Page 91 of Operation Sunshine
But not so much that they don’t want to let you leave when the stage is finished.
Ben prayed such a message would never arrive.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The air in Ben’s flat was thick with anticipation, charged with something Franco didn’t want to name for fear of breaking it.
They didn’t speak at first. Franco shrugged off his jacket, dropped it carelessly on the back of the chair, and turned. Ben was already there, only a step away, watching him with that intent, steady gaze Franco had come to know so well.
God, those eyes.Franco could drown in them.
“Ben,” he murmured, his voice rough, the sound from someplace deep.
Ben raised his hand and brushed his fingertips along Franco’s jaw, the touch reverent, as though he was touching something sacred. Franco leaned into it without thinking, his eyes closing, a soft sigh escaping him. Then Ben’s mouth was on his, a press of lips, a whisper of promise. He slid his fingers higher, running them through Franco’s hair, tugging him closer, and Franco parted his lips with a low moan, hungry for him, for this. Their tongues met in a sexy duel, and the kiss grew, feeding Franco’s desire until he felt it in every nerve, every breath.
When they broke apart, Franco’s chest heaved. “Take me to bed,”he whispered, his forehead resting against Ben’s. “Make love to me. Let me… let me give you everything.”
Ben’s eyes were on fire as he took Franco’s hand, guiding him to the bedroom. The room was dim, the streetlight spilling in through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the bed. Ben turned, standing at the edge of it, and for a moment they simply looked at each other. Franco swallowed hard. He wanted to remember this, every detail, every shift of light across Ben’s features, the way his hair caught the glow, the shape of his mouth when he wasn’t guarding his expression.
Franco reached for him first, tugging at the hem of Ben’s shirt. “Off,” he murmured. His voice trembled, not with uncertainty but urgency.
Ben lifted his arms without a word, letting Franco strip the shirt away. Franco drank in the sight of him, the broad chest, the curve of muscle, the mat of soft hair covering his pecs, the trail that pointed south. He traced the contours of Ben’s torso, keeping the motion leisurely and sensual.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
Ben smiled. “You’ve said that before.”
“Then it must be true.”
“I could say the same, you know.”
Franco laughed softly. “Yeah, but you don’t get to see the mess underneath.” He pulled his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside. Ben’s gaze raked over him, and Franco felt it, as tangible like a physical touch, the heat of being seen, wholly and without judgment.
“Not a mess,” Ben said quietly. He brushed his fingers across Franco’s chest. “Never a mess. You’re…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “They’d have to invent a new word to describe you, because I don’t think thereisone that fully describes you.”
Franco caught his hand and pressed a kiss into his palm. “Then don’t tell me—show me.”
Ben kissed him again, deeper this time, walking them backward until Franco’s knees hit the mattress and he sank down onto it, pulling Ben with him. They sprawled together, their mouths locked,their bodies aligning. Franco arched into the weight of Ben above him, his hands roaming across his back, down his sides, burning the feel of him into his memory.
They undressed each other, unhurried despite the thrum of desire between them. It wasn’t the frantic hunger of stolen moments in kitchens or offices. This was peeling away barriers as much as clothing. By the time they were bare, Franco’s chest ached with the sheer intimacy of it. Nakedness wasn’t new to him, but this?
This took it to a whole new level.
Ben kissed down his throat, across his collarbone, eliciting shivers when his lips lingered. “You drive me crazy,” Ben murmured against his skin. “Every second. And still… I want more.”
“You have me,” Franco whispered, tangling his fingers in Ben’s hair, pulling him up so their mouths met again. “All of me. Tonight, I’m yours.”
He meant it with a clarity that startled him. Every wall he’d ever built, every joke, every deflection—it all fell away here, in this bed, in Ben’s arms. He let himself feeleverything, then let it show in the way he arched his body, the way he moaned into Ben’s kisses, whispering his name as though it were a prayer.
Ben responded in kind, giving back everything Franco offered and more. His touch was sure but tender, his kisses fierce and lingering.
Heknowsme. Ben knew the spots that made him gasp, the rhythm that drove him higher, the gentleness that undid him completely.
The world narrowed to sensation: hands, mouths, skin sliding against skin, the pulse of heat building between them. They moved together with a familiarity that still astonished Franco, like two halves learning they’d always belonged together. His breath came in gasps, his body taut, every nerve alight.
“Ben,” he groaned, gripping his shoulders tight. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” Ben promised, his voice raw, desperate. “Not ever.” He reached for the lube. “Spread your legs. Show it to me.”
