The Seduction Hypothesis Read online

  The lull in conversation had run into awkward territory, much like their unintentional eye-fuck in the RV earlier. Thinking about eye-fucking threw Ben even further off track. He dug through his few functioning brain cells, and came up with the best thing he could.

  “I’m sorry I was a jackass before.”

  “I’m sorry I called you passive-aggressive,” she offered in return.

  “No, you were right. I totally was. I need to learn how to be whatever the thing is you’re supposed to be instead.”

  “Assertive?”

  “That. Assertive.”

  She cocked her head and gave him a look. Not quite rolling her eyes, but almost. Definitely skeptical. “That’d be an interesting development for you.”

  “What? I can be assertive.”

  “It’s okay, Ben, not all the wolves in the pack need to be the alpha.”

  Ouch.

  But that was what she wanted. She didn’t have to say it—he just knew. An alpha wolf, a representative manly male. How to square that with her infatuation, or whatever it was, with Ivan? Dr. Reynolds was hardly a quintessential leader of the pack. Even the pack of nerds. Ben couldn’t figure it out.

  But he’d been assertive earlier, sort of, with that stare back in the camper. Or maybe just plain aggressive. Holding Lindsey’s eyes, thinking about every time they’d ever done it, willing her to remember every time he’d made her scream. And unless he was very much mistaken, it had turned her crank hard and fast. If he tried it again, would it work the same way?

  Hoping he didn’t look like a psycho killer, Ben leveled his gaze at Lindsey as she straightened from her suitcase with her Slave Leia costume in hand. Ignoring that distraction with superhuman effort, he raised one eyebrow at her and repeated himself slowly and deliberately.

  “I can be assertive.”

  Whoa. She blushed.

  “O-okay.”

  She blushed and stammered. And had the same rabbit-in-the-cobra’s-thrall stare she’d had at that barbecue so many months ago, when she talked to Ivan about her godawful trip to the jungle. Now she was in Ben’s thrall. Could he keep her there?

  This definitely required further research. He decided to try being more assertive right then and there. Before Lindsey could raise her guard again, he closed the distance between them and kissed her, harder than he’d planned to.

  * * *

  Unfinished business. She’d known it the moment she heard Ben’s voice in the room, realized he was there due to some administrative error and not because he’d sought her out on purpose.

  Or rather, she’d known it from her own reaction to that realization, which was a flash of keen disappointment. She’d wanted to be sought out.

  If he’d walked in and done this right away, planted one on her, held her too tight for her to even consider getting away, she’d have let him. Even without the fumbling, awkward explanations and doublespeak to soften the approach. She’d wanted his body against hers since that moment in the RV, because she’d never really stopped wanting that, even when he left her. Even though she’d wanted additional things from him, she’d never stopped craving what they already had. She craved more of the same, even when it was occurring. Hell, right now she’d probably be humping his damn thigh if she could move enough to get one leg around it.

  So good, so sweet and right, the way their bodies and mouths meshed. They had always fit perfectly. Holding hands, kissing, sex, just sitting and talking, it didn’t matter. It had that meant-to-be feel to it, and when Ben had walked out it took Lindsey a month or more to believe it was really over for good. How could he leave, when she had been so sure they were made for each other?

  Ben held her by the nape of her neck as he kissed her now, his fingers half collaring her. His other hand pressed firmly on her ass, securing her hips in place against him so she couldn’t possibly mistake how turned on he was. He was hard as a rock, as steel, as that stuff Wolverine’s bones had been replaced with. And his mouth took and took, lips and tongue stealing her breath and her good sense with every suck and swipe and nip. He felt too good. She knew she was stupid to do this, to allow this, but she would worry about that later. His fingers pinched into the crease at the bottom of her butt, and she groaned at the pain and bucked against his adamantium erection.

  He raised his head and stared at her, body still sealed to hers, breathing fast and thready against her face. Lindsey swallowed and gasped for air, trying to think something like a coherent thought. Nothing came, only the sounds of their breathing and the rustle of fabric as their clothing rubbed together.

