Goddammit.

Olivia was drunker than Ben thought. She had seemed unsteady on her feet during their walk, but she’d held their conversation so well without slurring her words, he hadn’t thought much of it.

But he was pretty sure she’d just asked him if he had wood.

So…yeah.

She mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out. Something about those captains really pack a punch, which didn’t make any sense.

“What was that?”

“At ease, Captain.” Then she dissolved into giggles.

As he helped her stay upright while they weaved their way through the B&B’s living room, her foot caught the corner of the hallway rug, causing her to trip. He lunged forward, irrational panic swarming him at the thought of her hitting her head and knocking herself out. When he wrapped his arms around her middle and hauled her back up, she was laughing hysterically.

“Lock me up, Sheriff,” she wheezed. “Walking while intoxicated. You caught me red-handed.”

Jesus, she was cute.

“Lucky for you I’m feeling nice again tonight,” he mused. “I’ll let you off with another warning.”

Damn, she was soft. All over. He was painfully aware of how close his fingertips were to the underside of her breasts as he helped support her weight. She was tucked against his much harder body that yeah, was hard everywhere. It couldn’t be helped with her arm wound around his waist and her fingers hanging onto his belt loops for purchase. Every inch of her cock tease body was plastered against him, making every molecule in his body buzz with arousal.

But…it wasn’t just her body that had every system inside him functioning at the highest levels. It was the fact that she needed him in that moment. She was leaning on him, relying on him to help see her to her room safely. And that kicked his protective instincts into overdrive. Shit, his possessiveness and jealousy had already been put to the test tonight. No matter what he told himself tomorrow—that she was drunk and he was being a decent person, not to mention a sworn officer of the law, by seeing her safely home—he couldn’t deny that he liked being the person Olivia needed. The only one around to…care for her.

She leaned heavily against him as they slowly climbed the stairs. “It’s your fault I’m like this, really.”

He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “How’s that?”

“You hustled those guys in that quarters game, which forced me into playing, which caused me to drink over my self-imposed limit.”

Smile slipping, he frowned down at the top of her head. “I forced you? How does that track? I’m not following.”

He wanted to laugh when she let out an unintentional snort that he found fucking adorable. But if she didn’t give him an answer, he would demand one. What the hell was she talking about?

“You guys approached them for a game.” She let out a noise that was part hum, part sigh. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. Why did you?”

His feet froze on the steps.

She seemed content to rest her head on his pec, as if nothing were amiss, while he figured out how to respond to that. He couldn’t tell her the truth. She either wouldn’t believe that he’d been jealous and wanted that walking ad for Pacific Sunwear away from her, or she simply wouldn’t appreciate it. Seeing as how he had no right to be jealous in the first place. He didn’t even know where that territorial bullshit was coming from. He had no hold on Olivia. But something inside him—a voice he couldn’t ignore no matter how hard he tried to drown it out—insisted that she was, in fact, his on some level. Had always been his. It was probably due to the fact that one’s nemesis took up a lot of room inside one’s head, but it felt like there was more to it. He just couldn’t unravel the knot in his head enough to work it all out.

“Hunter and Aiden were about to have aneurysms,” he lied. “They turn into a couple of hellhounds when any man comes sniffing around their women. And Finn, well… You know what happens with him when it involves Maggie. They felt they had to put those guys in their places.”

A garbled noise of agreement slipped from Olivia’s lips. Probably getting sleepy. Thank God. Maybe that meant she would drop this conversation and with any luck, not even remember it tomorrow.

“Mmm, guess that makes sense,” she purred, her eyelids lowering. “You just really seemed to not like Denton.”

“Who’s Denton?”

They were almost to the top of the stairs when she licked her lips. Christ, he wanted to lay her out on those steps. Tell her all she had to do was lay back and relax while he took care of everything. Like giving her the kind of screaming orgasm that made her pass out cold. That was assuming he could figure out how the hell to get inside that romper thing she had on. He didn’t see a zipper anywhere.

They’re probably made to keep guys like you out.

“Denton was the one with the mustache.”

His blood cooled. The prick that had been hitting on her all night. “Don’t tell me you actually liked Gomez Addams?”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared up the stairwell thoughtfully. “Not really. If I had to make out with a mustache, might as well go full bore and do a Tom Selleck. Or Burt Reynolds.”

Where was this irritation coming from? “Anyone who’s actually alive and not over the age of seventy?”

“Denton wasn’t from around here.”

“What does that mean?”

She almost clocked him with her elbow when she raised both her hands in a picture this gesture. “The out-of-towner,” she whispered dramatically. “Don’t you get it?”

“Was that an explanation?”

She rolled her eyes, swaying into him. “He’s not from here. Shell Grove. Which means I wouldn’t have any awkward encounters with him in a few months as we stood in line at the convenience store, waiting to pay for our Slurpees.”

