On an Edge of Glass

thighs straddling his waist, I begin the process of slowly unbuttoning his shirt.  Ben’s eyes smolder as he follows the progress of my fingers. 
    I graze my nails under the collar of his shirt and watch, entranced, as his skin breaks into chills.  He closes his eyes, and lifts his lips to mine.  Ungluing me, Ben slides his tongue against the roof of my mouth.  His warm breath seeps inside of me and those strong musician fingers dig into my waist, urging me on.  I press down against the hard denim of his jeans.     
    Ben lets his head drop back against the mattress.  “Oh God.  Ellie, either you’re trying to kill me, or this is a ploy so that I don’t finish beating your sorry ass at Scrabble.”
    I lean in , letting my moist breath mingle in his hair.  “You figured me out.  I’m an evil mastermind who is currently plotting to usurp your Scrabble throne with my very inappropriate tongue.”
    Ben’s eyes go back in his head.  He groans and squeezes me tighter.
    I giggle and kiss hi s earlobe.  “Do you surrender?”
    Cradling my back , Ben flips me so that I’m beneath him.  He licks my lips and drags a finger down the center of my body, pulling the fabric of my sweater as he goes.  “Hell yes.”
    His de licious weight has me pinned in place.  When he parts my leg with a knee, I fall away.  The movement of our mouths becomes harder, more frantic.  He works on my clothes.  Then there is a thumb, inching toward my naked breast, moving in tantalizing circles over my bare skin.  With a palm cupped on me, Ben shifts and murmurs something low in my ear.  I don’t understand what he says.  I am lost—on a wave, with his fingers like the warm wind on my skin.
     

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    Thong or Bikini Briefs?
     
     
    “Impulsive Indigo for you,” he shoves the bottle into my hand. “And Perfectly Pink for you,” Mark twists on the couch toward Ainsley.
                  “Are you sure?” I ask, turning the bottle over as I inspect the bluish purple nail polish.  “I usually stick with reds or pinks.”
                  Mark lifts one eyebrow.  “Well, you’ve seemed so daring and open to new things lately.  I didn’t think you would mind something as trivial as trying a new shade of nail polish.”
                  I roll my eyes at the double meaning that Mark’s throwing in my face.  When I’m sure that Ainsley’s not looking, I stick my tongue out at him.  He throws his head back and laughs openly. 
                  Payton steps through the door.  She thrusts her bag over the back of the couch in one movement.  Yanking her earbuds from her ears, she slides to the floor at my feet.  Then she reaches for a bottle of nail polish from the plastic bin resting in Mark’s lap. 
    “Are we doing nails?”  She asks.
                  “No, we’re solving the world’s energy crisis.”  Mark slaps her hand away and searches through the bottles.  He hands her a color that falls somewhere on the spectrum between pukey green and mud brown.  “This one.”
                  Payton contorts her face in a grimace.  “That nail polish looks like liquid poo.”
                  Mark’s smile is deceptively sweet.  “I think liquid poo is more commonly called diarrhea.  And, if you want my opinion, I think the color perfectly matches your demeanor.”
                  Ainlsey and I laugh, but Payton is not amused.  She abruptly moves her bag and launches herself onto the couch, shoving her hips in between Mark and me unceremoniously.  She grabs the bin from him. 
    “ I don’t even know why that color exists in nail polish form, or why we own it.  This ,” she says, taking out a silvery glitter polish, “is more like it.”
                  Mark sighs and scoots his butt over to make the seating arrangement more manageable.  He pulls on Ainsley’s hand and motions for her to splay her fingers so that he can reach each nail easily. 
    “ Who thinks that we should order pizza tonight?”  He asks.
                  “Mark Temple, you don’t live here,” Payton asserts, finding a long black nail file among the bottles of polish. “So you don’t get a say in what we eat for dinner.”
                  I give her one of my looks.  The one that would make Darth Vadar shake in his helmet. “No Payton, but if you want him to give you a