~Ben~
“So, he tried to kill me this week,” Rina says as she takes a big bite of homemade pizza. The cheese is long and stringy, and she sticks out her pink tongue to catch it.
I’ve discovered that she also sticks out that tongue when she’s pushing a heavy weight, or when she’s maintaining her balance.
I’ve dreamed about that tongue.
Among other things.
“I think that’s his job.” Nic winks.
“Well, if so, he’s good at it,” Rina replies. “I could barely sit on the toilet yesterday. I had to get about halfway down and then just let myself drop. I don’t think I’ve ever been that sore.”
“It means it’s working,” I remind her and reach for another slice. Nic knows that pizza is my cheat meal, and she makes the best pepperoni I’ve ever had. She even makes the dough from scratch.
She’s the best friend there ever was.
“It should hurt less and less as time goes on,” Matt says. He walks behind Nic and runs his hand over her short hair, then gently squeezes her neck before sitting beside her.
“Not for a while yet,” I disagree, earning a glare from Rina. “This is literally your only job right now.”
“I know.” She sighs. “And I’m not a complainer. But does it have to hurt so much? At least Luke’s paying me well for the role. I can help a lot of girls with that money.”
I narrow my eyes on her. “What do you mean?”
“I meant to ask you what you do now that you’re not acting,” Nic says.
“I run a nonprofit down in Bend,” Rina replies. “I gather supplies for kids. We do a monthly drop-off at every school. Feminine hygiene products for girls whose families can’t afford or don’t bother to supply them at home. And each week, we put together snack bags for kids at all of the schools.”
“Wow,” Matt says. “That’s a huge undertaking, even in a smaller community.”
“There are hungry and underprivileged kids in every community,” Rina stresses. “I was a hungry kid, and not because my family couldn’t afford to feed me. Trust me, my parents did very well, thanks to my hard work. They withheld food from me because I had to look a certain way. I knew how to count calories by the time I was eight years old, and it led to an eating disorder later in life. No kid should be hungry, especially in a country as wealthy as ours.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Nic says. “And I’m so sorry that you went through that.”
“Thank you. We also do clothing drives at the beginning of the school year, and we supply backpacks full of school supplies.”
“And you do it all on donation?” I ask, so intrigued that I’ve set my pizza aside.
“Most of it,” she says. “I fronted all of the money when we started, and I’ve hit up a lot of very wealthy people in Hollywood for donations over the years. It was particularly gratifying when I reached out to the same directors who told me I couldn’t eat for three days before a scene.”
“Jesus,” Matt mutters. “Does that shit still happen?”
“Every day,” Rina confirms. “Not just to women, either. It’s a corrupt business, for many reasons. I left because I knew if I didn’t get the eating disorder under control, it would kill me. And I couldn’t do that and act in LA.” She pauses and glances around. “Please don’t repeat that.”
“We wouldn’t say anything to anyone about what you say,” Nic assures her. “In addition to Luke being in the family, we have Leo Nash, Will Montgomery, Amelia Montgomery, Kane O’Callaghan…well, you get the idea. Also, Matt’s a cop and never tells me anything good.”
“I tell you plenty,” he retorts. Nic rolls her eyes, and Matt narrows his. “Did you just roll your eyes at me, little one?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Looks like we’ll be having some fun later,” he mumbles before taking a drink of his soda.
“I miss the work,” Rina continues. “I know I’ve only been gone a week, but I enjoy it, and I miss it.”
“There are plenty of shelters that could use donations,” Matt suggests. “Especially women’s shelters.”
“You could do the hygiene packets for them,” Nic says. “Oh, and what about baby bags? A ton of women leave abusive relationships with babies in tow. You could do them by age group.”
“That’s a really good idea.” Rina seems to think it over. “But I think I’d need help stuffing bags and such.”
“We have an army of people who would love to help,” Nic says. “I know if we did a girls’ night, add in some wine and cupcakes, the Montgomery women would be happy to help put things together with you.”
“Really?” Rina’s face lights up at the idea. “I just got an anonymous donation the other day that would more than cover the costs. I would do it all under the nonprofit umbrella that I already own, so it would be simple. I can work on it in between torture sessions with Attila the Hun here.”
She points at me, making me laugh.
“That’s Ben the Hun to you.”
She snorts. “Matt, do you happen to know the names of a few of the shelters I can call?”
“I’ll write them down for you before you leave tonight.”
“Thanks.”
I had no idea that Rina was a humanitarian. It should have occurred to me to ask her what she’s been doing over the past several years, but it didn’t. I’ve been attracted to her physically since the moment she opened her door and then slammed it in my face. But knowing how passionate she is about giving back to the community makes her even more beautiful.
She’s gorgeous. She has a great work ethic, and she’s funny.
And she spends all of her spare time helping kids in need.
If that doesn’t finish the job of making me want her, I don’t know what would. And I do. I want her in my bed, against the wall, in the kitchen, and anywhere else I can get my hands on her.
