Emily’s Diary – Entry 24

The Man Who Never Touched Me

I'd never had a recurring dream before. Definitely not the kind that leaves you waking up drenched in sweat and shaking. I knew someone who got chased through weeks of dreams by a rabbit with an evil grin and a giraffe. I'd always counted myself lucky I never had to go through anything like that.

Until now.

The dream demon finally caught up with me too. Twenty-eight years of pent-up force.

It sent Ben.

Naked.

The dream started innocently enough. I arrived at Ben's blue yacht at dawn. I had to rush so I wouldn't miss the departure, since this time he hadn't picked me up by car. The boat rocked silently on the water, not a soul in sight. I stepped onto the deck.

Dead silence.

Then I spotted Ben in the half-light.

He was sitting there stark naked, legs sprawled apart. He didn't say a word, just beckoned me closer.

I got furiously angry. Rage tore through me. I raised both fists and started tearing into him, my face twisted with fury, but all that came out was some kind of duck-like quacking. Not a single real word made it out of my throat.

Ben just grinned and beckoned me over again.

So I stormed over, seething, and climbed into his lap.

The next thing I knew, I was moaning out loud, giving myself over to him completely.

I woke up to that horror on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. And the most ridiculous part is that Ben became the best lover of my life without ever laying a finger on me.

Whenever I thought about trying to talk Ryan into a nooner, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Next to Ben, he suddenly seemed small, scrawny, childish. And that was despite the fact that I'd been perfectly happy with him until then. More than happy. I'd loved being with him.

I tried to reason with myself. This isn't good. I need release. But my body dug in its heels and refused. Then again, Ryan had all but vanished — hadn't reached out in weeks. Somewhere deep down I know it's summer break and the kids are with him almost constantly. I see them from my window all the time. No idea what their mother's up to. Still, the least Ryan could do is call and tell me he's busy.

Apparently he's not that mature after all.

The flesh-and-blood Ben, of course, didn't keep me waiting long. Well — those three days he stayed silent felt like an eternity, but at his age that's probably just standard operating procedure. At least I assume it's part of his whole seduction playbook. Gentle courtship, big drama, a romantic almost-date with no kiss or anything else, then the vanishing act. Then, once he figures his prey can't stand the ache anymore, out comes the phone call in that low, rumbling voice.

He called Wednesday night.

The second I saw his name on the screen, I nearly passed out. My heart started pounding, my stomach twisted into knots, my hands and legs shook, my throat closed up — all at once. It's a miracle I even managed to answer. Actually speaking turned out to be even harder, with this enormous lump sitting in my throat.

"What would you say to an easy little evening sail?" he asked, in that voice that seemed to go straight down between my legs.

I had to curl up on the couch just to squeeze all that tension out of my body.

"Easy for me, I mean," he added. "Since you'd be the one driving."

I laughed nervously.

"That would be quite the trick. And a pretty expensive one, too."

"Hmm. All right, I'll help you out a little at the start."

I don't know how an ordinary, few-word sentence can turn a person on like that, but I thought I was losing my mind.

I took a lukewarm bath before the date. If I hadn't already been trembling from that alone, I'd have gone cold on purpose, hoping the shock might knock some sense into me.

I was terrified that the moment I got close to him, I'd end up breathing into his ear: take me, right now. With arms as strong and muscular as his, nothing would stand in Ben's way.

It was probably written all over my face.

I tried to seem casual, but the second he greeted me with a peck on the cheek and ran his hand down my arm, that plan fell apart completely. Whenever I wasn't staring at his mouth, I was staring at every other bare inch of him. His neck. His ear. His knee — whatever life happened to put in front of me. God, it was embarrassing. I never want to know what my face looked like while I ogled him.

The final blow came from the driving. Ben pressed in close behind me. Yeah — I'm pretty sure that was written across my forehead too: I want you, so do whatever you want with me.

He pressed against me and put his hand over mine. My back, my ass, the back of my hand — all of it went up in flames instantly. I obviously couldn't see a damn thing. If he'd let go of me for even a second, I would've smashed that massive boat to pieces.

When he dropped me off, he didn't kiss me. He walked me to the door, then rested his palm on my back and left it there, lingering.

