Once Upon A Mattress. Kathleen O'Reilly

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      BEN WANDERED through the hallways late into the night, hoping he looked like the proprietary owner rather than a paranoid Director of Security. No one seemed to think it strange that Ben, who never worked more than thirty hours a week before, was now stalking the halls like a man bent on worldwide domination.

      That was a laugh. All he wanted was his family back together.

      Worldwide domination was probably easier. Actually, getting his family back together looked pretty much impossible. His mom acted too accepting of the divorce, his father was ready to audition for Fear Factor. MacAllister Beds was all that was left.

      Gradually, the plant had emptied, the parking lot vacated. Now it was time.

      He went to the research center and picked his spot carefully. The bed across from room number eight.

      It sounded like a bad cable movie. Typical Thursday night fare.

      He shook his head, tossing the thought aside, then he shut off the lights. Instantly, the room turned black as pitch, empty. He settled himself on the bed, crossing his arms across his chest.

      Eleven…midnight. Still nothing. He tossed on the mattress, wishing for the familiar bed in his apartment. Another storm raged outside, the cooling masses pressing against the heated air. Nothing to worry about.

      Finally, convinced he was paranoid and all was actually right with the world, Ben fell asleep, dreaming of lavender and the green eyes of a cat.

      DETERMINED TO HAVE a solid alibi, Hilary decided to work in her office until midnight, or until her body quit, whichever came first. To be honest, the world was getting a little hazy and she wasn’t exactly sure what was what.

      Could be the early onset of a cold. She should have stocked up on Vitamin C.

      She made due with two cold tablets sans water. Her throat had expanded and she wasn’t sure that the water would have gone down. Her voice had dropped two octaves since this afternoon and soon it would be gone altogether. She liked talking to herself as her voice disintegrated—pretending she was Mae West. After all, a woman needed role models.

      Feeling a little giddy, she did a short bump and grind to get into her sleep shirt and shorts.

      By the time she reached the third floor, she was pretty well wiped. Walking like the zombie she was, she thought she’d returned to the room she’d been in the night before. Pulling her pillow from her backpack, she inhaled the soothing barley with a heavy sigh. At least she could still breathe.

      She collapsed on the bed and then climbed under the crisp sheets. Her eyes felt so heavy, sleep was so close. Thank God for MacAllister Beds.

      THERE WAS A HAND on her breast. A possessive hand. Hilary smiled drowsily at the familiar warmth. Mark always did have a perfect sense of timing.

      The alarm began to beep, and Hilary reached over to shut it off.

      Then she rolled closer to him, basking in the heat that radiated from him. Ah…he felt so good. Slowly her fingers crept underneath his pajama shirt to find hard muscles beneath.

      It must be the gym. She had told him it would pay off.

      His lips trailed over her neck, and she could smell his new cologne. It was milder than what he usually wore, but underneath she could smell him. Strong, bold, masculine.

      She tried to open her eyes, but she felt too lazy, too adored. Diving into this warm pool of hedonism, Hilary simply let him dally at her neck. Never had she felt so hot. It was like fire everywhere his lips touched.

      She wrapped her arms around him, bringing him fully on top of her. With a contented sigh, she absorbed his weight, his strength. Her hands splayed over his back, over his butt. There she lingered, wondering why she had never noticed exactly how built he was.

      Tomorrow she would tell him. Or today. Maybe she could tell him yesterday. Oh, she was getting silly.

      Then his lips took hers in a kiss that gave no quarter. She had never let him kiss her before she had brushed her teeth, but today she didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to leave this marvelous world where kissing was so much fun.

      And soon she was responding to his kiss and forgot all about her morning breath. It felt amazing to just live in the moment.

      He pushed up her shirt, and she felt cool air against her overheated flesh. But soon his hands were there, hard and daring.

      Everywhere they touched her, she responded. It was as if she was new, unfamiliar.

      His hands cupped her breasts, and his fingers stroked her СКАЧАТЬ