Chapter 21
Remi
Benson is surprisingly handsy when we step under the showerhead to wash off. And not in a verbose way.
Soapy palms trail over my shoulders, down my back, fingers running feather-light over my neck with the utmost care. My throat is sore, but it’s inconsequential, barely a fleeting thought in my head. I’m too preoccupied with the tiny smile lingering at the corner of Benson’s mouth.
“Is this you fucked out?” I finally ask.
Benson jolts slightly, as if my voice after so much quiet surprised him. But he answers with a simple shrug before bodily turning me toward the spray of water. He rinses the soap from my skin, his own hair flattened to his head.
“Sex-drunk looks good on you.”
This time, his lips twitch. He leans down to press a series of kisses to my neck, almost as if expressing gratitude for its service. I chuckle, even as my insides warm.
Benson Harper is definitely feeling more than a little uninhibited. His movements are loose, his smiles frequent, and he’s radiating calm.
Was it just the sex? Or the intimacy, too?
I’m dying to know what tumbled out of Benson’s mouth while he was fucking my throat, but I don’t ask. What I told him was the truth. Those words were for him and him alone.
God, am I curious, though.
I’m about to ask Benson if I can pose a question when I catch myself. “Ben. Was that all right? Everything I said to you?”
He nods his fist in a yes before soaping his body. He doesn’t object when I run my hands over his chest and down his stomach.
“The compliments…” I hedge. “I can’t tell if you’re comfortable with them.”
Benson shuts off the water and reaches through the curtain for a towel. He sets to drying my hair and body before seemingly catching himself and handing the towel over with a sheepish smile. I wrap it around my waist as he lifts his hands.
‘So often, compliments feel like…currency. An exchange for people to get what they want.’
My throat twinges when I swallow. “You don’t trust them.”
His hands move surely. ‘I trust yours.’
He doesn’t give my rapid-fire heartbeat any time to come down before going on.
‘I like you being direct with me, Remi. Telling me what you want. What you think. Telling me…if I did good.’ His eyes are downcast when he adds, ‘I like knowing I make you feel that way.’
“And you?” I ask, grabbing the other towel.
Benson lifts his head when I drag the fabric over his hair, looking like a tousled grizzly bear. I have to bite my lip against the urge to either climb him or drop to my knees.
‘What about me?’ he asks, movements slow.
“I want to make you feel good, too, Ben. If there are things you want. Things you’ve tried or haven’t but want to. Will you tell me so we can explore them together?”
‘What if…I don’t know?’
My smile is slow-growing. “Then I suppose we’ll just have to try everything to see, won’t we?”
His chest moves in the slightest huff.
“Oh no,” I deadpan. “Such a hardship.”
This time, he laughs for real, his eyes crinkling as he tosses the shower curtain to the side.
I shiver as cold washes over my skin, fully prepared to bolt back to the bedroom and a clean set of clothes, but Benson stops in front of the fogged mirror.
He unzips the small toiletries bag he brought over and pulls out a toothbrush and toothpaste.
He stills once the brush is in his mouth, his eyes meeting mine. ‘Are you planning to just stand there and watch me?’
“Yes,” I admit, having been enjoying the half-naked show quite a lot. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”
His brows pull together, his ‘Yes’ confounded, as if he can’t fathom why I’d want to stare at him doing something so mundane.
Chuckling, I grab my own toothbrush to join him. That seems to set him at ease. He spits toothpaste into the sink before rinsing his mouth and carefully stowing everything back away in his bag.
Benson waits for me to be done before following me into my bedroom.
I shut the door after us, even though I’m more than certain there’s no one left in the house.
Benson slips his toiletries bag away before pulling out pajama bottoms that look soft and worn from use.
They’re plaid, his t-shirt a light gray.
Smiling to myself, I grab my own clothes and slide on my watch. When I turn back around, Benson is seated on the bed, his eyes on my dresser. On the flattened rose lying there, possibly? His eyes swing to me when I approach.
“Are you a cuddly sleeper?” I ask.
