A Kind of Romance (17 page)

“Touch me,” he said in a low tone, lifting his hips suggestively.

I rolled onto my side and crawled between his open thighs before pushing my finger inside him as I swallowed him simultaneously. He screwed his eyes closed and cried my name when his orgasm hit a moment later.

A kinder lover might have waited for his partner to stop shaking in the aftermath, but I had a tenuous hold at best over my control, and fuck, he tasted good. I breathed him in and licked at his balls once more before biting his inner thigh playfully and then flopped onto my pillow beside him. Benny gave me a Cheshire cat grin I couldn’t help returning.

“You have something on your chin. Let me clean you up.”

He held my head between his hands and licked at my chin and my lips, effectively cleansing all evidence of his cum. The unexpectedly carnal gesture surprised me and sent my pulse racing all over again. I glanced up and smiled before pulling him against me.

When I could trust myself to speak without panting, I rolled to face him. He looked content. Happy. The idea I had anything to do with his peaceful countenance made my heart skip a beat. I searched for something to say to get my balance back. Nothing came to mind.

LIGHT PEEKED
through the roman blinds in my bedroom the next morning, bathing my dark gray pinstriped duvet in enough sunshine to change the fabric’s color to a lighter-looking hue. I sat up gingerly and surveyed the room. Everything seemed to be in its place. Like the rest of my loft, my bedroom was decorated with a minimal contemporary feel. A king-size bed and two end tables were the only furniture in the room. Clean lines with no unnecessary surfaces to invite piles of discarded clothing or space to collect knickknacks and crap I didn’t need. Two original paintings graced the charcoal-colored walls. And a giant flat screen hung on the wall across from the bed.

I glanced lazily at the empty space beside me, noting the indentation on the pillow and the messy sheets. I sat up stunned for a moment as I replayed the events from last night in my precaffeinated brain. Did I actually follow Benny to Gypsy to catch a glimpse of his date? Did I sing a Gershwin classic in front of a bar filled with strangers with a microphone in hand to impress him? I had a fleeting memory of Taylor being there too. Then there was a cab ride home, a Disney movie, and… I smiled. Last night was very fucking hot.

So why was I alone?

The sound of clinking dishes and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee lured me from bed. I pulled on a pair of clean boxer briefs and a plain white T-shirt and stumbled into the kitchen. Benny stood at the island pouring coffee into two mugs. He looked very at home, humming softly as he set the pot back on the machine and closed a cabinet door. His hair was disheveled, and he was wearing his discarded boxers and the bright orange shirt he’d worn last night. A serious case of bedhead and wrinkly clothing shouldn’t have been a turn-on, but damn… he looked good.

“Mornin’.”

Benny jumped with a start and laid a hand over his heart. “Fuck! You scared me.”

“Sorry. You made coffee.”

“I did. I thought you might need some. Especially after last night,” he said cryptically. “You don’t seem surprised to find me in my boxers in your kitchen, which means you must remember something.”

“I remember everything. Last night was hot.” I grinned.

“It was, but—”

“No buts.” I skirted the island and set my hand on his hip and then bent to nuzzle his neck.

“Mmm. I found a couple bran muffins in your fridge. Are they edible?”

“Yeah. Sit down. I’ll heat them up.”

Benny took a seat at one of the barstools. He rested his chin on his hand and observed me closely as I worked.

I set the warmed muffins on a plate and pushed it toward him before moving to take the barstool next to him. We sipped coffee in companionable silence for a moment. Never mind. It wasn’t companionable. Not for me anyway. I was anxious, tense, and nursing the beginnings of a serious headache. I searched for a way to get the balance back. To let him know last night meant something.

“I’m sorry,” I tried in a low, raspy voice.

Benny didn’t look at me immediately. He stared into his coffee cup before reaching for an oat bran muffin. He painstakingly unwrapped the paper from the muffin and then broke off a piece and offered it to me.

“Go on. You need to eat something. You’ll feel better,” he said.

I popped the muffin in my mouth and waited for him to continue. When it became clear he was content to drink coffee and snack on a questionably stale muffin instead of acknowledging my apology, I became irritated.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? I said I’m sorry. I don’t do that often. You could at least nod your head or something.”

