Page 60 of You Only Need One

I don’t think he means to, but one of his fingers brushes against the exposed skin on my side. The contact tickles but in a good way. A way that makes me want to lean into his hand for more pressure on the spot.

Yeah, time to escape to the bathroom.

“Your choice. So, bathroom?” I point upstairs and raise my eyebrows in question because, from my quick scan, I don’t see one on this lower level.

“Yeah, it’s right by the front door. There’s also one on the top floor.”

I nod, but before I can turn to go, he gives my side a squeeze, like he wants me to look back at him. Helpless to give up the offer, I do as he directed.

Ben holds out his wrist to show the time on his simple silver-and-leather watch. “We should probably head out when you’re done, right?”

It’s just after nine. There’s an uncomfortable pressure in my chest, reflective of the feeling in my bladder.

This has been so fun, bantering with Ben, throwing out insults to the other players, discussing shots. Now, the night is over, and I’m going to have to deal with drunken dancers for the next four hours.

Tips. Just think about the tips.

If the eyeballing I’ve been getting at this party is a good indication, I should expect my most lucrative shift. It’ll be interesting to be treated like Terra for a night. I’ll just focus on that new experience, and hopefully, it’ll help me get past this disappointment.

Still, just because my fun is over doesn’t mean that Ben’s needs to be.

“You don’t have to leave, Ben. I’ve still got time to catch a bus.”

He rolls his eyes and walks with me to the stairs. “Yeah, right. I invited you here. I’m not about to abandon you to find your own way to work.” He leans in close, lips almost brushing my ear. “Besides, now that Jasper’s left, you’re the only one in this house I actually like.”

I pull back before I give in to the urge to turn my head to the side to kiss him. Instead, I give his rough cheek a pat. “Well, of course. That’s because I’m the only decent pool player here.”

We grin at each other, and then he shocks me by grabbing the hand I’ve left resting on his face and giving the meaty part of my palm a gentle bite.

My mouth is hanging open, I’m sure of it, but I can’t seem to regain motor control of my face. Still grinning, he shakes his head and manually turns me back toward the stairs, giving me a guiding push.

“Didn’t you need to pee, Miss Foster?”

I can’t respond, so I just order my legs to move. Fortunately, they obey.

Ben is right behind me. I can practically bathe in his body heat.

Halfway up the stairs, he makes some inarticulate noise, almost like a groan. I pause and glance back to see if he hurt himself, but no. He’s just a few steps below me, one hand threaded in his rusty hair, the other resting on the waist of his pants, and his eyes are looking anywhere but at me. Not finding the source of whatever made him grunt, I shrug and continue on my way.

Unfortunately, there’s a line three people deep at the main floor’s bathroom. While we were downstairs in our own little world of pool, the party up here doubled in size.

“I’m going to check the bathroom upstairs. You find wherever Jasper hid my coat.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Ben gives me a salute and a smirk, and I stick my tongue out at him before sprinting up the stairs.

I really didn’t want to use this bathroom. There’s no valid reason why other than it’s on the floor where Ben disappeared to with Annabelle earlier.

I mean, what do I expect to find? Her sprawled, naked, on a bed, fully satisfied from a bout of makeup sex? Even if they did the deed, she wouldn’t still be recovering over an hour later.

Unless he’s that good. And, if my hormonal reaction to his mere presence is any indication, he might be. I wonder if Ben would need as much instruction as Roderick did or if he could get me off on his own.

Nope. Stop it. Right now.

I can hear the beep, beep, beep of a Mack truck backing up as I retreat from my inappropriately naughty thoughts.

Upstairs is almost eerily quiet after the mass of voices on the first floor. The hallway is only lit by a night-light plugged into one of the outlets. I’m assuming the occupants of the house don’t want their rooms messed up during the festivities because all the doors are closed. Problem is, now, I can’t tell which one leads to the bathroom.

Luckily, I hear a flush at the end of the hall. I walk toward the sound, noticing all the artwork hanging on the walls on my way. That’s slightly comforting—to know that there’s actually artwork up here, and it’s not all in Annabelle’s bedroom. Maybe Ben did just come up here to comment on her paintings.