Those eyes widen some, as if he hadn’t quite considered the actual sleeping part of this arrangement. His hands move hesitantly. ‘Not generally a cuddly sleeper, no. But…’
“You’d like to cuddle a bit before bed?”
He puffs out a breath before nodding. I ease under the sheet, and Benson lies down just in time for me to wrap myself around him. His own arms come around me tight, his beard bristling my forehead as my eyes slip shut. Fuck, he feels good.
“Tell me once you’ve had enough,” I mutter. “I won’t be offended.”
He shakes in a chuckle, his hand drawing up and down my back in a repetitive circuit. I mean to ask him what his usual wake-up time is, but I’m out like a light.
When I wake to the vibration of my watch, the room is dark. It takes me a second to remember Benson. He must have shut off the lights before falling asleep.
Turning, I find his silhouette barely visible atop the mattress. He’s on his side, his hand tucked up under his pillow. I hate to wake him, even as I know it’s unavoidable. The ranch will be up and moving soon.
Spinning back around, I search for my CI.
It’s lying on the nightstand, yesterday’s battery still intact.
Slipping that out, I stow it in the charger and grab a new one.
Sound pops on once I settle the device into place and press the button to turn it on.
I nearly laugh when I realize Benson is snoring softly.
Scooting upright, I flick on the small nightstand lamp. Soft light illuminates Benson, setting off a whole host of winged flurries in my stomach as memories from last night surface. Christ.
Benson Harper was naked in my bed. He sucked me off, when he’d never done that before. He mapped every inch of my body with his hands and mouth as if he were setting out to memorize a new path in life.
It felt important. As did his honesty about his nerves when it comes to that sort of attention being reciprocated.
Did I distract him enough from his thoughts? Reassure him enough?
Sometimes Benson is easy to read and others… Other times he’s in his head, and it’s impossible to know what exactly he’s working through.
It didn’t take him long to come down my throat, though. That bodes well, right?
And Lord, I can’t keep thinking about that if I want to get any work whatsoever done today.
With that in mind, I run a hand over Benson’s shoulder. “Ben? It’s morning.”
His eyelids flicker just as a chiming alarm rings out from his phone. Benson turns abruptly, his hand reaching out as if expecting his own nightstand. I wince when he punches the wall.
“Shit. Sorry,” he says, voice holding a gruff edge as his fist circles his chest in apology. He roots around under the sheets before pulling his phone free and shutting off the alarm.
“Your hand okay?”
He nods, rubbing a palm down his face before his eyes focus on me. The soft, “Morning,” accompanied by his hands adding the implied good to the sentiment has a smile tugging at my cheek.
“You know, I could get used to this.”
‘What’s that?’ Benson signs before pushing himself upright.
I hum, getting a little caught in the way his arms move and the bunch of his shirt across his torso. Not to mention the sleep-tousled hair and soft, caramel eyes. Sleepy Benson is a sight to behold.
“Waking with you in my bed,” I answer. “When you look sated and sound freshly fucked.”
Benson’s chest hitches, the man pausing for a second before his eyes climb, first to the CI behind my ear and then to my eyes. “Do I sound like that?”
“Mhm. Your voice is deeper in the morning. Makes it easy to imagine you’ve been yelling my name.”
“Jesus, Remi.”
“Ohh, yeah. Like that, only louder. Make sure Ash can hear you.”
Benson snorts before his eyes widen. “Is he here?”
I nod as I chuckle. “He’ll be downstairs getting breakfast ready.”
Something sparks in Benson’s expression, playful, as his lips twitch. Raising his voice, he theatrically moans, “Fucking hell, Remi.”
I howl with laughter as Benson’s cheeks turn bright red, the man clearly embarrassed by his own daring. “My God. Do it again?”
“Not a chance,” he says solemnly.
“Hm. That sounds like a challenge to me.”
Benson slaps his hand over my mouth before I can do my best to convince him to moan for me a second time.
I fall back against the bed, my laughter abandoning me when Benson follows me down, replacing his hand with his mouth.
He kisses me hard, stealing the air from my lungs, the force of his attack gentling almost instantly into something earnest and softly surprised.
Like even Benson is astonished to have found himself here.