Realization dawned and it was accompanied by a wave of outrage. “You were going to sleep with him?”

“Shhhhh,” she hissed with her finger over her mouth. “I didn’t say that. But any Vacation Dude who doesn’t fit the serial killer profile gets that consideration if he seems interested. You know how hard it is to get laid around here without people talking about it over their morning eggs at Sandy’s?”

He shook his head, hoping he had just hallucinated the last ten seconds.

He had to finish walking them up the stairs in order to give himself time to organize his enraged thoughts. Olivia was standing there slightly slumped over, looking so pretty it pissed him off, and she had the fucking nerve to talk about getting laid by some random guy? Was that what had taken her to The Clumsy Clam tonight? Was she on the hunt?

Why did that absolutely bug the shit out of him?

In fact, it bugged him so much that he engaged his impulsive side that he usually had on lockdown these days and let his fucking words run away with him. Along with his frustration. Stopping in front of the door at the end of the hallway, he looked down at her with what he was sure was a heady mixture of fiery agitation and unbridled lust.

“You horny, Liv?” he rasped. “Need to get laid?”

Her eyes somewhat cleared of their buzzy fog as they focused up at him. “I—um…” She rattled out a laugh. “I mean, that’s part of the pain of single life, isn’t it?”

He found himself brushing her bangs out of her eyes before he realized what he was doing. “Not typically. When you’re single, you have the freedom to do whatever you want. If anything, you have the opportunity to be in a constant state of fulfillment.”

He watched the bobbing of her throat muscles as she swallowed. “I don’t have a revolving door, Ben. That’s not my style.”

Ah, hell, he was fucked.

She went and said his first name in that threadbare voice, and now his dick was swelling to three times its size.

“That’s not what I meant.” Without permission, he closed the distance between their bodies until her back was pressed against the wooden door. Her shoulders straightened as she became more aware of what was happening. His hands came up on either side of her head, caging her in. “You don’t have to have multiple partners to get what you need. Sometimes one can be enough, if they know what they’re doing.”

You don’t know what you’re doing. Step off, man.

Her soft puffs of breath reached his neck, causing goosebumps to rise over his skin. “What are you saying?”

What was he saying?

“Just that you don’t have to go trolling the bars for random men, who are going to go back to their lives and remember you as nothing more than their novelty vacation fuck.”

She sucked in a breath. “Maybe that’s how I prefer it.”

He slowly shook his head, his knee lightly nudging her legs apart. And she allowed it. “Nah, Liv. You want someone who’s gonna remember you as the best fuck of his life. And treat you like it. Every. Single. Time. You want to be somebody’s standard. The bar that no other woman can reach.”

There was the barest note of uncertainty in her eyes. But there was also curiosity and…excitement. “That sounds awful close to a relationship.”

The coarse denim of his jeans chafed against her inner thighs, but she encouraged it. Hell, she was rubbing her legs alongside his, wiggling her hips just enough to send a message.

Fuck. She’s into this.

“Not necessarily,” he said, spurred on by her body’s invitation. “Sometimes all it takes is two people having a mutual goal and mutual needs. And, of course, there has to be…”

“What?” she rushed out when he trailed off. Her eyes searched his feverishly, enraptured.

His lips hovered over hers. “Attraction. Intense…irresistible…attraction.”

Her heavy exhale flooded out of her like she’d been holding it for a minute straight.

“You telling me you felt that for Denton?” The name tasted like black licorice on his tongue. He fucking hated black licorice. “Huh, Liv?”

“You can still g-get what you need without the attraction being that explosive,” she whispered.

He tsked his tongue. “Not as much fun, though, is it? Besides, that means both of you are less motivated to be enthusiastic. And without enthusiasm, what’s the point of coming? Empty orgasms are a waste, Liv.”

His hand slipped down her waist, squeezing her hip.

She whimpered. “Better than not having any at all.”

His hand continued lower to her thigh and stroked, just as his mouth moved around to her ear. His teeth tugged on her lobe. “I disagree. When a man gets you in the sack, he should fill you up, drain you, and leave you wanting more. That’s his job. Any man who ever gives you an orgasm that you could take or leave, you kick him the fuck out of your bed.”

She gasped as his stubble scraped the sensitive flesh between the base of her neck and collarbone. “You’re s-saying you could do better?”

He gnashed his teeth, feeling feral as fuck. Only ever with this woman did it get so…primal. And Christ, they’d barely even touched. “Without a goddamn doubt.”

“Does that mean you’re volunteering?”

