Page 197 of Just for the Plot

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“I need to get started on this. I need to figure out when the truck is going to be done at the wrap shop, and I need to start ordering books and swag. I have no time.”

“Whoa, slow down,” he says, gripping my shoulders. “Bower, this is so much work. Let me help you.”

I shake my head. “No. I got it. You have other things you need to worry about.” I head toward his front door, but he grabs me by the hand.

“Bower, seriously.”

I turn to him and rest my hand on his chest, looking him in the eyes. How I didn’t see the adoration in his eyes before now is beyond me.He is one of the good ones. His concern is always for me.“Let me just get a head start on this, okay? My mind is racing and I need to get organized. I have no doubt I can get it done, but I have shoddy notes and a million things rolling around in my head. I need some quiet time to mesh it all together.”

He nods in understanding, thankfully.

“Can I bring you dinner?”

“Let me see how it goes.” I grip his chin and pull him down for a kiss, his lips lingering for a moment before I move past him. “I’ll text you.”

And then I’m gone.

Okay…so I haven’t texted him.

Not because I haven’t wanted to, but I haven’t had a moment to stop to think.

My phone buzzes again and I pick it up finally to see a few texts from Bennett.

Bennett:You hungry?

Bennett:Why don’t you take a break for a second and we can grab something to eat?

Bennett:Babe, I know you’re stressed, but it will help to just take a second to breathe.

Bennett:Bower…

I’m about to text him back when there’s a knock at my door.

Guilt washes through me as I get up from my couch, pushing past my notebook and crumpled notes. When I open the door, Bennett is on the other side with a grocery bag of food in hand.

“I’m sorry,” I say as I let him in.

He winks at me and leans in to kiss me before heading into the kitchen. “Don’t worry about it. Do you mind if I cook you some dinner?”

“Mind? Are you kidding me? That sounds like a dream. Do you mind if I keep working?”

“Not as long as you work topless.”

Crossing my arms and jutting my hip, I say, “Okay, but you have to cook topless.”

“Already planned on it, babe,” he says before pulling his shirt up and over his head and tossing it to the floor. My hungry eyes roam his chest, my mouth watering from the thought of dancing my fingers over every hard contour of his torso.

Even though I had more sex last night than I did in an entire year, I don’t feel like I got my fill. I need more of him.

“Work isn’t going to get done if you’re staring.” Then he motions a finger at me. “Off with the shirt, beautiful.”

I guess a deal is a deal. I remove my shirt and toss it with his, leaving me in a lavender lace bra.

I turn from him, only for him to clear his throat.

“Can I help you?” I ask.