He shot me an annoyed look and nodded his head like a puppet on a string. “There. You happy?”

“No. I’m a little miserable right now.”

“You deserve it.”

“Probably, but… I have a confession.”

“What? You don’t remember a thing?”

“No. I do. Because I wasn’t drunk last night. It’s true I consumed an unfortunate combo ranging from beer to vodka and gin and then wine, but that happened late in the game. I always knew what I was doing. I was tipsy but of mostly sound mind.”

“You’re sure?” he asked sarcastically.

“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck and let out of stream of breath. “I don’t regret it, though.”

“Then why apologize?”

“You’re right. I’m not sorry at all. I rescind my apology. I’m glad I followed you and sabotaged your date, and I don’t even care that I made a monumental fool of myself in the process. If the end result is this—” I gestured between us meaningfully. “—I have no regrets.”

Benny quirked his eyebrow and smiled, but the gesture didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hmph.”

“Whatsa matter? Don’t you believe me?”

“I think you’re messing with me. Like I said, it was a lot of coincidence for a Friday night at your average cabaret bar.”

“Maybe, but I’m not messing with you.” I let my fingers roam over his ear before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on his parted lips. “You don’t really think I planned last night, do you?”

“It occurred to me, but no. It’s too far-fetched. However, I do think you’re the kind of guy to use coincidence to your advantage. Somehow this fits in with your quest for revenge. Or it will.”

“You really think I’m that heartless?”

“I don’t know what to think,” he sighed. Our knees brushed as he turned toward me. That innocent touch of skin made me yearn for more. But I clearly had to convince him I wasn’t a monster first, I thought when he continued. “No. I think you’re used to operating for gain. It’s probably smart business. I’m just wondering how to make this even,” he said casually.

“What do you mean?”

“If you’re going to use me to get revenge on your asshole ex, I should get something in return.”

“I’m not using you!” I snarled, slapping my hand on the granite island for emphasis. “And what kind of return are you talking about?”

“A favor.”

“Keep talking.”

His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint that made me instantly wary.

“I need a date for my cousin’s wedding.” He crossed his arms and cocked his head in challenge. “Actually I need a boyfriend.”

I gave him an incredulous stare and then swiped my hand over my stubbled jaw. “Wedding? Boyfriend?”

“Yep. You in?”

“Uh… well—why? You said you were going with your mom. And why do you need a boyfriend?”

“Never mind. I’ll ask Eric,” he said offhandedly.

“No.” I scowled. “I’ll go, but why do you want to bring a date?”

Benny picked up his coffee mug and gave me a look I couldn’t read. “It’s a long story. Family stuff that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but those who know how the Ruggieris work.”

“I know all about ‘behind the scenes’ family BS.”

“It’s nothing bad. My cousin Angie is insisting I bring a date. She thinks I’m hiding in the open by not bringing guys around. Like I’m not proud of who I am.”

“You seem very proud to me.”

“I am. But you know family,” he said with a shrug. “In a way, she’s right. I keep them separate even though I don’t hide who I am.”

“I get it.”

“You do?”

“Sure, it’s the same for me. My family hasn’t liked anyone I’ve been with since Carter, and we broke up years ago. But… you better ask me properly.”

“Properly?”

I nodded and gave him my best blank stare. “Yes. Properly. Something like, ‘Zeke, you’re a hundred times better-looking than that schlep I was gonna ask, and chances are you’ve got a nice tux or two in your closet so—’”

“But you owe me!”

“I do?” I broke off a piece of his muffin and popped it between his lips with a flourish. Suddenly I was back in the driver’s seat.

“For fuck’s sake… all I’m asking is for you to play a part for one night. If you think about it, we should be getting good at this by now. Between our pretend dates and the half-dozen times you’ve randomly announced we’re boyfriends over the last few days, I’d say it’s practically believable.”

“So ask me nicely,” I insisted with a teasing grin.

He growled and clenched his teeth before adopting a faux syrupy tone. “Will you please attend my cousin’s wedding with me, Zeke?”

“I’d be honored.” I waited for him to look into my eyes before I continued. “But we should probably practice at this boyfriend thing. You know… to get in the mood.”