  Then he stepped back, without saying a word, lifted that eyebrow at her again—when had he learned to do that?—and grabbed his suitcase. He was out the door before she could think up a snappy comeback.

  Really, though, what was there to say to that?

  “Way to assert yourself...in your pants.”

  “Hey, sexy, wanna make use of my connecting door?”

  More like, “Worst. Idea. Ever.”

  That would have been the smart comeback. That or a resounding slap, like a heroine in an old movie. Or a good hard bite, like a wolf bitch who had no interest in mating with a young upstart, a pretender to the leader’s place.

  Not that she wanted an alpha all the time. But she couldn’t deny she’d enjoyed Ben’s attempt to play that part, even for a few seconds. Dangerously tempting, especially when she knew what he’d do if he found out just how far she’d once wanted him to take that role in the bedroom. Still wanted, frankly.

  But no, she’d shown the guy a simple amusing scene about an over-the-knee paddling and he’d lectured about feminism for ten minutes solid. Lindsey had no desire to repeat that experience, either the lecture itself or the burning humiliation at Ben’s response to her questionable choice in reading material. She hadn’t even gotten to the part where she wanted him to do that stuff to her. Overwhelmed by his political correctness, she’d put the comic aside and never raised the subject again.

  His nebulous jealousy about Ivan had resolved into an official issue around that time, but she’d since decided that was only the excuse he’d been looking for. She’d been too nonstandard for him, too comfortable at the fringes with her Cthulhu hip tattoo, her kinky comic books, her talk of piercing things below the neck, and her ever-evolving hairstyle. It had intrigued him at first, but ultimately it had all scared him off.

  She’d changed her hair again and finally gotten one of those nonstandard piercings after the breakup, but it hadn’t helped her feel any better. Lindsey made herself remember that as she unpacked the rest of her things, arranging her costumes carefully in the tiny closet. She’d been in love with Ben, and he’d said he felt the same. She thought they were each other’s One. Then he left her, and it had hurt more than she’d imagined possible. If he was sniffing around again, she’d have to decide whether it was worth the risk to let him have another chance. No matter how much she wanted to fall back into his arms and let bygones be bygones, she had to be smart this time. Things needed to be different.

  And if they weren’t, she’d have to be strong and forget all about the way Ben’s kisses made her tingle in her...special piercing.

  Chapter Four

  The inspiration came to Ben, as inspiration often does, unexpectedly. But as soon as he thought of it, he knew it was the right thing to do.

  It happened when Ben watched Ivan stand up in a conference session that first full day and gracefully acknowledge a science fiction writer’s thanks for consulting help on his astrophysics backstory. It was a cool moment, unexpected accolades for Ivan, borrowed glory for the rest of the group of friends sitting there. But the moment was more than cool for Ben. He listened to his not-quite-friend go into professor mode for about thirty seconds while he described his recent research into laser brooms, saw the expression on Cami’s face, and suddenly knew he had been thinking about things all wrong.

  Because somehow, in that few seconds, Ivan had transformed into an alpha wolf
. He owned that conference room. He owned Cami, who’d looked ready to swoon or possibly jump Ivan’s bones. For a few minutes after he sat down, people all over the room kept shooting glances at the row where they sat. There was a definite buzz. And Ivan took it all in without seeming to skip a beat. Not like he was vain, but like it was simply a matter of course to be recognized in this way.

  Weird, socially awkward, compulsive-schedule-loving Ivan was the man. Ben had somehow missed that fact, but there it was. Plain as day. Cami hadn’t missed it. Lindsey hadn’t missed it. And now that Ben was clued in, his mission was clear. Ivan wasn’t the enemy, he was a resource. Ben needed to suck it up, swallow his pride and previous jealousy, and ask the man for some advice on how to win his girl back. How to do that thing Ivan did. Or at least how to fake it with passing competence, not just by accident as he’d done a few times the day before, but on purpose and regularly.

