Trust Fall
Book One of The Trust Trilogy
Tess Quince
Chapter Six
HE'S GONE. BEN SHEPPARD IS gone. Danny's side of the bed is empty. The house has a vacant quiet to it. I'm sad and a little angry until I see a note on my nightstand next to a glass of orange juice.
It's a single piece of paper tented with a fold. Written on the side facing me is my name. 'Tess' is written in that precise script of his with a fine point blue pen. The way he crossed the T of my name and the angle of the two Ss is elegant and simply pretty. I want to keep looking at it, but curiosity gets a hold of me and I unfold it.
It reads: "I have to leave early for Crittenden. You are too beautiful to wake just to say something as simple as 'goodbye'. I would love to see you again and get to know you better.
P.S. Breakfast is warming in the oven."
I run my fingers over the words and smile. I lay back and stretch. The stone in my stomach seems to have moved lower into my abdomen. I push on it. It still feels hard. I put my thumbs up to the furrow in my brow. I can still feel it there. Maybe it's not as intense, but I run my thumbs across my brow like I do every morning.
I pull on my robe and leave it open as I walk to the kitchen. I like feeling the air flow across my skin. I also makes me feel sexy. I can't do this with Danny here. It's fun.
Ben has cut some fruit for me and left it on the kitchen counter. I peek in the oven. There's three waffles, sausage and some crisp bacon and a carafe of coffee. I skip the plate Ben put on a placemat on my kitchen island. I grab the fork beside it and devour the meat and waffles right off the pan. After those are done, I turn my hunger on the fruit and empty the carafe of coffee.
It's my entire day's calories in one fifteen minute binge, but I don't feel guilty and I'm still hungry.
I put the pan and bowl into the sink when I realize he made breakfast and did the dishes. I even have to step back to make sure they're not hidden. Nope. This fact, on top of everything else, makes me laugh and I throw my arms up like a cheerleader.
"Whoo hooo," I hear myself yell to the empty house.
I catch my reflection in the long mirror that hangs in my hallway. The robe is open fully. My legs look okay. My pubic hair is shaggy still, but Ben didn't seem to mind. I skip over the soft part of my lower tummy. No need to look at that. My breasts are small, but I've always liked my wide pale nipples. My bed head hair gives me an insane, just-fucked look. I like it. I'm smiling at myself. I give another "Whoo hoo". God Bless you, Ben Sheppard. I've been fucked and fed and I feel good.
I resist the urge to call him. I resist the urge to get in my car and drive to Crittenden to watch him work. To watch him build those conveyor machines he designs. To watch him lead men. Heck, I'd like to just watch him eat his lunch. I'd be his lunch. I giggle at the thought.
I walk up close to the mirror and look at my face. The furrow in my brow has lessened. There's still those two parallel creases. I frown at them, but they aren't as deep as yesterday. I worked with this guy named Blake a few years ago. Anytime I'd be having a bad day he would say, "Maybe you need to get laid." I hated him more every time he said that, but was Blake right? Did I just need to get laid? No. I was with Josh back then. I didn't need to just get laid. No. I needed to be made love to by a real man—a man who knew how to make love to a woman.
I chase Blake out of my mind and run my hands over my neck. I turn my head side to side and tilt it upward. It's faint, just some red splotches, but there is a thumb mark on the left side of my throat just below the jaw line and on the right a row of finger marks running down my neck. Not too noticeable, I tell myself. I rub them. I hold my hand over them. My fingers don't quite reach as far as Ben's did, but I give myself a squeeze and I feel my pussy loosen slightly and I become a little moist. Why does that do that to me? Why am I just finding out that it does that to me? What does that say about me? I pause. I feel good, I tell myself. Let it be. Don't spoil how you feel by thinking about it too much.
I put the second of my three allowed monthly Xs on my running journal and draw a bath. I am slightly sore. My pussy is a little tender, but it's mostly my abs and lower back that ache. All that coming, I guess. It's a good sore—like running a 18-minute 5k. It's a soreness my body needed.
I sit in the tub until the water gets cool then dry myself off, dress and head into work.
Danielle isn't at her desk when I get in. I walk into my office and there's a dozen pink roses and a small gift wrapped package on my side table.
I smile at the roses, smell them and pull out the card. There's simply a smiley face drawn in Ben's hand with his fine point blue pen then below his initial B with a period after it. It makes me chuckle. I carefully open the package. It's wrapped in a crimson paper and I feel bad when I tear it a little. I unfold the flaps and open the paper and see an elegant pair of panties. I shut my door quickly then go back to them. I lift them up and a card falls away. While it flutters to the ground, I notice Ben's script on it. I bend down to pick it up.
"To make up for the pair I tore last night," it says.
I blush and unfold the panties. They're the same style and size as the ones he ripped off me, but I finger the fabric and look over the stitching. They're much nicer than my pair. Wait, I think. The ones from last night? I didn't notice them on the floor or in the bed this morning. Where were they? Did he take them with him? I'm a little creeped out but more excited at the thought of my dirty panties in his pocket right now.
There's a knock on my door and I put the new panties in my purse—deep in my purse.
"Yes, Danielle."
Danielle pokes her head in like I might be changing, gives me a goofy smile, eases into my office and closes the door.
"So dish," she says.
"Dish?"
