CHAPTER TWO

BENJAMIN’S POV

The sight of her fountain of pleasure made my dick throb like it had its own heartbeat, and I nearly blacked out.

Then, it hit me like lightning—this wasn’t an accident. This was a f*cking invitation, and I was dangerously close to RSVPing.

Beatrice had been on my mind from the first day I laid eyes on her. She moved to the city with her dad three years ago, and it was love at first sight the moment she walked into the class. But I was too nervous to approach her, but not Anthony. He played his gentleman card perfectly and landed Beatrice. As much as it kills me to know that I can’t have her, I respected her relationship with Anthony, and accepted my fate as the sore coward who she will never see as anything more than a friend, well until now.

After grabbing the bottle of coke, she settled back into the sofa.

Suddenly, she passed me the bottle of coke and whispered, “Help me,” her voice was soft, sweet and deadly.

I blinked sharply, my eyes doubling in size, “Me? You want me to open it?”

She could’ve easily opened that damn bottle herself. It wasn’t rocket science. But nope. She gave it to me, while giving me that look—the kind that makes your stomach flip and your pants tighter.

Without thinking, I took it from her, and twisted the cap. Before I could say Jack, the coke exploded—a full-on soda eruption. It fizzed and popped and sprayed all over me like karma had been waiting in that bottle.

“Sh*t!” I yelped, jumping slightly as the cold soda drenched my jeans. Right in the crotch. Of course.

Clara and Anthony were still glued to the movie like zombies that they didn’t realize what was going on. Beatrice let out a small chuckle, but stopped as my gaze fell on her. Embarrassment gawked at me like an eagle as I averted her gaze abruptly, but I tried to act cool.

Without uttering a word, I stormed to the guest’s bathroom. “F*ck!!!!!!!!!” I yelled, just enough for my own hearing. I looked like I’d pissed myself during a math quiz.

I reached for the tap and a towel, ready to clean up and try to forget any of this happened, but then the door creaked open, and I nearly had a heart attack when I saw Beatrice.

She stepped in like she owned the place. Her steps were calm, slow, and sexy as hell. Before I could gulp down the hot saliva that sat in my throat, she shut the door gently behind her.

“W-what are you doing?” I stammered, completely caught off guard, my hand halfway to the faucet and my brain completely fried.

She didn’t say anything, she just sauntered toward me, quiet and intense, her eyes drifting down to the soaked patch between my legs.

I backed into the counter like it could protect me from her. Spoiler: it couldn’t.

Finally, she halted right in front of me, close enough that I could feel her body heat, the sweet fragrance oozing from her delicious body, and the echo of her heartbeat.

Her lips curled slightly into a devious smirk that sent my heart into a spiral. I was going nuts, drums, fireworks, cannons…My chest was hosting a full damn concert.

Was this actually happening, or was I f*cking hallucinating?

Then she leaned in, and for a second, I really thought she was going to kiss me. Her eyes were locked on mine, then they dipped to my lips. My head tilted forward slightly like a dumb puppy, and I felt my whole body tremble with anticipation.

But instead, she whispered, “Let me help you clean that up. It’s the least I can do, considering I gave you the bottle.”

Oh,Oh! I blinked a little too fast.

I wanted to slap myself. You really thought she’d kiss your dumbass?

“I-it’s fine,” I said quickly, hands flailing like I was trying to save face, “I can clean it myself.”

But she wasn’t listening. She took the towel from me, turned to the sink, wet the towel, and rung it out expertly.

“Relax,” she said softly, her voice like warm honey sliding down my spine. “It’s just cleaning.”

Yeah, right… Because just cleaning my damn crotch couldn’t make my man stand tall. She dropped to her knees and pressed the towel against my jeans right over my junk, gently dabbing the area. Innocent? Maybe. But her fingers? Not so much.

Every motion was slow, precise, too damn sensual to be accidental. Her knuckles brushed my hard-on, and I nearly bit on my tongue.

She looked up at me and smirked, “Still sticky?” She murmured, tossing the towel aside.

I shook my head rapidly, swallowing as hard as I could.

Then she placed her hand right over my bulge, and just like a switch my entire body went rigid.

The warmth of her palm seeped through the denim like a jolt of electricity, my cock twitching violently against her hand.

Never had anyone made me feel more vulnerable. With everyone else, I was the boss of the action, always aware of what to do, but not here, not with Beatrice.

“Beatrice…” I whispered.

She slowly stood back up, her fingers dragging up my chest. Her lips were dangerously close again, her eyes, wild.

“How long,” she asked quietly.

My brows shot up in confusion.

“Have you been wanting to fuck me?” She added.

That question hit me like a baseball bat to the chest.

I swallowed harder than I intended, “Since the first day I saw you,” I confessed without hesitation. No filter, no shame, no remorse. “But, that’s not just it.. I… I think I’m in lo—”

“Shhhhhh,” she placed a finger on my lips, and then she kissed me. Her lips crashed into mine with heat and hunger, like a dam had finally broken. Her hand stayed on my cock, stroking it slowly, and I felt like I was ascending to a different dimension. Her mouth tasted like cherry lip gloss and recklessness, and I didn’t care. I kissed her back hard, grabbing her hips, pulling her against me.

She moaned into my mouth, and my knees suddenly went weak. She finally slid her hand into my pants, skin-to-skin. Her warm, soft fingers wrapped around my bare length and stroked slowly. My head fell against her shoulder, and I groaned, deep and guttural.

I wanted to lay her flat on the counter, spread her legs, and taste her until she screamed or, better, passed out. I wanted to claim her right there in the bathroom, friend code be damned.

But then we heard footsteps, and quickly broke apart. Beatrice pulled her hand out so fast, I thought she dislocated her shoulder. She stepped in front of me, casually adjusting her shirt while I scrambled to zip up, and a second later, the door creaked open.

“What’s going on here?” Anthony’s voice punched through the tension like a cold slap.

“Umm…” she said, clearing her throat. “Ben was clumsy. He spilled Coke on himself, and I came to help.”

Anthony squinted at us like he didn’t fully buy it, but also didn’t want to deal with it.

“Right…” he said slowly. “Well, movie’s still on. Let’s go.”

He turned and walked away, and Beatrice followed swiftly. She was almost at the door when she titled her head backwards, and grinned so devilishly, it made me wonder what would have happened if Anthony didn’t turn up… God save me!