Not because she’s famous. I don’t give a rat’s ass about that.
I’m attracted to Rina. The woman sitting next to me, gorging on delicious pizza and laughing with my friends. The woman who hates burpees and loves sugar. The woman who wants to put baby bags together for women who can’t afford to buy them for themselves.
Rina’s damn hot in so many ways.
“Where did you go?” Nic asks me, pulling me out of my reverie.
“Sorry. I was just thinking about tomorrow’s workouts.”
“Okay, that’s just mean,” Rina says. “I’m enjoying my cheat meal, on my rest day, and you’re busy thinking about torturing me tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
I grin as she glares at me and reaches for a chocolate cupcake.
“Just for that, I’m going to eat three cupcakes.”
“That’s fine. I’ll have you run an extra mile tomorrow.”
She bites into the cake and moans in happiness. “Oh my God. It’s worth the extra mile. What do you put in these? Crack?”
“Something like that,” Nic replies and starts clearing the table.
“I’ll help,” Rina offers, but Nic shoos her back into her seat.
“Matt and I can clean up. I’m just moving some of these dishes into the kitchen. Enjoy your sugar binge.”
“Oh, I am,” Rina assures her.
“I’m going to send some home with you, too.”
“I have until midnight to gorge on these,” Rina says. I don’t have the heart to tell her she’ll make herself sick. “Yay me!”
* * * *
“Do you want to come in?” Rina asks when I pull into her driveway. “Nic sent home two more cupcakes. I can’t eat all of this myself.”
I won’t have any of that sugar, but I’ll be damned if I’ll resist the invitation to spend more time with her. I follow her into the house. Rina flips lights on as we walk through the home to the kitchen.
She sets her little box of cupcakes on the kitchen counter and reaches into a cabinet for a plate.
Her blond hair is down tonight, falling in loose waves to the middle of her back. She always wears it up when we work together, so seeing it down is a treat. She’s wearing a light layer of makeup, and she’s dressed in a pretty red sweater and blue jeans.
I could eat her alive.
Rina sets a cupcake on a plate and licks frosting off her thumb as she passes it over to me, then picks up the other one, peels down the paper, and takes a big bite.
“This has to last me a week,” she says around a mouthful of food. She’s halfway into her treat when she looks up and sees that I haven’t touched the one in front of me, but I’m watching her in fascination. “You’re not going to eat that?”
“No.”
She stuffs the rest into her mouth and shakes her head. “It’s a shame it’ll go to waste. I can’t eat any more without putting myself in sugar shock, and it won’t last for another week.”
As she walks around the island to retrieve the plate, her arm brushes mine as she reaches past me. I instinctively take her hand, tug, and press her against me from knees to chest.
The pupils of her gorgeous blue eyes dilate as her gaze whips to mine before moving down to my lips, which tingle under her scrutiny.
“I’ve wanted to do this all damn week.” My lips descend on hers, light at first, just to get a taste. But when her sweet little tongue brushes against my lower lip, I’m lost, caught up in the smell, the taste, the feel of her pressed against me so perfectly, it’s as if she was made for me.
My fingers dive into her soft, thick hair, and I hold on as I kiss her senseless. Her hands glide from my shoulders, moving down my sides to fist in my shirt.
I want to boost her up onto the island and fuck her until neither of us remembers our names.
But we’re not ready for that. Hell, I’m not sure we’re ready for this.
But I can’t keep my hands off her. And I’m done trying.
She moans long and low in her throat. I come up for air long enough to nibble my way to the corner of her mouth. I kiss the dimple in her cheek and then move down to her jawline.
“You’re the only sweet thing I want to taste,” I whisper against her earlobe. “Jesus, you’d tempt a saint, Rina.”
She leans her forehead against my chest, and we both work to catch our breath. When she looks up at me again, she’s smiling.
“Did we just fuck everything up?” I ask.
“Not for me,” she says. “For the record, I’ve wanted you to do that all week. I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels the chemistry.”
“You’re not the only one,” I confirm. “It’s almost a visible thing between us. When I stretch you out in the gym, I have very unprofessional thoughts, and that’s not like me.”
She giggles and hooks a piece of her hair behind her ear. “It’s not like me, either.”
I lean in for one more kiss, though instead of the soft, gentle peck I intended, it turns into another inferno, leaving us both panting and glassy-eyed.
“Whoa.” I swallow hard.
“Yeah.” She blinks slowly. “Whoa.”
I grip her shoulders and set her back from me, then drop my hands, feeling immediately cold at the loss of connection.
“I should go,” I say, stepping away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“What time?”
“Six. I’ll have bikes with me. We’re going to ride along the waterfront.”
“It’ll be cold,” she reminds me.
“Wear a sweater,” I reply. “Layers. It would be great if you could get ugly overnight as well so I don’t want to kiss the fuck out of you anymore.”
“I’ll see what I can come up with.” She’s grinning from ear-to-ear now, and she’s not ugly in the least. Not at all.
Not even a little.
I need a cold shower.