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’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I should’ve told you sooner that I didn’t plan on staying in New York. If you don’t want to hang out anymore—”
“No,” I wince. The idea of cutting him out of my life right now is too abrupt. I’m eviscerated just thinking about it. “I want to hang out. We have the rest of September and all of October, right?”
He nods strongly. “Yeah.”
“Okay, then we have two months, and I will try my best not to be the world’s grumpiest person during that span of time.”
He laughs. “I’ll take what I can get. You want to be grumpy, that’s not going to bother me.” He pauses a beat before he adds, “I just can’t stand it when you’re sad.”
Then don’t leave. I still can’t manage the words. “I’m trying not to be.”
He wraps an arm over my shoulders, pulling me closer to his side, and I instinctively unfurl from my roly-poly position, my body subconsciously craving his embrace, his comfort. I rest my cheek on his bicep, and his arm falls to my waist. He’s holding me against his sturdy, athletic frame, and I start to will myself to forget about his impending departure from the city. From my life.
The movie plays, and we sink down a little together. I’m lying into him like he’s a pillow, and his hand makes small soothing circles on my arm. I’ve never half-watched Sugar & Spice. I’m usually engrossed by the campiness and dark humor, but tonight my mind wanders so easily.
His fingers slip under my black sleeve and brush my skin in a casual way, but the skin-to-skin contact has my brain buzzing.
I glance up at him every so often, and he’ll glance down. An emotional undercurrent tethers me and him together when maybe it should’ve torn us further apart. I seek out his comfort in the same way he seems to be seeking out my presence.
My breathing shallows. I imagine what it’d be like to be underneath Ben. Cocooned and protected by his strong build. I imagine him pushing inside me. Closer than we’ve ever been.
I want it even more than I did.
As the movie plays, I don’t stop myself from visualizing Ben leaning in to kiss the nape of my neck, his erection digging into me. Why would I stop? He’s leaving. There’s no friendship to protect anymore. I can have as many illicit thoughts as I want.
But I don’t have to picture his hand skating down my elbow to my wrist. I feel it.
My arm lies against his warm chest. I’ve never cuddled anyone like this, but I want to keep curling up against Ben. Our eyes meet again. Oxygen has thinned. I shiver a little when his hand drops to my thigh. Keep going, I think. Don’t end it.
He’s thumbing the soft skin that peeks beneath the hem of my T-shirt.
I hear his breathing deepening. He cups my ass—then the front door opens while the pregnant cheerleaders storm the supermarket on screen.
Ben tugs down my T-shirt quickly. I unhook my leg from his waist and fall onto my back. It’s already past midnight, and we crane our heads to see Eliot twirling a chestnut-haired girl into the apartment. Her green velvet dress flows gracefully as she spins.
They laugh together. When she whirls to a halt, her focus lands on Ben with a gasp. “Is that—?” she starts, but Eliot slips a hand over her eyes.
“Nothing to see here.” Eliot gives Ben and me a smirk and wink. “The bedroom is this way, milady.” He guides her to his room, and it takes all my energy not to call him back.
Because I understand now.
Why Eliot and the rest of them have been trying to spend time with Ben. Why they’ve been “bonding” and why they begged him to move to New York. Ben thinks his brothers don’t know he plans to leave, and maybe they don’t know he’s ready to pack his bags for the wilderness.
But they suspect something.
Why else would they be trying so hard to get him to love New York?
And I’m not deluding myself. I will never be the reason Ben stays in the city. The only shot will be if his brothers can convince him. I want that. More than anything I want the Cobalt brothers to succeed.
“Sorry about that,” Ben apologizes and rewinds some of the movie.
“I’m guessing that’s not a girlfriend.”
“New night. New girl,” he confirms, his gaze dropping down to me for a long, sweltering beat. He’s not restarting the movie.
His hand slides through his hair, and I’m reminded how classically attractive he is. He might as well be the jock in any teen movie. The heartthrob in a rom-com. The boy next door that the girl has always pined for but never had.
He has a natural charm that lessens my nerves, whispers words of comfort and ease, and tonight, more than any night, I feel emboldened.