Oughta Be a Movie: a Sugar-&-Spice romantic comedy by Susan Hammond
Authors: Susan Hammond
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bureau, so she stepped into those, stuffed her room key in her shorts pocket, and dashed out the door and up the stairs.
Just as she raised her hand to knock on his door, it opened. Ben stood there in jeans and nothing else, holding a t-shirt in his hand. His hair was wet, so he must have showered. She glimpsed the surprised look on his face before she was momentarily transfixed by his bare chest. Still had the six-pack.
“You’re going somewhere.” Could she have found anything dumber to say?
“Yes.”
Where was he going dressed—or rather not dressed—like that? Heat rushed across her face when it dawned on her that he was obviously going to someone’s room.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come without texting first.” She started to take a step back, but his hand snaked out so fast and grabbed her arm that she didn’t have a chance to move.
“I was coming to see you.”
“Why?”
“To change your mind. If that didn’t work, Plan B was to toss you over my shoulder.”
Chapter 12
He should have given her romance, instead of some “you choose” ultimatum, but he’d wanted—needed—her to choose this, and he’d made the choice too hard, too stark. Every second since walking away from her, he’d regretted that he hadn’t held her and kissed her. Told her how much he wanted her. So he’d stuffed his pockets full of condoms and flung open the door, going to set things right.
She’d been crying. And he’d done that. But in spite of his bumbling, she was standing right here in front of him.
Standing here in…what the hell did she have on? The heels she’d worn in the wedding with baggy, gray gym shorts and a t-shirt that at one time must have been green but would have been a better fit on an NFL tackle. Except it was a sure bet that no lineman had ever worn a t-shirt that said:
I may look lazy, but on a molecular level I’m quite busy .
Trying to bite back the doofus grin that was spreading across his face, he took in her dark eyes, her mess of wild curls, her face scrubbed free of make-up. He’d never seen a sexier, more beautiful woman in his life.
But he wanted to hear her say it. “Why are you here ?”
“I want this.”
His palm caressed her cheek. “I know.”
“What do you mean?”
His finger slipped inside the droopy neck of her t-shirt, rubbing softly back and forth. “Your flush here. Your breathing speeds up. Your eyes get very dark.”
“Mydriasis. That’s because the autonomic nervous system is ramping up. It’s an involuntary reaction like goose bumps. It may be caused by, at least in part, by the natural release of oxytocin. Pupillometry—measuring the size of the pupils—can even be used as a non-invasive measure of sexual response, you know, strong sexual arousal.”
Kissing her neck, the curve into her shoulder, he felt her shudder. “I like it when you talk dirty. And is it?”
“Is it what?”
“Strong sexual arousal.”
“Yes.” She stepped in, closed the door behind her, and locked it. “Fear can also cause mydriasis—pupil dilation.”
“You’re afraid?”
“It’s just…it’s just I don’t know what to expect.” Before he could respond, she asked, “Are there rules?”
Her question surprised him, but it shouldn’t have. Ali expected—wanted—what he’d been teasing her with for hours. Ben wanted it too, but tonight he wanted to make love to her. “I’m going to hear about this ‘stuff’ you read. But we’ll get to that later. No rules for now, just trust. Know that I’m going to take care of you. If we need rules, we’ll make them up as we go along.”
His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her against him, as he brushed his lips across hers. Small kisses, taking it slow, drawing this moment out, but his storied control was failing him. He gathered the bottom of her shirt into his hands. And gathered and gathered. The thing was huge. But then he felt her warm, bare skin. His hand moved across her back, but
Just as she raised her hand to knock on his door, it opened. Ben stood there in jeans and nothing else, holding a t-shirt in his hand. His hair was wet, so he must have showered. She glimpsed the surprised look on his face before she was momentarily transfixed by his bare chest. Still had the six-pack.
“You’re going somewhere.” Could she have found anything dumber to say?
“Yes.”
Where was he going dressed—or rather not dressed—like that? Heat rushed across her face when it dawned on her that he was obviously going to someone’s room.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come without texting first.” She started to take a step back, but his hand snaked out so fast and grabbed her arm that she didn’t have a chance to move.
“I was coming to see you.”
“Why?”
“To change your mind. If that didn’t work, Plan B was to toss you over my shoulder.”
Chapter 12
He should have given her romance, instead of some “you choose” ultimatum, but he’d wanted—needed—her to choose this, and he’d made the choice too hard, too stark. Every second since walking away from her, he’d regretted that he hadn’t held her and kissed her. Told her how much he wanted her. So he’d stuffed his pockets full of condoms and flung open the door, going to set things right.
She’d been crying. And he’d done that. But in spite of his bumbling, she was standing right here in front of him.
Standing here in…what the hell did she have on? The heels she’d worn in the wedding with baggy, gray gym shorts and a t-shirt that at one time must have been green but would have been a better fit on an NFL tackle. Except it was a sure bet that no lineman had ever worn a t-shirt that said:
I may look lazy, but on a molecular level I’m quite busy .
Trying to bite back the doofus grin that was spreading across his face, he took in her dark eyes, her mess of wild curls, her face scrubbed free of make-up. He’d never seen a sexier, more beautiful woman in his life.
But he wanted to hear her say it. “Why are you here ?”
“I want this.”
His palm caressed her cheek. “I know.”
“What do you mean?”
His finger slipped inside the droopy neck of her t-shirt, rubbing softly back and forth. “Your flush here. Your breathing speeds up. Your eyes get very dark.”
“Mydriasis. That’s because the autonomic nervous system is ramping up. It’s an involuntary reaction like goose bumps. It may be caused by, at least in part, by the natural release of oxytocin. Pupillometry—measuring the size of the pupils—can even be used as a non-invasive measure of sexual response, you know, strong sexual arousal.”
Kissing her neck, the curve into her shoulder, he felt her shudder. “I like it when you talk dirty. And is it?”
“Is it what?”
“Strong sexual arousal.”
“Yes.” She stepped in, closed the door behind her, and locked it. “Fear can also cause mydriasis—pupil dilation.”
“You’re afraid?”
“It’s just…it’s just I don’t know what to expect.” Before he could respond, she asked, “Are there rules?”
Her question surprised him, but it shouldn’t have. Ali expected—wanted—what he’d been teasing her with for hours. Ben wanted it too, but tonight he wanted to make love to her. “I’m going to hear about this ‘stuff’ you read. But we’ll get to that later. No rules for now, just trust. Know that I’m going to take care of you. If we need rules, we’ll make them up as we go along.”
His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her against him, as he brushed his lips across hers. Small kisses, taking it slow, drawing this moment out, but his storied control was failing him. He gathered the bottom of her shirt into his hands. And gathered and gathered. The thing was huge. But then he felt her warm, bare skin. His hand moved across her back, but
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