Photograph

16 - Am I Safe in the Water?

"Oh God. Just when I thought it was safe to go back in the water."

Hell's bells, could this man get any sexier? It's simply not fair to the female libido. There should be an Ovary Destruction Board to lodge complaints to or something, or maybe the Men in Black could wave their little memory wiping thingy around whenever we're affected by unfiltered sex appeal and general gorgeousness. Is that a word? It should be.

The cause of the problem? Well, let's see. Item one: I hadn't seen Ben for five days; item two: during that time he apparently had not shaved; item three: his hair had been cut short at back and sides but left a little longer on top; item four: he had started putting back a little of the weight he'd lost to film Sherlock. Overall effect: when Ben answered his door I was faced with glorious auburn waves my fingers just itched to play in, stunningly buff abs and pecs outlined perfectly by a fitted t-shirt and to top it all off, gingery chin scruff that caused all kinds of clenching and tingling to my lady parts and that I couldn't wait to feel against my bare skin. Anywhere. Everywhere.

Proclamation: To all future directors, producers, casting agents or whoever hires Ben for movie, television or stage roles - every character he plays must henceforth and for all perpetuity look exactly as he does now. No exceptions. This will ensure hordes of women buy tickets to see him and you will all be amazingly successful.

"Am I the shark in this scenario?" He reached out a hand to pull me inside, returning my thoughts to the present as he gave me that little half smile that always turned my knees to jelly - or in this case, jellyfish.

"Oh no, Sexybatch, you are the water." I couldn't help it - okay, I have no restraint, I accept this - I reached up and ran my fingertips softly through the fledgling beard that was having such an effect on my reproductive system. My eyes closed involuntarily and I'm pretty sure I moaned deep in my womb. Holy catfish! Right now I was intentionally forgetting everything I had learned in swimming lessons so I could drown in this man.

"Cara."

"Mmm?" Opening my eyes, I took hold of the front of his shirt to pull him closer for a kiss. I half expected his lips to taste of saltwater and sea air when I nibbled and licked gently at them, my skin brought tinglingly alive by the friction of his facial hair against my cheeks - skin that seemed to have become achingly sensitive in the blink of an eye. One hand skimmed up the column of his neck to play with the hair at his nape while the other buried itself deep in the waves of curls tumbling over his forehead. While he kissed me back with obvious equal enjoyment, his lips left mine far too soon.

"Darling, we're not alone."

Oh my God. I felt like I'd unwillingly taken part in the ice bucket challenge. "Please tell me it's not your parents," I whispered, burying my head in his chest in my mortification.

"No." Dammit, the man sounded amused.

"Aunt or uncle? Your sister? Any relative at all?"

"No." This time he actually chuckled out loud. "Come and meet Tom."

Incredibly relieved that my behaviour had not been overheard by a family member, I held tightly to Ben's hand as he led me to the lounge where another tall, handsome actor with reddish curls and long slender frame rose from the couch to greet me.

"Hello Cara, it's a pleasure to meet you." He proffered a hand and for the second time since meeting Ben I found my knuckles being kissed.

"It's lovely to meet you too, Tom." I glanced at Ben. "You're letting the team down Cumbers, just so you know." Both men looked at me with puzzled faces. "The Chivalrous Gentlemen's Club," I added, "Chris and Tom have now both kissed my hand but there hasn't been a single solitary sign of such chivalrous behaviour from your camp."