# Chapter 32: The Risk of Laying It All on the Line
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? I hope you're ready for one of the most emotionally charged, heart-wrenching, and ultimately breathtaking chapters of Bennett and Bower's journey. Today, I'll walk with you through Chapter 32 of **"Just for the Plot"** —a chapter that takes us on a wild ride from desperate hope to crushing heartbreak, and then to something so raw, so intimate, that it might just leave you breathless. So settle in, grab some tissues, and let's dive in.
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From the moment the plane touched down after the game, Bennett was a man on a mission. They'd won—a huge victory for the team—but Bennett couldn't give a single damn about it. Every fiber of his being was fixed on one singular thought: **Bower**. He rushed through the locker room, practically shoved his teammates onto the plane, and spent the entire hour-and-a-half flight feeling like it was five hours long. He told himself that if he could just *talk* to her, everything would be okay.
He fucking believed it.
By the time he hit his neighborhood, it was eight at night. He flew through the streets, parked his car without ceremony, and practically sprinted to the elevator. He jabbed the button for her floor and hammered the close-door button, swearing when it felt like it took forever. As the elevator climbed, he rehearsed his words—what he'd say, how he'd approach her, how he'd possibly beg if that's what it took. He wasn't opposed to begging. Not for her.
But when the elevator doors parted and he rounded the corner to her apartment, the universe had other plans.
He stepped up to her door, took a deep breath, raised his hand to knock—and the door swung open before his knuckles could connect.
"Bennett," Bower breathed, shock written across her gorgeous face. She was a vision in a red dress that hugged every curve of her stunning frame. Her hair fell in soft, curling waves, and red lipstick painted those irresistible lips. She looked like everything he'd ever wanted—except she wasn't for him. Not tonight.
Then the worst possible thing happened. A familiar voice called out from behind her.
"Bennett, my man!" Cougar stepped in behind her, a grin on his face, and pulled Bennett into a rough hug. "Dude, I'm so glad I'm seeing you in person. Thanks for hooking me up with your friend. Seriously, you did me a real solid."
When Cougar released him, Bennett felt like every ounce of air had been ripped from his lungs. The world tilted. He stood there, speechless, looking between the two of them—clearly dressed up, clearly on their way out, clearly on a *date*. His heart cracked in real time.
"Bennett, you're back," Bower said, her voice tinged with discomfort.
"I am," Bennett managed, his voice hollow. "Uh, Bower, can I talk to you for a second?"
"We're actually on our way out," she said, avoiding his eyes.
"It's okay, sweetheart," Cougar chimed in, and Bennett nearly flinched at the endearment. "I'll pull the car around." And then, to Bennett's utter horror, Cougar leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek before patting Bennett on the back. "Meet you downstairs."
And then he was gone, leaving Bennett alone in the hallway with Bower—standing there looking so damn fine, but not for him. For *another man*. The thought shattered something deep inside him.
"I don't want to keep him waiting," Bower said, shifting on her feet, unable to meet his gaze.
Bennett couldn't speak. He had run through a hundred scenarios on that plane ride home, but not a single one involved *this*. He'd lost all ability to form words. Inside, his heart was screaming everything he'd held back for so long—*I'm the man for you. Give me a chance. No one on this planet will treat you the way I will. We're meant to be together.* But every time he tried to speak, the pain of seeing her with another man—*sweetheart* the word, kissing her cheek the gesture—ricocheted around his ribs like shrapnel, driving him to his knees.
"I really need to get going," Bower said. She finally looked him in the eyes, and when he still couldn't find words, she started to walk past him.
Without thinking, his hand shot out, landing on her stomach. She gasped.
"Don't," he said, his voice rough, broken, carrying the weight of everything. "Don't go."
"I have to."
"No." He turned toward her, gently pressing her against the wall, cradling her beautiful face in his hands. Words poured out of him now, desperate and raw. "I like you. I like you so fucking much, Bower. You've always been the girl I've wanted, but I've been waiting for my turn to make a move. To show you that I deserve you. I know I've taken so long, but I wanted… I wanted to make sure you'd give me a chance." Nerves bloomed in him as he threw his heart onto the table, praying she'd catch it. "I want you. No one else. It's always been you, and I'm begging you to just give me that chance. Let me show you I'm the man you need."
Her lip wobbled. She tried to look away, but he held her gaze, refusing to let her escape.
"Please, beautiful. Stay with me. I know you. I know there's so much more to know, but I want to be the one who champions you. I want to support all your dreams and walk beside you. I want to enjoy reading books with you, pleasuring you when you need it. Let me spoil you. Let me worship you. Let me be the one who sleeps next to you and wakes up next to you every morning. You're it for me, Bower. No one will ever own my heart like you do." He pressed his forehead to hers, their noses nearly touching. "Don't go out with him. Be with me. With me."
