Page 40 of Candy Hearts
Benji kissed him, and some of the weird tension between them eased. William sighed, and Benji relaxed in his arms.
“Can you blow out the candles?” Benji asked when they came up for air. “I’ll rid the bed of rose petals and sex toys.”
“I can stay?”
Benji blinked. “If you want to.”
“I do.”
William liked having a plan. After taking care of the candles, petals, sex toys, and stoking the fire, they finished getting ready for bed. Benji put a pair of silk boxers on under his silky T-shirt, and William donned his flannel pajama bottoms.
They found each other in the middle of the bed, and William almost immediately started to drop off to sleep.
“We’re great at sex,” Benji whispered baldly.
“Yeah.”
“It’s not been that good for me before.”
William woke back up. “Me either,” he admitted.
“I think your house is haunted. By sex fairies. Or horny little cupids. There’s no reason it should be this good.”
William could think of one very good reason, but he wasn’t brave enough to look it in the face.
Instead, he said, “Valentine’s Day mojo. We have it.”
“Will we have it tomorrow?” The rest of Benji’s question went unspoken, but William could read between the lines.Will this continue tomorrow when there are more people to hide from? When my sister is here?
“If you want us to.” The rest of William’s statement went unspoken too.Do you want us to?
* * *
William woke up at five the next morning. He always woke up at five. His body’s internal clock liked routine, but this morning he would have loved a few extra hours of blissful sleep with Benji.
Ah well. To keep this a secret, he had to sneak out early anyway. Robin had insomnia, so they were at risk of being caught if she decided to start her morning rather than lie in bed awake. He needed to make it seem as if he’d slept on the couch in the living room. His plan had been to fill the air mattress in the sunroom last night, but his emotions after Benji fucked him had totally waylaid him. He couldn’t blow it up now—the portable air pump would be too loud.
Last night, he hadn’t had his wits about him. All he’d cared about was getting back to Benji. Wren had wanted to chat as he’d gotten her set up on the futon in his office.
He’d been so focused on his plan to slip back into Benji’s room he’d missed the fact that Wren had found his handwritten dating profile and criteria.
He’d just finished tucking a fresh sheet around the futon mattress when Wren had said, “You need to add something on here about being a great cook. You suck at cooking. You should try to bag an amateur chef.”
William had whipped around. “Hey! Privacy.”
Wren had glanced up from the paper in surprise. To be fair, creating the dating criteria had been her idea, and he’d planned to talk to her about it this weekend.
Then Benji had shown up.
“Well, sorry.” She’d put the papers on the desk, and William had sighed.
“Being able to cook would be a plus, but not sure it’s a deal-breaker,” he’d said.
She’d smiled. “You’re telling me that if someone doesn’t like true crime, thatwould bea deal breaker for you?”
He’d flushed. “This whole thing is dumb. It’s not as easy as bullet points on a piece of copy paper. I don’t know the first thing about finding love. Don’t have any idea what would make a person compatible with me.”
“Of course you do, but you’re being stubbornly boring about it.” She’d waved toward the papers like they were Exhibit A. “Go to bed, Willie. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
