Page 109 of Operation Sunshine
So was the love burning in his eyes.
“I believe you,” Ben whispered.
Franco sagged with relief, then cupped Ben’s face and kissed him, unhurried, steady, a promise pressed into lips and breath. He rested his forehead against Ben’s. “I should have told you, but I was scared you’d think everything between us was a lie.”
Ben brushed his thumb across Franco’s cheekbone. “It’s not a lie, I know that. And what we have here? This is all that matters now.”
They lay back down, wrapped around each other, the truth finally spoken and settled between them.
Ben felt lighter, his breathing syncing once more with Franco’s, his ear pressed to Franco’s chest, lost in the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Franco kissed the crown of his head. “When you go back tomorrow, don’t carry this with you. Leave it here. Leave it with me.”
Ben closed his eyes, holding him tighter. “I already have.”
Franco brushed his thumb in absent circles against Ben’s temple,as though he was afraid of letting go now the truth had been spoken aloud. The room was hushed, the air filled with nothing but their breaths and the faint hum of Florence beyond the shutters.
Ben shifted slightly, enough to see Franco’s face, although it made the words heavier on his tongue. “There’s something else you should know.”
Franco’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”
Ben’s throat worked, and then he said it. “The night I heard them talking, I went home, running over it over and over in my mind.”
“Of course you did.” Franco kissed his head.
“Yes, but… I thought about selling the restaurant.”
Franco blinked as Ben’s words sank in. “What?”
“I meant it,” Ben continued, his voice steady. “I even started making calls. I thought… if my own staff could treat me like a joke, then maybe I didn’t belong there at all. But what consumed me was not knowing if I could face you coming back in December and finding out I’d let it all go.”
Franco sat up straighter, his eyes wide. “Ben, you can’t—”
“I didn’t,” Ben interrupted, reaching for his hand. He laced their fingers together, tethering himself to Franco like an anchor. “I thought long and hard about it every night for a week. But in the end, I realised I wasn’t ready to walk away, not after we’d worked so hard. And as for the staff… They’re not perfect, but they’re family now. And they’re trying.” He smiled. “We’re… rebuilding.”
Franco searched his face, as if testing every word for cracks. “And you’re okay with them? After everything?”
Ben let out a breath. “It still stings, sometimes. But they’ve shown me they’re truly sorry, that they want to make things right. And I don’t want to punish them forever for one stupid mistake. So yes—I’m okay.We’reokay.”
The relief that swept across Franco’s face was palpable. He let out a shuddering breath. “You scared the shit out of me just now.”
“Join the club,” Ben murmured, tugging him closer until Franco was sprawled against his chest. He pressed a kiss to Franco’s hair,lingering there. “But I wanted you to know. I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”
Franco tightened his arms around him. “God, Ben. Selling up? That would’ve broken me.”
Ben swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “I know. That’s why I didn’t. Because I want you to come back to a home, Franco. To me—to us. And the restaurant is part of that home.”
The words hung in the air like a vow, the weight of weeks finally lifting.
Franco tilted his head, his eyes glimmering in the lamplight, and kissed him, the kind of kiss that was in no hurry to be anywhere, that promised more without demanding it. Ben slid a hand along the curve of his back, pulling him closer, feeling Franco melt into him.
They moved together with unhurried care. It wasn’t about urgency—it was about savouring, imprinting every caress, every shiver, every gasp.
Ben kissed Franco as though he were memorising him, without walls or reservations. Their bodies joined, settling into a rhythm, tender and lingering, taking turns to slide into each other, until Franco was deep inside him, and Ben trembled with the force of his climax. He clung to Franco, jolted by waves of pleasure, Franco’s whisper rough against his ear.
“Yours, Ben. Always.”
When it was over, they lay curled around one another in sweat-damp sheets, their breathing gradually slowing, their hands never parting. Franco dozed off against Ben’s chest, but Ben stayed awake, stroking his hair, committing the weight of him to memory.