She tugged at her bottom lip, her indecision painting her face. And so he whispered one more plea: "Please."
"I…" Her voice cracked. "I can't, Bennett."
She broke the contact, moving to the side. But Bennett wasn't done. "Bower, you can't leave. You don't like him. I know you don't."
She walked backward, swiping at the tear that threatened to crest over her eye. "It doesn't matter, because you and me… it can't happen. I need to move on."
"But I know you don't want to," he pressed, his voice thick with emotion. "Or else you wouldn't be this upset. Please, Bower."
She paused, her eyes watering. Then, hesitantly, she stepped back toward him—and he closed the distance for her.
"Bennett… I…"
"Just give me a chance, please, baby." His voice broke on the word.
Her hand fell to his chest, her eyes searching his, heavy with conflict. "I want you," he said as her hand slid up to his neck. "All of you. No one else. I promise I'll take care of you. Be the man you deserve."
Her watery eyes met his. She cupped his cheek. She wet her lips.
"Please," he whispered, feeling defeated in the worst possible way.
And then—she leaned in. She pressed the softest fucking kiss to his lips. It was so light, so delicate, that he barely felt it, like living in a fever dream. And then she pulled away.
"Please just let me be," she said, releasing him and stepping back. "Let me go, Bennett."
And then she was gone.
He sat outside her door for ten solid minutes, waiting, praying she'd change her mind. She never did.
---
When Bennett finally mustered the will to move, he texted OC and asked him to meet at Maritime. If he was going to be in anyone's company, it would be the one man who could understand a broken heart—OC, who was still nursing his own wounds over a girl who was now engaged to someone else. Two shattered men, two bottles of beer, and the kind of silence that felt like a thousand pounds.
"What happened?" OC asked, leaning back with him on the couch.
"She's out with Cougar. After I begged her not to go. After I basically tore my heart out of my chest, handed it to her, only for her to push it away and leave. But not without dusting a feather of a kiss across my lips."
OC winced. "Oh fuck. That's… that's brutal."
"Yeah, I know." Bennett took a long gulp of beer, neither wanting to get drunk nor fighting the idea.
They talked. Bennett confessed everything—the words he'd poured out to her, the fear that had held him back for so long, the soul-deep certainty that she liked him, maybe even loved him, but simply wouldn't take the leap.
"She wouldn't have kissed you if she didn't like you," OC said.
"Exactly. She just won't risk it. And that's what fucking hurts the most. Because I'd take the leap. I'd do just about anything to be with her."
"Did you tell her you love her?"
Bennett shook his head. "Nope. Thought that would be a surefire way to get her to run as fast as she could away from me. At least when I told her I liked her, she just walked."
"Shit, man. That's brutal."
"With my luck, Cougar's proposing tonight," Bennett muttered, dragging his hand over his face. "Fuck. I feel sick."
He wanted to be alone. He wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to do damage—to feel physical pain to drown out the agony ripping at his heart. OC, wise in the ways of heartbreak, leveled with him: going out in public, making a scene, would ruin everything he'd worked for. And he was right. Bennett owed it to himself, and honestly, to Gabby, not to blow up his life over this.
So they got a car service. Bennett sat in the back, away from the driver, his leg bouncing, his energy dark and dangerous. OC asked the driver to turn the music up front so they could talk privately.
"I'm not in a good headspace, man," Bennett admitted, his thoughts spiraling to that red dress, that red lipstick, to images of Cougar claiming her lips, her body, her future.
"That's why you need to get home and just fucking chill," OC said. "Take a shower. Start fresh tomorrow."
But Bennett couldn't think about tomorrow. He could only think about her—and the war raging inside him.
When they pulled up to his building, Bennett thanked OC with a curt nod and got out. His mind raced with horrible what-ifs as he rode the elevator up. What if the date went badly and she was home already? What if he ran into them in the hallway? What if she'd brought Cougar back to her apartment and they were right now on the goddamn bed Bennett had bought her?
He punched the elevator button, ignored a passerby asking him to hold the door, and slammed the close button. He was tempted to call Gabby, to grill her about what she'd said to Bower, what made her do this complete one-eighty. Bower had been sucking his dick before he left for the road trip. And now she was on a date with another man.
How the fuck did that work?
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He reached his floor, unlocked his door, didn't bother with the lights. He tossed his keys and wallet on the table, locked up, and headed straight for his bedroom. He flipped on the light—
And stopped dead.