Benny snickered as he leaned into me. “What do you propose?”

“Kiss me.”

“That’s it? Just a kiss?” He licked his lips and inched close enough that our knees bumped.

“For now… yes.”

I reached out and ran my thumb along his jawline. His normally smooth chin was scruffy. I’d always liked scruff on a guy. Especially in the morning. Just the brush of my cheek against Taylor’s used to make me hard. And as the differences flickered through my mind, I realized my attraction to Benny had nothing to do with having a “type.” Benny was nothing like Taylor. One man oozed testosterone, and the other had the faintest smudge of eyeliner under his lashes. Maybe it was a simple matter of liking him. Benny was… refreshing. He made me laugh, and he didn’t shy away from a fight.

I pulled him from his barstool so he stood between my thighs. Then I tilted his chin and licked his bottom lip before covering his mouth. The connection was light, but damn, it was perfect. Thoughts of writhing naked with him in my bed flooded my memory. Maybe it defied expectation, but it was hard to ignore the physical pull. We fit. Like a puzzle piece or a missing song lyric. I licked his lips in a request for entry and deepened the kiss. I let my hands roam over his shoulders and down his back before resting them on his pert ass. When we parted for air, I ran my fingers through his hair and pressed a chaste kiss on his forehead.

“So maybe we should go back to bed… to solidify the arrangement. You know, like a handshake.”

Benny snorted and pulled out of my arms. “Way to ruin a moment.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry. I know what you’re doing. You don’t want me to get the wrong idea, so your plan is to occasionally say offensive things to remind me why I’d be a complete idiot to think you’d be a candidate for a ‘real’ boyfriend. Am I correct?”

If I was completely honest, I’d conceded there was an element of truth in his statement, but I’d been around the block a couple of times. Admitting it wouldn’t ingratiate me to him. I gave him a smug grin instead and smacked his ass.

“Don’t be rude. I’m a gentleman.”

“I know your type, Zeke. And you, my friend, are no gentleman. Don’t get me wrong. You’re a good guy. But keeping score is your number one goal. You threw me off track last night until you saw your ex. That’s when I realized you have revenge on your mind. Step one, jealousy.”

“We already established that nothing about last night was orchestrated, drama boy. It just happened. Don’t let your imagination go wild here.”

“It doesn’t matter. I seriously doubt your old boyfriend believed I’m your new boyfriend,” he scoffed. “And I don’t think we’ll fool my family either.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re nothing alike. People who think they know us will be suspicious. They have preconceived notions about us and who we’re supposed to be with. Take me, for instance… my mom thinks I’ll end up with an artist. Maybe someone in the fashion industry or in theater. She thinks I’m drawn to volatile types who can quote Sartre and like to binge-watch
Mad Men
.”

I chuckled as I slid my foot between his and rested my hand on his hip. “I don’t have time to binge-watch anything, but I can quote Albert Camus. Will that work or am I out of the running?”

“You won’t fool my mom. She’ll know your overall television ignorance means we’re doomed. Hit me with some Camus and let’s see if it makes up where you’re lacking in entertainment prowess.”

“Hey! According to most people, I’m a catch!”

“I’m sure, but zero knowledge about the entertainment world is a tough sell.”

“I got plenty of entertainment prowess,” I said with a purposefully thickened accent.

“Right. You were going to quote Camus, I believe.”

I cleared my throat dramatically and spoke in a low, serious tone. “‘Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is.’ That’s from
The Stranger
,
in case you’re curious
.
” I expected him to let me have it for being a know-it-all or a good old-fashioned geek. When he remained silent, I lifted his chin and pressed a small kiss on his lips. “Whatsa matta? You don’t like it?”

“I like it,” he replied in a soft voice. “I just didn’t expect it.”

“I have an Ivy League education, Benjamin. And occasionally, I can prove it.”

He chuckled at my silly brag and wiggled close so our semihard cocks rubbed through our briefs. I groaned at the contact and then buried my face in the crevice of his shoulder and blew a raspberry. He giggled helplessly and tried to push me away. “Stop!”

“Nope. Not ’til you say ‘Zeke Gulden is the smartest guy I know.’ Go on.”

“Ugh! You’re an idiot!”