Page 44 of Operation Sunshine
“Me too,” Franco murmured, his hands at Ben’s waist, pulling him in a bit harder.
Before Ben could think, Franco stood, his hand wrapped around Ben’s.
His heart pounded with the knowledge that this was the moment where everything was going to change.
The second Ben’s lips parted beneath his, Franco knew this was more than physical, more than the press of skin, the way their mouths collided with urgency. It was the years of walls Ben had built, the same walls Franco had watched crumble bit by bit. Franco had been patient—maybetoopatient—but now it was clear: Ben was here with him…allof him.
Franco kissed him deeper, harder. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing, nothing but the need to take, to feel. Ben was here in this raw naked moment, stripped of his perfect control.
And God, itwasperfect.
Franco had never wanted someone quite like this, someone who matched him so easily, who could push him just as hard, just as deep. There was a fire in Ben, a spark Franco could sense even when Ben tried to bury it under layers of control. And now?
Now, there was no more hiding.
He could taste it, taste Ben, like whisky, a little bitter, but intoxicating. The kiss was rough, all tongue and teeth, an urgent search to know, to possess. It wasn’t about taking anymore; it was about belonging in a way that felt real, felt right.
Ben’s body pressed against his, warm, taut, every inch of him leaning into the touch. The instinct to pull back, to keep things casual, to maintain control… Franco had left that part of him in the kitchen, back when Ben had looked at him with those damn eyes and said everything in between.
Now, it was just them.
Franco pulled away slightly, needing to hear Ben’s breath, his voice. He needed confirmation this was what they both wanted, needed. The question burned once more in his chest, and it was out before he could stop it.
“You sure?”
Ben’s gaze met his, fierce, determined. “I’m sure.”
That was all it took.
Franco grasped Ben’s hand and led him with quiet intensity toward the bedroom. His heart raced, his body already alive with the promise of what was to come. But this wasn’t about the physical, the promise of skin on skin.
This was about tearing down those walls.
About finally being seen.
When they reached the bed, Franco’s hands were everywhere,moving in gentle but deliberate strokes, pushing Ben against the edge of the mattress. There was no going back, not now.
I don’twantto go back.
This was it.
This was them, and dear God, he wanted it.
Chapter Twelve
Franco’s hand was on Ben’s neck, their lips locked, and Ben was loving every fucking second. Franco slid his fingers into Ben’s hair, tugging on it, his tongue going deep, and Ben moaned into the kiss.
It was as if the past weeks of glances and careful touches had been holding them back from this inevitable ignition, and now they were hellbent on devouring each other. They broke apart, then Franco pressed his forehead to Ben’s, his breathing ragged. “God, I’ve wanted this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’ve wantedyou.”
Ben squeezed his eyes shut. He yearned to say something that would match the trembling sincerity in Franco’s words, but Franco chose that moment to sink to his knees, pop the button on Ben’s jeans, and lower the zipper as if he had all fucking night.
A low, wrecked sound tumbled from Ben’s lips when Franco fished out his dick and sat back on his haunches, gazing at it, his tongue snaking out to lick his lips.
“Well, don’t just stare at it,” Ben said through gritted teeth. “You’ve got it out now, so you might as well do something with it.”
Franco grinned. “What—like this?” He gave the head a single lap of his tongue, then pulledback.
Ben let out a growl. “I swear, if you don’t—”