Bower was curled up on his bed. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. No red dress. No makeup. And her cheeks were stained with tears. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, illuminated by the lamp on his nightstand.
*Holy fuck. She's here. In my bed. Not with him.*
Chills spread across his limbs at the mere sight of her—until the realization hit: she was *crying*. His instinct flared with rage. "What did he do to you?" he demanded, rushing to sit on the bed, his hand finding her hip.
She shook her head, more tears streaming down her face. "Nothing. He did nothing."
"Then why are you crying?"
She looked at him with those destroyed, beautiful eyes—and then she spoke six words that stole every breath from his body.
"Bennett… I… I think I'm falling for you."
His heart stopped. Then it hammered. Joy, fierce and blinding, surged through him—but he held it back. Because she was *crying*. Because she could say those words and still take them away, the way she had only hours ago.
"And I can't stop that feeling, no matter how hard I try or what I tell myself."
She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. The dam broke, and the words flooded out of her—a torrent of pain and confession.
"I can't like you, Bennett. I fucking can't. But every time I breathe, I swear I can smell your cologne. Every time I eat something, I swear I can taste you on my tongue. And every time I close my eyes, you're there, in my dreams, waiting to hold me, love on me. You're everywhere, no matter how much I try to avoid it. And it's… it's plaguing me. Eating me alive, making it so I can't even function without thinking about your smile or the way you touch me. Just make it stop. Please… please make it stop."
She began to sob, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her head in her hands. "I want it to stop."
Fuck. That killed him.
Watching her in so much pain—it was worse than his own. It felt like someone was slowly, torturously ripping out his heart, one agonizing second at a time. He couldn't see her like this. He couldn't let her suffer. So he kicked off his shoes and socks, slipped under the covers, and pulled her onto his lap.
She curled into his chest, fisting the collar of his shirt as she continued to sob. He rubbed her back soothingly, kissed the top of her head, trying with everything he had to take that pain away.
"I don't want to like you, Bennett."
"I know," he said calmly, even as her words sliced across his chest.
"I don't want to think about you."
"I know," he repeated.
"I don't want to have this burning ache inside of me every fucking time I see you." She lifted up, eyes glossy, lips trembling. "But I do. I *need* you. These last ten days were torture. I thought about you all the time and wanted you here, with me, right here, in your bed."
"I wanted that too, baby," he said softly, sliding his hand under her shirt to rub her bare back. "I was agonizing over not seeing you every day."
Her lip trembled harder. "I can't have you. I can't have any part of you. Not these strong, comforting arms. This handsome, sincere face. These soft, addicting lips…" Her fingers brushed over his face as her breath caught. "I can't have any of it. But I want it. I want you, all of you. I want to be able to stop pretending like I don't feel anything, because I do. I feel so much for you, Bennett."
"Then allow yourself to feel—"
She shook her head fiercely. "I'll lose Gabby. I can't lose her. And I promised her I'd take care of you, watch over you. I promised, Bennett. From when I first met her, I told her I'd be by her side, helping her with you."
His brow furrowed in frustration. "I don't need to be taken care of. I'm a grown-ass man who can make his own choices. And it's about time she realizes that—and you realize that—because *I choose you*, Bower."
She kept shaking her head. "Don't… please, don't say that."
But Bennett saw it. Her will was slipping. Her wall was cracking. He knew this might not be the right thing to do, given her moral dilemma, but to hell with it. He was not going to let a promise she made to his sister dictate what happened between them.
He slipped his finger under her chin and forced her eyes to his. On a deep breath, he said, "You're it for me. Where I'm concerned, I'm done searching. I've found who I want, and I won't let some idle promise stop me from taking what I want. I'm not going anywhere, Bower. And I'm not going to stop."
And then he took a risk.
He brought his mouth to hers—a centimeter apart, waiting for her to say no, to push him away. But she didn't say anything. So he pressed his lips to hers.
The moment their mouths connected, she *melted*.
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It was like a dam had broken, and years of restraint came crashing down with it. She moaned softly—a sweet, sexy sound—as she shifted on his lap, straddling him. Her hands found his face, her thumbs stroking his cheeks, her mouth opening as she deepened the kiss, intensifying the connection.
Fuck, she tasted amazing. She felt amazing.
As their tongues tangled, light burst behind Bennett's eyelids—fireworks igniting all throughout his body, awakening something deep inside him that had been suppressed for far too long. His hands found the hem of her shirt and slid underneath, his palms gripping her sides, his thumbs landing just below her breasts.
Euphoria took hold. This was what he'd dreamed about for so long, and it was so much better than he could have ever imagined. She kissed soft but demanding, taking her time but rushing when she wanted more. She was relaxed, and then she tensed when her hips shifted over his growing erection.
