Free Working It by Kendall Ryan Page A

yawned. “I guess the wine hit me pretty hard.”
    Ben’s lips curved upward. “Was it the wine or the orgasm?”
    “Shh. Hush.” I smiled.
    “Night, darling.”
    “Night night.”
    Ben, still smiling, looked down at me. “Thanks for tonight. It was good to go out with someone who’s not looking for me to be the guy they see in the pictures.”
    “I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to be yourself.”
    He brought his hand to my jawline and his thumb skittered along my cheek. “I did. Thank you.”
    “Sleep well.”
    He smiled softly. “We’ll see. I’m not the best sleeper.”
    I frowned. What did that mean? Wasn’t sleep a vital bodily function needed for survival? I knew it was pretty much one of my favorite things in the world. “Well, if you can’t sleep, you know you can text me.”
    “Can I now?”
    Captain fucking obvious. Nice one, Emmy . I simply nodded.
    “I’ll keep that in mind.” His gaze lingered on mine for a moment, then he strode toward the door and left without another word. But really, what was there to say? Tonight had been nothing like I had expected.
    After he left, I reluctantly left the warm cocoon of the bed to brush my teeth and change into my pajamas before crawling under the covers. I was nowhere near asleep when my phone chimed with a new message.
    Ben: Are you awake?
    Wasn’t there some rule about texting a man back after midnight? I glanced at the clock. It was 12:20. I didn’t care. I would break the rules for Ben.
    Me: Yes. Hi
    Ben: You sure it’s wise to text me back when you’re in bed, Miss Clarke? Now that I’ve got that visual in my head . . .
    Me: Yes.
    Ben: He misses you.
    There was a dimly lit picture of Ben lying in bed. Just his chest, abs, and black boxer briefs, which were nicely filled out in the front.
    I smiled to myself and shook my head. My exhaustion took a backseat if it meant flirting with Ben was an option. I liked that he’d texted me just moments after leaving. I liked the idea that he was still thinking of me. My brain refused to focus on anything else. I studied the picture more closely, imagining licking those grooves in his abs, working my way lower to bite his cock through the fabric of his boxers. Something about this man brought out my primal side.
    Me: Are you hard again?
    Ben: Nah
    Me: He looks that good just being lazy?!
    Who was this girl? And what had she done with careful, straight-laced Emmy? Ben turned me into a flirty version of myself I didn’t quite recognize, but liked all the same. I giggled silently, my eyes glued to my phone and waiting for his response.
    Ben: You can play with my cock any time.
    Shit. Just as quickly as it had appeared, my smile faded. Panic flared through me. I couldn’t be his booty call for the next three months. Could I? I was treading on dangerous ground here. He was so good-looking and charming; I knew I was already falling for him in a matter of days. He’d already told me he wasn’t looking to be tied down. . . . I couldn’t be his dirty little secret, wasn’t cut out for that kind of frivolous relationship. My heart would never survive it.
    Ben: That was fun.
    Me: Yes it was.
    I needed to find a way to tell him that wasn’t happening again. I released a heavy exhale and my phone chimed again.
    Ben: I want to fuck.
    Me: Ben, I don’t do the casual sex thing.
    Ben: No worries, doll.
    I had no clue how to interpret his last text. Should I not be worried because he didn’t either . . . or because this was just harmless flirting? Get a grip, Em! God, we were coworkers. What had I been thinking shoving my hand down his pants tonight? I didn’t want to sound like a dipstick, but I needed him to understand I was not some hussy he could have his way with.
    Me: Tonight was fun, but we’re coworkers, Ben. That can’t happen again. Cool?
    Ben: Whatever you want.
    His message did nothing to calm my anxieties. What did I want? And why was I suddenly flooded with