  Step One: get Ivan alone. Easier said than done, when Cami was his constant companion and Ivan seemed reluctant to part with her. He was the man in the fan session, but out in the crowded corridors between exhibits in the main convention room, Ivan held on to his girlfriend like a kid with a blankie.

  “One-thirty is the next session,” he recited for at least the fourth time. “Room 126B. Closest escalators to the one hundred level are in the southwest corner.”

  “And we need to get there by one-ten to get good seats,” Cami finished for him. “We got it, sweetie. Ben, are you coming with us? It’s the one on budget costuming.”

  Ivan frowned down at his tablet, swiping over a color-coded floor plan. “We should have waited and gone to the repeat on Saturday. Today was supposed to be all fiction and literature. But it’s too late to change the schedule now.”

  The schedule. Ivan’s Achilles heel. “No, I’m heading to the alternate history panel. But hey, do you have a free block of time later, man? I wanted to ask you about something. Something kind of personal,” Ben added, smiling apologetically at Cami.

  “No blocks of time without Camilla. But you can have two-thirty to three-thirty with both of us at the bar back at the hotel. I left that free,” Ivan said with a note of pride, “for relaxing over a drink.”

  “And I appreciate it.” Cami patted his arm fondly but cast a curious glance Ben’s way. “I can only take in so much information before I need to process. And by process, I mean drink margaritas. So I’ll be busy doing that, Ben. Whatever it is you want to discuss with Ivan, I’ll do my best to ignore you and promptly forget whatever I accidentally overhear.”

  “Gotcha. Two-thirty it is, then.”

  * * *

  Lindsey had planned to attend a steampunk and alternate history costuming session on the first afternoon. Months earlier, at least. Now she was killing time by wandering the aisles between booths instead. She wasn’t a fan of the dense crowd, but was convinced that venturing anywhere near those sessions meant a risk of running into Ben. And it was entertaining to see all the minor celebrities and scope out the costumes, although after an hour and a half her interest was flagging.

  Her mind was running an endless loop of last night’s kiss, with her body supplying helpful reminders of all the responses involved. She felt taut, overstimulated, sultry with unsatisfied need. When she saw him again, as she knew she must, she wasn’t sure how she’d react. It had been months, after all, and she hadn’t been seeing anyone else. Standards and values aside, she had to consider the potential benefits of...was it a convention hookup when you’d already been with the person for such a long time? Lindsey decided it would still qualify. And she wasn’t really a hookup sort of girl. She’d never had a friend with benefits, and wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep Ben at that kind of emotional distance if she went to bed with him again.

  On the other hand, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to resist much if he made a concerted effort. Last night had thrown her, reminding her all too clearly that she wasn’t over him.

  A cracking noise drew Lindsey’s attention, and she rounded a corner booth to see a huge banner bearing a blow-up of a Balls ‘n’ Chain panel. Black and white and red all over, though only hints of red. But the real draw was directly in front of that, where a masked hunk in black leather pants was just pulling back his whip arm to strike another blow on the rounded, semi-clad ass in front of him. Lindsey recognized them immediately as two of the Balls ‘n’ Chain characters, Rick and Sadie.

  The victim was bound to a spanking horse, though she was making no effort to escape. When the flogger landed, in fact, she merely giggled and wagged her tush at the whip-wielder. There wasn’t much of a crowd in front of them. All the onlookers were lined up for signatures from the cartoonist who sat at a table just beyond the velvet rope that cordoned off the demonstration.

  “Ooh, harder,” she taunted her tormentor, “if you have the stones for it, naughty boy.”

  “Dammit, Sadie, you’re making me lose count. Now I have to start all over again.”

  “Arm getting tired, cream puff? I’ll trade places any time you like—ow!”

  This one had landed hard and fast, with a cruel flick at the end that seemed to dig into the tender flesh. The man rained five or six more down in rapid successions, his arm moving so quickly the flogger was a blur. The girl’s blond spiral curls bobbed with each impact. Lindsey stared, entranced, and throbbing between the legs with sudden need.

  “Smart-ass masochist earns...?” Rick asked.