Everything went so still around them, he swore even the dust particles froze in mid-air. No more crackling of static electricity, no more popping of embers in the flames. Instead, the oxygen he sucked in became very dense. His lungs worked harder to push that air in and out. He knew how crucial his answer would be to whatever happened next between them. Did he want to slide between Olivia’s thighs and prove his point about just how empty all of her other partners had left her feeling? Hell yes.

But should he?

Her tits were pushing out the top of that romper, glistening with the lightest sheen of sweat. Her eyes were glazed, her body vibrating with her growing arousal. He knew he could take her right there and she’d be the fucking definition of enthusiastic. How many men on this earth had the willpower to resist such temptation?

“Or maybe I just don’t want you to sell yourself short,” he hedged.

Such bullshit. He was basically telling her she needed to aim higher when prowling for casual sex. Telling her exactly what to look for when shopping for a man to go to bed with. A man that wasn’t him. He should have never opened his fucking mouth in the first place.

“What if I want you to volunteer?”

His eyes fell shut.

Did she even realize what she was saying? Or was that the booze? Surely, Olivia Knight would rather belly flop into a pool of great white sharks than consider having sex with him. Although he couldn’t pretend her body wasn’t saying something vastly different.

A body that was…tipping to the side.

Just a tiny, microscopic inch. Like she was shifting her weight between feet. But it was enough to remind him of the reality of the situation. Whether or not she would remember this moment tomorrow, she had been drinking tonight. She was still tipsy, and he refused to put his hands on her without her being completely cognizant of him doing so. He had probably already taken it too far as it was.

But before he was forced to let her go, he buried his face in her hair and inhaled its fragrance. Just enough that he could fall asleep with that smell still tickling his senses. It reminded him of a lush rainforest, something he apparently found incredibly erotic. His dick pulsed against the confines of his jeans as that smell invaded his nostrils.

Her hands rose to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Which made the situation that much more torturous. She thought he was giving in, that he was seconds away from rocking her fucking world. Instead, he reached down and twisted the knob. When the door swung open, he had to catch her again before she sprawled out on her ass. That was enough confirmation for him that this was the right decision.

Then her eyes met his and he hesitated. Was that disappointment shining them up? Desire, maybe? He could even swear there was a plead in there somewhere. But all of it vanished from her face so quickly, he figured he must have been way off-base. Wishful thinking.

She sashayed backward with a dreamy smile on her face. Her limbs were loose, eyes half-lidded. “You’ve impressed me tonight, Sheriff.”

He sighed. Back to Sheriff.

“I’ve never known you to be the type to ignore the carrot dangling in front of your face.”

He snorted. Irony. “I’m usually not.”

His head shot up as her shoes hit the floor seconds before she flopped back onto the bed. A relieved breath escaped him when he realized she didn’t intend to start stripping in front of him. That carrot he couldn’t have ignored. Instead, she stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, and closed her eyes.

“Sometimes, I don’t think I hate you,” she murmured, already half asleep.

He took a step forward, making sure he’d heard her correctly. “What?”

It took her a second to respond. “’m not sure I ever did. Not really. I think I jus’ hated what you were. I looked at you and I saw…them together.”

His throat muscles constricted, cutting off his oxygen supply.

That was when it hit him.

Even if he and Olivia could somehow put the past behind them and become friends, the situation was still extremely fucked up. She undoubtedly hated his mother for taking her father away from her. Ben understood that and didn’t blame her for it. The thing was, Ben didn’t hate his mother. Didn’t even hate Olivia’s father. Jeff had rescued Angie from that abusive bastard Dwight and he loved her unconditionally. Would do anything for her. Jeff had given Angie the life she had always wanted. Ben wasn’t all that close with the man, but they respected each other. Ben honestly wished happiness upon both of them.

Olivia wouldn’t understand any of that.

And she definitely wouldn’t understand why Ben had talked to Jeff far more than she had over the past twelve years.

Before he could come up with a sensible response, Olivia threw her arm over her forehead. “Is it warm in here?”

Grateful for the distraction from his wayward thoughts, he went into the en suite bathroom and held a washcloth under the cold tap. Seconds later, he walked back into the bedroom—

To find Olivia sound asleep.

He was both relieved and a little crestfallen. While he hadn’t wanted to continue down the road they’d been meandering along with her last comments, he’d also wanted to get as much information out of her in her loose-lipped state as possible. More specifically, how she felt about him now.

It’s better this way.

He placed the cool washcloth across her forehead and pulled the sheets over her body. Then he—

Holy shit.

He was a fucking idiot.

A goddamn moron.

Why the hell had he brought her up to his room? Hers was downstairs on the main level. He hadn’t even been thinking as he’d carried her through the house and up those stairs. It was an automatic thing, to head up to his own room, even with her supported in his arms. Like muscle memory.

And now she was passed out soundly in his bed.

Fuuuuck.