I narrowed my eyes and scowled back at him. “If Ben asks me to marry him, I’m going to say yes.”
“I get that. But—”
“Here we are,” Kevin sang, sidling up to our table with a large tray balanced on one arm. “Sorry for the wait,” he continued, distributing the plates around the table. I stared down at my steamed mussels and pasta, thankful for the interruption. I swirled linguini around my fork and felt a gentle, familiar hand on my back.
“Perfect timing,” Ben said, sliding back into his seat. “I’m starving.”
“Is everything okay? You were gone awhile,” I whispered while Walt was distracted by Kevin.
“I’m fine,” he insisted. He spread his napkin across his lap and sprinkled salt on his swordfish.
He’s up to something. But it has to be something innocent. I know him better than Walt. Besides, if he were a player, he wouldn’t have stuck around for an entire year.
Kevin carried the tray back to the kitchen and Walt turned to Ben with a somewhat forced smile.
“Emily invited me to come watch some of your games at the club. How many teams do you coach?”
“I coach one basketball, one football, and one baseball team,” Ben explained. “But I coordinate all three programs.”
“You’re a busy man,” Walt observed.
“I like what I do,” Ben replied with a casual shrug.
“You know, I was quite the football player back in high school. Maybe I could come out and coach a few games with you.”
I could tell Ben was taken aback by the suggestion, but he handled it well.
“I’d enjoy that very much, Walt. I’ll email you the team’s schedule.”
Ben’s phone vibrated and he pulled it from his pocket before slowly rising to his feet.
“Speaking of the club, this is one of my team moms. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
“Of course,” Walt insisted with a dismissive wave.
Ben strode quickly out of the dining room and I turned to my uncle, my eyebrow cocked again.
“Five minutes ago, you were practically begging me to get rid of him. Now you’re volunteering to coach pee wee football?”
“Yes.” He lifted his glass and swirled the liquid. “I’m going to give him a chance because you asked me to. And you’re going to think long and hard about what I asked you to do. Deal?”
“Deal,” I agreed. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was convinced that once Walt spent some one-on-one time with Ben, he’d understand why I had no intentions of leaving him.
***
“Thank you for suffering through that with me,” I told Ben, kicking off my shoes. I sat down on his bed and started pulling off my jewelry.
“It wasn’t that bad,” he assured me. “I learned not to take Walt’s jibes personally a long time ago. He’s protective of you. I get it. He’ll have to warm up to me sooner or later because I’m not going anywhere.”
I laid my rings on the nightstand and started stripping out of my clothes. I had more than sleeping on my mind, but Ben didn’t seem to get the hint. He tossed me a clean t-shirt and stepped into the hallway.
“I’m going to make a drink. Do you want anything?”
“No,” I called after him.
I tossed the t-shirt to the floor alongside my discarded clothes and wiggled between the sheets in nothing but my white lace panties. A few minutes later, I heard the television spring to life and groaned, feeling the spark of arousal doused. I leaned over the side of the bed and retrieved the t-shirt. I pulled it over my head and made my way to the living room. Ben was stretched out on the couch with a scotch and soda, his eyes fixed to a baseball game.
“I thought we were going to bed,” I reminded him with a pout.
“I was just going to check the score. But it’s all tied up at the end of the sixth. Why don’t you lay down and watch it with me?” he suggested.
I sighed and squeezed onto the couch beside him.
“We can’t fall asleep out here again,” I warned. “Last time, I had a crick in my neck for three days.”
“Shh,” he said and nodded toward the TV.
If Linda could see me now, I’d never hear the end of it. I think this is the definition of vanilla.
Ben propped his elbow on the arm of the couch and took a long drink of his scotch. He covered my bare legs with a blanket and settled back down behind me. I waited until the commercial break to make my move. I turned in his arms, pushing my hips into his.
“I really do appreciate the way you handled yourself tonight. It reminded me why I love you. And it made me want to show you just how much I love you.”
I brushed my lips gently across Ben’s and stroked his face with a teasing finger.
“Is that so?” he mumbled, leaning into my touch.
I nodded and let my tongue dance into his mouth. I kissed him passionately, grinding my body into his. But I felt no response below Ben’s waist. The baseball announcer’s voice filled the room again, and Ben ended things as quickly as I’d started them. He reached for his drink and I rolled over in defeat.
When did we stop having sex? This time last year, we couldn’t take our hands off of each other. Is it normal for the passion to fade so fast? Is this just part of the package when you finally find the person you’re supposed to be with? Is he just not attracted to me anymore?
I tried to tell myself I was overreacting. Ben and I were only having sex about once a week. But it wasn’t as if we never touched each other.
He just has a lower sex drive. All relationships are hot in the beginning. It’s normal that we’re not ripping each other’s clothes off anymore. But I’d think I’d at least get a rise out of him.
I laid beneath Ben’s arm until I heard his soft snores, my teeth grinding harder with each exhale. I flipped off the television before waking him and dragging him to the bedroom.
“I didn’t see the score,” he mumbled.
“You’ll see it in the morning,” I promised.
We stumbled into the bedroom and collapsed onto the mattress. Ben reached for me with a sudden urgency, pulling me roughly against his body.
This is what I’m talking about.
I found his lips with mine and kissed him hungrily, pushing him against the headboard. I climbed into his lap and pulled the t-shirt over my head, and he groped at my breasts with his mouth. I rocked against him, determined to make him hard.
“Let me kiss it,” I whispered into his ear.
Ben let out a happy groan and unfastened his belt. I tugged down his slacks and boxers before diving for his cock.
I took the head into my mouth, licking and teasing with everything I had. Despite my best efforts, he remained limp in my hand.
“I’m sorry, Em,” he finally groaned. “I don’t think this is going to work.”
I crawled off of him and collapsed on the other pillow. “Is something wrong?” I whispered. “Did I do something, or not do something?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he assured me with a yawn. “I’m exhausted, that’s all. The overtime I’m putting in at the club is draining me. I still find you incredibly sexy.”
“You’re just tired?” I pressed.