Page 29 of Candy Hearts
William grabbed Benji’s hand and brought it up to his lips, placing a kiss in the center of his palm. “It’s okay.”
Benji laughed and said, “Shit.” This time out loud. “I feel really exposed and really sexy, and it’s kind of scary, but I also like it. And you are so fucking nice. It’s not fair. I don’t know how to defend myself against it.”
“Then don’t.” William slipped the shirt higher up Benji’s torso. He took one last picture, then turned the phone off and placed it on a table beside the bed. “Let me spoil you.”
Once, when Benji was a child, his dad had shown up after months of absence. It had been March, but he’d brought them presents, saying they were for Valentine’s Day. A band T-shirt and Hot Topic jewelry for Sasha. Stationary and a sleek Trapper Keeper for Rosie. He’d given Benji a baseball glove. Which had been awesome.
Except the glove had been lefthanded. Benji would have done anything to shape himself into the kid who could have used that glove, but he couldn’t make himself lefthanded.
His grandma—their actual guardian—had been livid at his dad for not knowing Benji was righthanded. Benji’s dad had gotten defensive and angry and disappeared for another year, leaving Benji feeling responsible for his absence. But Benji had also realized something important that day.
It was better to keep your expectations low, especially with someone who had the power to hurt you.
The memory flashed through Benji’s brain. Maybe it had come to him because it was one of the many holiday memories in which one or both of his parents had failed, and being here, all surrounded by Valentine’s Day, had knocked it loose. Or maybe it was because this excitement in his stomach felt a little bit like opening that paper bag to see a baseball glove inside. Like Benji was getting his hopes up, was allowing William to get close enough to hurt him.
This whole thing was romantic. The room. The rose petals. The lingerie. The understanding between them.
If William pulled the rug out from underneath him. If William offered him something wonderful, only to backpedal or end up being an asshole … Well, if that happened, then Benji was wasting this garter belt on an asshole, and that would be a huge shame.
“We can stop,” William said softly. “If this is too much. We can go eat the gas station brownie and play Canasta.”
“Canasta has too many rules,” Benji said staunchly. “I don’t want to stop.”
Benji had quit betting on his parents. He’d learned his lesson soon after the baseball-glove incident. And he’d quit betting on his ex, and guys like his ex, because he didn’t want to have to change himself to be loved.
But if having two wonderfully badass sisters had taught him anything, it was that sometimes people surprised you. Sometimes they were legitimately good.
Benji wanted William to be legitimately good so badly his body ached with it. Even if it only lasted a weekend. Even if it only lasted a night. He was willing to bet on it. To take the chance.
“I don’t want to stop,” he said again. “Not at all.”
William leaned in to place a kiss directly above the lace of the garter belt, like a benediction, and Benji didn’t feel so silly for his momentary storm of emotions. William glanced up at him, his eyes wide behind the lenses of his glasses.
“Turn over for me?” he asked.
Benji loved when William was bossy, but the earnest suggestion was just as sweet. He rolled onto his stomach. The crisp cotton sheets against his erection were too delicious to bear, and he couldn’t help but press his hips firmly into the bed. He was back in the ballgame now.
One of William’s hands landed on Benji’s thigh, slipping under the garter and forcing him to spread his legs a bit. William hummed.
Then something tickled the bottom edge of his butt cheek. It moved gently along the join of his leg and buttocks. It wasn’t a finger—too flimsy. Wasn’t a toy.
Whatever William was holding, he drifted it lightly up Benji’s crack to the base of his spine, then back down again. It felt nice, like a tease.
Benji cranked his head around to see. William was fluttering a rose petal over Benji’s skin.
There was also a rose petal crushed under his hipbone, feather-soft and silky. And another one under his cheek, filling his nose with its floral, earthy scent.
Benji had never been into roses. They seemed clichéd. Plus, you could get them practically anywhere nowadays. These gas station roses were case in point.
But damn, every time William swept that petal up and down the outside of his crease, Benji’s hair stood on end. His heart tripped over and a pleasurable ache spread from the small of his back. Benji was a roses convert. It was probably the single most erotic moment of his life.
Thank God.
Thank God, he’d taken this chance.
Too bad it was spoiled by a door banging open downstairs and a voice calling out, “Willie! We’re here to rescue you from your boring life!”
Chapter Nine
