Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 234
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
I’ve loved every single one.
We aren’t an official couple or even technically dating. Not when Ben is still hard stuck on his wilderness plans. He reminds me he’s leaving after almost every kiss, which makes me feel like I’m freefalling off a steep cliff. But I get why he does it. He’s scared to create any false hope. Not that I ever believed my kissing skills could convince him to stay. I’m not an idiot—I don’t even think sex will do the trick. He’s adamant he’s leaving.
Except…it’s November 6th. And he’s still here.
He told me it’s because of Classical Mythology. He wants to keep the promise he made to be there for the group presentation, which is scheduled for the end of November. So I have less than a month.
Less than one month left with Ben Cobalt unless his brothers convince him to stay in New York.
It’s the last thing I think before I put a fist to his apartment door and knock.
Ben opens the door, his hair styled in soft waves and his dark pants slung low on his hips. He’s not wearing a shirt, and I can’t tell if I’m more distracted by the ridges of his well-defined abs or the way he smells.
Because he smells…amazing. Pine and mint waft off him in the freshest scent. Along with a dizzying musk. His natural man-smell makes me stupidly feral. Like I could bury my face in his washboard abs. Like I could make a fabric softener with that fragrance and spritz it daily on all my clothes and blankets. Like I am obsessed, okay. And maybe it’s a little unbecoming. But fuck it, I am obsessed with this guy.
Weirdly, happily, obnoxiously obsessed.
I’m flushing when he smiles down at me and lets me inside.
I rummage through the tote bag on my shoulder. “I have flashcards, B12 supplements, and chocolate-covered espresso beans. The vegan kind.” He called me twenty minutes ago to ask for help studying for his Marine Biology exam, and I rushed over here with far too much glee for someone about to have a full night conversing about plankton.
But Ben has never asked me to help him study, and he’s passed on my offer to help him too many times to count. He’s always said, “I don’t really care what grade I get.” For someone who’s planning to drop out of school, I understand that he wouldn’t put too much emphasis on passing his classes.
So this newfound interest in studying has blossomed some hope. Maybe his brothers got to him. Maybe he’s reconsidering his plans to jet off to Nebraska or South Dakota or the farmlands of Iowa. I still don’t know where he’s going, so my brain keeps placing him in a bunch of random states.
“I also have highlighters in four different colors,” I continue. “I figured you probably bought your textbooks instead of rented them which makes it easier because we can just highlight directly on the pages.”
He hasn’t said anything, and when I glance up, he’s smiling down at me like he’s absorbing my frantic, study energy with amusement.
“We’ll use the B12 and the espresso beans,” he finally says. “But I don’t think we’ll need the flashcards or the highlighters tonight.”
I’m about to ask why, but then he leads me farther into the apartment, and my feet stumble to a halt. Candles. So many candles flicker on the bookshelves and the windowsills, the lighting far too romantic and moody for just studying.
My eyes go wide. “Friend?”
Ben casually leans against the back of the couch, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His smile reaches his eyes, and all of it—him, the million-dollar apartment, the candles—is beyond sexy.
“Fisher,” he says my name in a deep husk. “We have the apartment to ourselves.”
My fingers lose grip, and I drop the tote to the ground. Shock churning to a wave of excitement. “How?” We’ve tried for over a month to have alone time here with literally no success. I’ve been thinking that we might have to settle for Harold or a motel, but this is so epically better.
“It’s Wednesday Night Dinner,” he explains. “All my brothers are down in Philly…except Beckett. He has rehearsals for The Nutcracker, but he said that he’d spend the night at a friend’s and give us the place.” He winces. “I only told Beck. It was kind of necessary. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Beckett Cobalt knows that Ben and I are sleeping together. Will be sleeping together. A heat wave courses through me. But I’d much rather Beckett know than not be able to have sex with Ben. If I’m being super honest, I wouldn’t care if all his brothers found out. It means he’s not trying to sweep me under the proverbial rug, and just Ben sharing this with Beckett makes me feel valued in a way.