His hands slid higher, connecting with the underside of her bare breast. She moaned and lifted away for a moment, their eyes connecting. And then—to his surprise—she lifted her arms over her head. He took the sign. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and slowly pulled it over her head until her torso was completely bare.
His eyes fell to her chest. Perfectly round, full breasts, beautiful and begging for attention.
"Jesus Christ, you're so hot," he breathed, cupping her breasts, thumbs trailing over her hardening nipples. Her head fell back as she moaned, her hips rocking ever so slightly over his throbbing cock. He needed this. He needed *her*—to be inside her, to claim her, to let her know she was his and no one else's.
He tipped her to her back, hovering over her as he yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Her eyes traveled over his torso, her hands reaching for his jeans. She undid them, then used her feet to push them down his legs. He finished the job, then returned to her as she pushed down his boxer briefs, freeing his cock.
Then he leaned down and pressed kisses along her neck, her chest, before taking her right breast into his mouth. He sucked gently on her nipple while rolling the other between his fingers.
"Fuck," she whispered, her back arching. "Yes, Bennett."
He lapped at her nipple, then gave the other the same attention—tugging lightly with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth. He got lost in the feel of her, in the way she molded into his touch, the way she formed with his body. He got lost in the way her hand gripped his cock between them, playing with the head, her thumb swiping over the tip. He got lost in her moans, in the sweet sounds she made when he nibbled on her delicate skin.
When he trailed his mouth between her breasts, down her stomach, he got lost in pulling off her shorts, spreading her legs, and burying his face in her pussy. He lapped at her with long, flat strokes, savoring every fucking second of being the man who got to do this.
"Bennett, fuck… right there. Oh God, right there." Her hand fell to his hair, tugging and pushing his head down, keeping him in place while her legs trembled against his ears. He slid his palm up her body to her breasts, rolling one nipple between his forefinger and thumb to hear her hiss with pleasure.
"Yes," she breathed, hips rotating against his tongue. "Don't stop, Bennett. Please… ahhh, right there. Faster."
He stilled his tongue for a second, then delivered short, tight flicks over her clit, applying pressure, pulling a long moan from her as she lifted up on her elbows.
He pulled back for a moment and commanded, "Grab your knees and spread, baby."
She obeyed, and he went back to her clit—lapping, tasting her arousal with every stroke. It was intoxicating. Dizzying. He started to lose his mind with need.
"Fuck, yes, yes, Bennett. Oh God, I'm going to come. Oh fuck… oh God! Yes! Yes! Fuck!" She screamed as her body convulsed, coming on his tongue, her arousal drenching his face—and he loved every second of it. He lapped up every part of her until her thighs squeezed his head and she couldn't take any more.
"Fuck," she whispered, breath ragged, floating down from her high. "Oh my God."
Her eyes found his—satisfied, smug, fucking thrilled that he could do that to her. Then, after catching her breath, she pushed him down onto the bed. Her mouth found his neck, his chest, his abs, past his belly—and then that sinful mouth of hers closed over his cock, taking him deep in one devastating dip.
"Motherfucker," he groaned, arm draping over his eyes. "Fuck, baby, you're so good."
She bobbed up and down, bringing him to the back of her throat, then releasing, repeating over and over. She built him up, edging him mercilessly—pulling all the way off, swirling her tongue around the head, then taking him all the way down again. His goddamn toes curled. She dragged her teeth along his length, relentless, building his orgasm higher and higher.
He had to stop her. "Bower, stop, babe, please… stop." She paused, concern in her eyes, as he lifted up and cupped her cheek. "I'm so fucking close. But I want to come inside of you."
Her eyes searched his for a second. Then she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him—with such force that he fell back on the bed and rolled on top of her. He spread her legs apart, and as their tongues molded together, he lined up the tip of his cock at her entrance.
He pulled up for one second. "I'm clean, babe. I want to feel all of you. Are you on birth control?"
She nodded.
He took that as the go-ahead.
"Eyes on me," he commanded as he began to enter her.
Her breath caught, her mouth falling open on a gasp. She was so tight—so fucking tight it made him sweat.
"Relax, Bower. Let me in, beautiful."
She took deep breaths, and with every exhale, he slid in farther until he was halfway there. He kissed her then—deep, long, tongue sweeping against hers—until he felt her finally relax, allowing him in completely. He bottomed out.
"Oh my… God," she breathed, short and labored. "Fuck, you're huge." Her teeth pulled over her bottom lip, and then a smile broke across her lips. "Jesus, you feel so good." She shifted her hips and moaned. "Oh my God, yes, fuck, you're so big, so fucking big." She moved her pelvis and her smile grew even more—like she was realizing his cock was the best thing that had ever happened to her. "Fuck me, Bennett. Fuck me hard."
