Chapter 15
Remi
I was not prepared.
My back hits the wall as I all but fall into it, Benson crowding me gently against the wood. I silently thank Zoey for the interruption after all. If it caused Benson to kiss me like this, the brief minute away was well worth it.
Benson kisses the same way he hugs.
Thoroughly.
Unhurriedly.
Like every point of contact is essential, and he doesn’t want to let it go.
I’m drowning in him. My breath caught in my throat as he tilts my head further back. My lips tingling and my toes curling as if they could somehow bring me half an inch closer to Benson and his mouth.
But there’s no space between us. Not an inch. Not a millimeter.
He wanted it to be unplanned. Not something expected.
Well, I can confidently say Benson Harper is unexpected in the best way.
Benson’s lips drag against mine again and again, the gentle swipe of his tongue coy yet suggestive.
His beard hairs are surprisingly soft, his hands the same as he takes his time learning my mouth, putting as much devotion into it as I suspect he applies to everything new in his life he wants to master.
And hell if this man isn’t already an expert at making me melt.
If this is how he kisses, how does he fuck?
The thought is barely in my head before I force it back out again. I can’t think about that right now. I’m barely hanging on as it is.
Benson must sense it because he slowly pulls back, soft kisses peppering my lips as if a single goodbye isn’t nearly enough. It’s torture to let him go, but I do, my gut swooping when I spot the twin patches of color on Benson’s cheeks.
The man looks debauched. From a kiss. It’s enough to have a slew of other images running through my mind.
There’s no coming back from this, is there? One taste isn’t nearly enough.
Letting out a breath, I rest my head against the wood behind me. My voice is undoubtedly hoarse. “Fuck, Ben. I’m going to need you to kiss me like that again.”
I meant soon, not right this minute, but Benson chases me without hesitation, capturing my lips a second time. My hands flex in his shirt, the groan that leaves my throat unavoidable. He’ll ruin me at this rate.
Luckily—or unluckily, I’m not quite sure—Benson leans back before I can completely lose myself.
“Good?” he asks sincerely, his hand falling from his lips along with the spoken word.
My smile is ridiculously wide, my movements as sluggish as my brain. “Yeah. That’s a good boy.”
Benson’s wide eyes have me huffing a laugh.
I pat his chest, forcing myself to step away from the wall and around the man, putting some much-needed distance between his mouth and mine.
If I get caught on those lips a third time, there’s a very good chance I won’t come up for air before the workday is done.
“I need to check on Zoey. I’ll bring the chickens out for a bit, too, while the sun lasts.”
I turn back around in time to see Benson rubbing the side of his neck, looking as flustered as I feel. “Yeah. I’ll, uh, take care of their pen.”
I shoot him a one-handed thanks before unlatching the Silkies’ door. Benson opens the barn door into the petting-farm yard for me, making my job of herding the chickens outside that much easier.
I’m grateful for the cold that slaps me in the face.
After that kiss, I need it. Snickerdoodle greets me, nosing at my pockets in search of treats as the chickens scatter, the feathered bunch unsure about the thin layer of snow still on the ground.
I spot Zoey in the booth at the entrance to the petting farm, a smile on her face as she waves with a pink-gloved hand.
I head her way, passing a family who’s excited about the arrival of the Silkies. “Doing okay?”
She nods, hands cupped in front of her mouth for a moment as she says something about being grateful for the heater in the booth. A few of the words are muffled, but I get the gist.
“Zoey? Just so you know, I’m Deaf.” I angle my head as I sign the word, drawing attention to my cochlear implant. “If I’m wearing my CI, it helps to see your mouth when you speak.”
Her hands drop to the wood counter. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize.”
“It’s fine, honestly. My own family does it sometimes, and they’ve known me thirty years. If I ask you to repeat something, that’s likely why.”
She nods. “Yeah, of course. Um, so I think I’ve got the hang of the register. The woman over there asked about, uh, yoga classes, though? Is that a thing? I told her I’d find out before they left.”
My smile pops wide. “It is. We do goat yoga once the weather is warmer.”
She visibly perks up. “Oh, I can’t wait! Does Benson teach that?”
I bark a laugh before I can stop myself. Not because the image of Benson bent over a yoga mat as goats climb all over his back is disparate to the man himself. No, he certainly wouldn’t look out of place.
But if I told the Benson of a year ago, the man who was immersed in corporate finance and city life, that our newest employee would peg him as a goat yoga instructor, he wouldn’t have believed me.
