
"Some Italian Restaurant downtown," I say. "Did you want to come?"
He gives me a tiny nod a tiny smile, and presses his mouth to my breastbone. "You bet I'm coming. I am not letting my sexy girlfriend spend her birthday without me."
The world tips when he says this. My hands slide down his back, and I relish in the bunched muscles in my hands as he moves, curling into me. He kisses me and then pulls back, brows drawn in an expression of seriousness. "What time is this dinner?" he asks.
I glance at the clock on my nightstand. "Like forty minutes from now."
His brow furrows, his eyes on my breasts, my lips, and then he pushes his body away just enough so his gaze can meet mine. "Let's grab a drink somewhere beforehand."
"Forty minutes is not enough time to grab a drink beforehand."
"It is more than enough time." His smile widens, reaching his eyes in that way that sucks the breath straight from my lungs. "Come on. Let's go."
"But this is so cozy," I whisper and wrap my hands around his neck, tugging him forward. "Please, let's just stay here for a bit longer. You can take me out on a real date anytime."
He laughs, "Anytime, huh?"
I kiss his cheek. "Yes, anytime."
Ben breaks my hold around his neck and tickles me along my sides. I am so ticklish and can't stop laughing and squirming beneath him.
"Stop," I laugh, trying to wiggle myself free.
"Not until you agree to have a quick drink with me."
"Fine," I surrender. "I will."
Ben's fingers are still, and he looks down at me, smiling. "That's the spirit, " he says. He then leans down and kisses my lips.
"But we cannot be a minute late," I tell him. "So pick somewhere close to the Italian Restaurant."