"If you're up for it, we could do something again sometime," he murmured.

My throat tightened. I had to swallow. I hope he didn't hear it. It sure echoed in my own head, but I'm choosing to believe the street noise drowned it out.

"Anytime," I answered, my voice weak.

He arched that gorgeous, masculine eyebrow of his, teasing.

"Really?"

All I could do was nod.

Then I hurried to punch in my door code. I had to clench my hand into a fist and jab the buttons with one finger, because my whole arm was shaking.

I won't even bring myself to describe Friday's dream. It was so filthy that even I couldn't process it. This time, I was the one who made the first move.

Saturday, the others came over, just like I'd promised Adele.

It never even crossed my mind to cancel, even though I was hopelessly behind on work. No matter what I tried to focus on, fantasizing about Ben's naked body derailed every attempt at getting anything done.

In the end, I just dumped everything into the translation software and hoped for the best. Reviewing it properly takes forever, and sending it off without checking is a real gamble — but I'd completely lost my mind. I'll chew through it tonight. Worst case, I won't sleep.

So, Saturday.

Adele showed up around four; Sofia and Mark a bit later. Adele brought grilled cheese and turkey from the restaurant, along with a French salad and Russian potato salad she'd packed to go with it. Sofia, as usual, showed up with dip and fresh vegetables cut into neat, appealing strips. Mark took charge of the sangria, following an original recipe, no less.

God, once this six-month project wraps up, I owe them a serious spread — food and everything else. I'll spend a while making it up to them. I could start in September with Adele, helping her get ready for her bar exam...

We hadn't even finished setting the table when, completely out of nowhere, I announced to everyone bustling around the patio table:

"I want to sleep with my client."

For a second, it was like someone had hit pause on the film. Everyone froze solid. Sofia turned to stone mid-lean over the table. All the strength Mark had left went into scrunching his face into a grimace. Adele was flat-out in shock.

I've lost my mind.

For a split second I hoped it really was just a movie, or a dream. That I could just rewind it and undo the whole thing.

Adele's curiosity overpowered her shock with superhuman force.

"The billionaire yacht guy?"

Nobody had said anything about him being a billionaire, but clearly Adele had been fantasizing about Ben too. At least about his money and his social status.

"Hey! Wait! What?" Mark snapped.

Sofia's eyes flashed at the sight of her partner's outburst. She seized the moment immediately, not about to let it slip by. Finally, a decent catch on the horizon — someone who could finally pull me away from Mark for good.

"You're young, Emily, there's nothing to think about here. Do it if you want to. There'll be other clients."

"You're talking about Thessa's business, which Emily's about to torch," Mark cut in rudely. "How would you feel if I screwed your clients?"

Sofia straightened up and skewered her visibly jealous partner with an ice-cold stare.

"I work at a private clinic that, in case you hadn't noticed, is not mine. If we split up, you can go sleep with whoever you want after that. Let's just get through the formalities first."

Nice, right?

All I want is to end up in someone's bed, and my friends start going at each other's throats over it.

I don't get why Sofia is still so hung up on the past, either. I was with her guy a million years ago, and she knows perfectly well I couldn't care less about Mark anymore. I'm starting to get pretty fed up with Sofia too. She's sweet, domestic, smart, capable, but come on. Can we please move on from our university years already? If Mark still gets turned on by me, she needs to sort that out with him. Break up with him or whatever. I don't know.

"Okay!" I raised my voice. "Subject closed. Thanks for nothing."

I poured myself a big glass of sangria, raised it high, and gave the three bewildered faces around me a questioning look.

Adele, on autopilot, picked up the pitcher and filled the other three glasses. I waited until everyone had their own in hand.

I forced a wide grin onto my face.

"Glad you're all here. Cheers."

A few bites in, Sofia guiltily touched my arm.

"I'm sorry, Emily. I was out of line. I have no right to ruin the one afternoon you finally get to relax. I'm working on it. Trying to get a handle on the jealousy that creeps up on me sometimes."

I'd braced myself for a lot of things, but not that. I glanced over at Adele, hoping she was paying attention and taking notes on how to apologize properly. Sadly, she was too busy fiddling with her phone.