His Turn
Laurel Bennett
Copyright Laurel Bennett 2012
Published by Night Shift Publishing – Smashwords Edition
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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His Turn
By Laurel Bennett
“Mel, you have to help me!” Anna hissed as she stepped around the corner of her best friend’s cubicle.
Melanie mouthed the words, “What’s wrong?” as she continued to listen to the caller on the other end of her line.
“He called,” Anna mouthed back as she held up her cell phone to show Mel the number on the display. Sam Garrett was written on the screen. For Anna, it may as well have said One-Night-Stand. Or Old-Friend-With-Benefits. Or The-Love-of-Her-Life-Who-Didn’t-Want-Her-for-More-Than-Sex. The one man she’d hoped would never call again.
“Let me call you back,” Mel murmured to her caller. Then she hung up the phone and turned to Anna. “Let me see that.” Anna willingly surrendered the phone. “Thirty-two seconds? That’s how long you talked to him?” Mel’s mouth hung open in awe.
Anna nodded as she nibbled the inside of her lips, which she firmly pressed together. If she didn’t, she’d scream.
“Tell me exactly what he said,” Mel prompted.
Anna thought for a moment. He’d said the same thing he always did. Did she really want Mel to know what that was?
“Out with it,” Mel snapped.
“He said ‘Can you come over at five? I want to be inside you by five-oh-five,’” Anna murmured.
Mel cupped a hand around the shell of her ear as if she hadn’t heard Sam’s blunt invitation. “What did you say?”
“You heard me and you know it!” Anna hissed.
“I just wanted to hear you say it again. It was kind of hot.” Mel snickered. Anna wanted to hit her. “So, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Anna groaned around a fingernail before she ripped it off viciously.
“You’re not thinking of going, are you?”
Anna shook her head. “No. I’m just trying to come up with a good excuse not to go.”
Mel flicked her pen against her desktop and narrowed her eyes. “I think you’re trying to come up with a reason you should go.”
“Maybe I should go, once and for all, and tell him it’s over. That I’m done being his friend with benefits.”
Mel rolled her eyes. “Uh, huh,” she said. “You keep telling yourself that. You lose IQ points every time the man calls you. It’s like all rational thought leaves you when that man beckons.”
“What do I do?” Anna hissed.
“I have an idea,” Mel said, scooting to the edge of her chair. “How about if you go with the sole purpose of telling him what you need to tell him? At five ten, I’ll call you. I’ll make up some reason that I need you. Unless you’re already under him.” She let her voice trail off. “You’ll be able to get out of there unscathed.”
Unscathed? Anna snorted. There was no such thing as being unscathed when Sam Garrett was within thirty feet of her.
***
Anna waited inside the elevator fidgeting, happy when it stopped at several floors during its descent. It was as though a higher power knew she needed time to compose herself before she looked Sam in the eye and told him their relationship was over.
It really couldn’t be called a relationship. They’d met three years before. He’d asked her out and she’d fallen for his heavy charm immediately. And she’d fallen for it again and again, throughout the years. What was she thinking? She should have just told him she couldn’t make it. And then let it play out by forgetting to return his calls. Eventually, he would move on. And, so would she. But before she knew it, she was standing outside his door.
Before she knocked, she bent and adjusted the strap of her three inch heels. Sam was so tall. If she didn’t wear heels, he towered over her. There were some advantages to being with a man so big when she was so little. Like when he picked her up and carried her to bed. Or when he held her against the wall as he surged into her. Her belly clenched with desire at the thought. Before she could even stand back up, the door flung open.
“I like the way you think, Anna,” a warm, deep voice greeted her. She raised her eyes from her bent position, still adjusting her shoe. Heat crept up her face. Next he would tell her they really should have a glass of wine before she bent over for him.
She stood up tall and squared her shoulders. He leaned against the door jam, his arms folded over his broad chest as his gaze slowly raked across her body, a rakish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was dressed in his normal business suit, which he wore every day, aside from Sundays. Or so he said. She’d never spent a Sunday with him. Or any night with him for that matter.
He stepped to the side so she could walk by him. The door clicked shut behind her and before she could take two steps, he’d lifted the back of her skirt and palmed her ass. “Love your dress,” he whispered in her ear as he spun her around to face him. Before she could reply, he sipped her bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled gently.
The scent of his cologne wrapped around her just as surely as his hand cupped her cheek, stealing its way into her mind as confidently as he would steal his way inside her before the night was over. His arms closed tightly around her like warm bands of heat and her arms lifted of their own accord as she dropped her purse to the floor and threaded her fingers into his hair.
His mouth plundered hers. And she responded. God, she didn’t want to, but she responded. Her nipples hardened into aching peaks, and her thighs moistened with want. Her feet left the ground when he cupped her bottom and lifted her to sit on the edge of his kitchen countertop. The cold marble cooled her thighs, a perfect counterpart to the heat of his lips on hers. Like a butterfly flying down the front of her, he had her shirt unbuttoned and her bra open in moments. She couldn’t find her voice to utter a protest when he lifted her breast to his mouth and hummed as he drew her nipple, stiff and aching, between his lips.