  “An ass that smarts,” Sadie responded ruefully. The pouting was for show, though, and only lasted about five seconds.

  Lindsey hadn’t realized she’d drawn so close, but the masked man addressed his next remark directly to her.

  “And hellooooo, Sub Red.”

  She waved her fingertips, feeling a blush rise on her cheeks as some of the queued crowd shot her curious glances.

  “Dang. Please tell me you have a costume at this con. A skimpy, kinky, passably believable Red costume.”

  Sadie turned her head to get a better look, and let out a low whistle. “Oh my God. She really is Red. She’s a better Red than Amy. Hey, Andy, did you see this? Look at her!”

  The cartoonist half stood, craning his neck to see, then did a double take worthy of a cartoon. “Holy crap!”

  “Um...thanks?” Lindsey was starting to doubt either her own sanity or that of the assembled personnel at the Balls ‘n’ Chain booth.

  “Don’t freak out, honey,” Sadie reassured her, “you may be the answer to our prayers. Our usual Red had to cancel at the last minute, to—ugh. Mitch, lemme up so I can talk like a normal person, okay? And maybe without the audience. Hi, audience!”

  She beamed at the folks in the line, waving her hands within the limits set by the wide leather cuffs on her wrists. Most of them smiled or laughed, and several waved back. The masked man—Rick or Mitch?—already had her ankles freed, and had her hands loose in another few seconds.

  “Clear!” He swatted her on the butt. “We’ll be back in fifteen, folks.”

  “Put the sign up,” Andy the cartoonist called from the other side of the next fan in line.

  Rick dutifully leaned a board with a “Back at...” clock on the horse, and turned the clock hands to reflect a time closer to thirty minutes away than fifteen. Winking at Lindsey, he straightened and clipped his flogger to his belt, then held the rope up for Sadie to pass under it.

  “We have just time to make it to the hotel bar and back. Red, can we buy you a beer and proposition you?”

  * * *

  Tapping his rolled-up handouts nervously against his thigh, Ben scanned the bar and spotted Ivan and Cami at a booth. Ivan looked wrung out and was drinking a beer, which Ben had rarely seen him do. Cami, sipping a frozen margarita through a straw, seemed a bit more chipper as she waved Ben over.

  “They make these with fresh lime juice here,” she told him happily. “So good.”

  Ben opted for a beer instead, then sat dabbling his fingers in the water beading on the outside, trying to figure
out how to broach his incredibly awkward subject to the man opposite him.

  “Right,” Cami said after a painful minute or so of silence. “I’m going to put my earbuds in, listen to some music and read my email or something while you guys talk. Is that okay with everyone?”

  She said “everyone” but she looked at Ivan, who took a deep breath and nodded. A few seconds later, she was tucked into the corner of the booth, feet in Ivan’s lap, absorbed in her tablet. Ben and Ivan were as alone as they were likely to get.

  “Okay. So.” Ben sighed, unsure how to proceed. “So.”

  After another pause, Ivan leaned forward. “Camilla said I should warn you that you need to be blunt, because if you try to use implication I’ll never get it. She actually said ‘don’t let him beat around the bush.’ And she’s correct, I won’t get it if you do that. So since we only have—” he consulted his phone for the time. “Since we only have fifty-one minutes left, I suggest you tell me what this is about now, so we’ll have more time to discuss whatever it is.”

  Oh my God, he’s weird. But Lindsey seemed to like him, and Ben needed to know why, so he took Ivan’s advice and forged ahead. “Fine, here’s the deal. My girlfr...no, not my girlfriend right now. Lindsey. She likes you. Not like a crush, but there’s some thing about you that she’s really drawn to. You have this quality, and I can’t figure out what it is, but it really gets to her when you pay attention to her. You’re like a snake charmer. And I want to learn how to charm snakes. Or charm Lindsey. Or...fuck. If it were anybody else on the planet I wouldn’t ask about it, but I figured you wouldn’t be offended or weirded out because you’re never offended or weirded out. I want her back, man. I need her back. I’ll do anything. What is your damn secret?”