“No,” I tell her, my chuckles softening. “He doesn’t teach it. There’s a yoga instructor from town that stops by. Let me show you how the signups work.”
Zoey nods, and I walk her through the online systems for both the yoga classes and the trail rides we offer.
After that, the two of us work together to clean up the yard, most of the droppings in the snow left by the goats.
Before I know it, the second-shift ranchers are riding in from the fields and making their way toward the stables.
The day flew.
I show Zoey the steps for closing down the petting farm, our only family of visitors having already left.
The hardest part is getting all the animals inside on a nice day.
Granted, I often take care of that later in the evening during the warmer months, a fact I let Zoey know.
Today, however, the animals have no problem being herded toward the warmth of the barn. Even the goats zip right inside.
I half expect Benson to be gone. Not that he’s in the habit of leaving without a goodbye, but he doesn’t normally stay this late at the ranch.
He’s still inside the barn, though, having cleaned and tidied everything beyond what was necessary.
I can’t help the dip in my stomach as warm brown eyes catch mine, Benson’s smile far subtler than the one I can feel stretching my own cheeks.
I’m going to have a problem if I can’t keep myself in check around the man. But Christ, not even a couple hours in the cold could make me forget what Benson’s lips felt like against mine. Or stop the mental fantasy of him pressing me up against the wall to explore more than my mouth.
Shit. No wonder Jackson and Ash can’t keep their hands off each other at work.
Zoey’s company is enough to keep me rooted in the present.
It doesn’t take long for us to sort the chickens and goats into their appropriate pens.
Our new employee heads off for the day, and I eye Benson, who’s extra focused on the hay he’s dropping into Snickerdoodle’s stall.
There’s a tension running along his shoulders that wasn’t there when I left the barn.
I lean a hip against Snickerdoodle’s door as Benson rubs the pony’s neck, his long arms reaching her easily over the wood. “Ben.”
His eyes flick to my shoulder, chest hitching in what might be a hum.
“Nothing has to change.”
That has him looking my way fully.
‘Us,’ I sign. ‘We can be…as we were before.’
He frowns slightly, which wasn’t my intent. ‘Do you regret—’
‘No,’ I cut in quickly, a small laugh on my lips as I run a hand over Benson’s stiff shoulder. His eyes slip closed for a beat when I squeeze the side of his neck. ‘No regrets. I just mean here, at work. If it’s too much, I can be professional. I promise.’
Benson’s frown only deepens, his hands moving slowly. ‘I was the one who kissed you.’
I bark another laugh. ‘Yes, you did. It was very nice.’
He ducks his head, a damn endearing sight on a man seasoned enough to have wrinkles beside his eyes. ‘I don’t know how to do this.’
‘Which part?’
“All of it?” he voices before aiming a trembling hand my way. ‘You.’
‘I can tell you exactly how to do me, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
Benson doesn’t react for a long second, possibly decoding my ASL. He sucks in a breath once my meaning sinks in, eyes flashing to mine. “Jesus, Remington.”
“Oh, am I in trouble?” I tease.
He huffs, rubbing a hand over his face before frowning at his somewhat dirty palm. I can practically see his internal wince. He refocuses on me quickly, movements a bit more confident than before. ‘This, as in you and me. None of this was supposed to be happening.’
‘No? What was?’
‘Numbers,’ he answers swiftly. ‘Boring office shit. Instead, I shook my life and now—’ He shakes his hands wildly in the air before flinging them outwards. ‘Bam. I’m here. Kissing you. Wondering if any of this is real and if I’m even allowed to have it.’
‘You can have it,’ I tell him fervently. Surely.
He shakes his head. ‘Is it that easy?’
‘Why should it be hard?’
“Because everything in my life is,” he says with feeling. “Fuck, I—”
Cutting off, he spins away before turning back again.
His hand cradles my neck, thumb lifting my chin, and then he’s kissing me again.
I’m nearly swept off my feet, one hand grabbing Snickerdoodle’s stall door as my other anchors against Benson’s arm.
This kiss is an attack. Not against me, but against whatever hurdles Benson is fighting in his head.
He seems damned determined to beat them, and if he’s expecting any resistance on my end, he won’t find it.
I welcome his mouth, breathing him in, fairly certain pieces of him are settling inside me like dust on the air.
Particles so small, you’d never know the world around you is passing through your lungs, weaving into your very makeup.
I feel that way as Benson’s lips move against mine, fevered and desperate.
“Fuck,” I think he mutters, inhaling sharply as he pulls back.