Christ. She didn't have to say that twice.
He leaned back, took her hips in his hands, and started moving—in and out, angling his hips down, rubbing her in just the right spot.
"Fuck, yes. Oh my God, this is amazing."
She was so tight, so warm, squeezing him with every thrust. It was addictive—every push into her brought this overwhelming sensation of needing to repeat that feeling of her gripping him, fucking him with her squeeze.
"Fuck," he yelled as he started lifting her body on his cock, up and down, her pussy crashing around him, her tits bouncing with his thrusts, her head thrashing to the side. Her smile was so goddamn beautiful that his orgasm started to build at the base of his spine.
He grabbed her legs and spread them wide, then got up on his knees and started *pounding* into her. Their bodies slapped together, their moans mixing—raw, erotic, completely out of control. They were both chasing the same thing: the pleasure about to implode and change them forever.
"Yes, Bennett. Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Yes, right there. Oh my God, oh my God, fuck… you're so good. You're… so… good."
She started to tighten around him.
"You there, baby?"
"Yes," she cried out. "Fuck, I'm going to come. Harder, Bennett. Fuck me harder!"
He pounded into her relentlessly, sweat forming on his brow as he tried to hold back. But the feeling was too good. Her pussy was so soft, so tight. His balls squeezed. His cock swelled. Just as he shot into her, her pussy clamped around him and she screamed his name.
"Bennett! Fuck, I'm coming!"
Her pussy contracted around his cock as with one final thrust he spilled into her with such force that everything around him turned to black.
"Mother. Fucker," he cried out, his body shaking with hers as they rode out their orgasms—every last fucking drop—until they were both exhausted and he collapsed on top of her.
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Her hand glided slowly over his back as he regained consciousness, his head dazed and dizzy from the most incredible orgasm of his goddamn life.
"Jesus," he whispered as he lifted up to look her in the eyes—praying he wouldn't see regret. Instead, all he saw was *satisfaction*. So he leaned down and gently kissed her lips.
She kissed him back.
He lingered for a few seconds before gently pulling out of her. "Wait right here," he whispered, placing a kiss on her forehead. He went to the bathroom, cleaned up quickly, and brought her a washcloth.
Once she was cleaned up, she went to the bathroom herself. While she was gone, Bennett lay back on the bed, hands digging into his hair, trying to come down off this impossible high. It felt like a dream. He'd wanted this for so long that part of him wondered if he was actually dreaming.
Then the bathroom door opened, and his eyes fell to Bower—naked, so fucking beautiful, walking toward him.
This wasn't a dream. This was real.
He held out his hand. She took it, sliding over him and curling into his side. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling the blankets up over them, and kissed the top of her head.
"Do you feel okay? Can I get you anything?" he asked.
"No. Just stay here, with me."
"Okay," he whispered, and kissed her head again.
*I love you, Bower. So fucking much.*
He wanted to tell her. He wanted to scream it. He wanted her to know how strongly he felt, how grateful he was that she'd given him a chance. But he didn't want to scare her away. He had her now, in this moment, and he refused to disturb it. So instead of cutting his heart open and bleeding all over her, he held his tongue—and he drifted off to sleep, his girl in his arms, and peace finally pushing through him.
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## Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
Oh. My. God. This chapter was an absolute *emotional rollercoaster* from start to finish. Watching Bennett tear his heart out and lay it at Bower's feet, only to be left standing in the hallway alone—that was absolutely devastating. And then to have her show up in his bed, crying, confessing that she's falling for him but can't act on it because of her promise to Gabby? My heart couldn't take it. But when he refused to let that promise stand in their way, when he kissed her and she *melted*—that was pure poetry. The passion between them was so raw, so intense, so beautifully written that I felt every ounce of it. And that final moment, with Bennett wanting to say "I love you" but holding back out of fear… it's so painfully real and heartbreaking. He finally has her, and yet there's still so much unresolved hanging over them. This chapter was worth every tear and every racing heartbeat.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ **Rating: 4.9 / 5 Stars**
## Next Chapter Prediction
Bennett may have aced the physical connection, but the emotional minefield is far from over. With Bower's promise to Gabby still haunting her, and Gabby surely picking up on something shifting between her best friend and her brother, the next chapter is bound to bring a confrontation. I predict Gabby will catch them together—or Bower will crumble under the guilt and pull away again—forcing Bennett to finally say the three words he held back tonight. And when that bomb drops, it could either shatter everything… or set them both free. Buckle up, because the storm is only beginning.
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