He leans back, brown eyes holding mine for only a moment before he kisses me again. My head sinks into my pillow, my body waking up despite the chaste nature of the kiss. Maybe because of it. Benson’s thumb rolls over my cheek, slow, content.
There’s something supremely attractive about a person who values connection outside of sex. Who doesn’t expect it. Isn’t always racing towards it.
I have no doubt Benson would be just as happy to kiss me as he would be to fuck me, and hell if that doesn’t make me want to spend the entire day with him hidden away in this bed.
“I’m feeling very selfish,” I tell him once I can pull in a breath.
Benson’s fingers trail down the front of my neck, which doesn’t help my resolve to be a responsible working adult one bit. “Why’s that?”
“Because… Fuck, Ben. Because you’re stroking my neck right now, and all I can think about is calling in sick so you can explore my vocal cords some more.”
He stills as my meaning sinks in. “I…wasn’t trying…”
I groan lightly. “I know you weren’t being suggestive. You’re so damn sweet. And I don’t want you to stop, but I need you to. Just for a little bit.”
He nods, shifting away. I grab his hand before he can get far, curling his palm against my neck.
“I like the way you touch me,” I tell him, needing to make sure he understands.
His eyes trail down from his hand to where the sheet is pooled around my hips. “But it turns you on.”
“Mr. Harper,” I exclaim, my grin popping wide.
“Oh, God. Please don’t call me that.”
“I was going to say it makes me feel seen and appreciated. Because every time you touch me, it’s in a way you know I’ll enjoy. But yes, you do turn me on. So damn much. And I don’t think the ranch hands need to see the evidence when we join them for breakfast.”
Benson drops his forehead to my shoulder, muttering words too quiet for me to understand. I wait for him to pop upright, his hands rising with him. ‘Is it possible to die from embarrassment? Is everyone going to know?’
“Well… You’ve never been here for breakfast before.”
He groans, his fingers flicking into a curse I sure didn’t teach him. ‘It’s like college all over again.’
I wait to have Benson’s attention before signing, ‘And that was so very long ago.’
Looking me straight in the eye, Benson retorts with a flat, ‘Asshole.’
I bark a laugh that has his lips twitching into a smile. “It won’t be so bad. Maybe no one will even notice.”
“Famous last words,” Benson says around a sigh.
It doesn’t take us long to get ready, having showered last night. Downstairs, we find Ash in the kitchen as expected, putting final touches on breakfast for the ranch. And sitting at the table, sipping her morning coffee?
My mom.
Next to her, my dad looks up from yesterday’s newspaper, his glasses at the edge of his nose. “Ah. Morning, Remi. Benson.”
“Good morning,” Benson says stiffly, starting to pale.
My mom gives us a smile. “Sleep well?”
I’m fairly sure Benson mutters, “Oh, God,” likely remembering the fact that he shouted my name like a porn star a mere ten minutes ago.
Ash appears to be biting the inside of his cheek.
“Slept great,” I tell my mom, shooting her a look as I grab a mug for Benson’s coffee. I fill it quickly before ushering the poor guy out of the room. “See y’all at breakfast.”
I spot Jackson in the dining room, but I hurry Benson past into the living room.
His hands fly as he takes a seat on the couch. ‘So I’ll be moving back to Utah. It was really nice knowing you.’
‘Stop,’ I tell him with a smile. I set his coffee on the table, and Benson picks up the mug, taking a sip. ‘Everything is fine. We’re adults. It doesn’t have to be weird.’
Benson’s wide eyes lock on mine as he sets the mug back down. ‘I moaned your name while your parents were in the house, Remi.’
‘We don’t know they heard for sure.’
He stares at me blankly. ‘The probability is high.’
I try to hold back my laugh but fail. ‘Want to hide upstairs until everyone is gone? Or we could smuggle some food out to the barn.’
He eases out a breath, shaking his head before sipping his coffee again. He holds it in one hand as he pinches his fingers in a no.
I rub his arm. ‘For what it’s worth, I really enjoyed hearing you moan my name.’
Benson scrubs a hand over his beard. ‘I lied. This is worse than college. I never got caught in high school, so the universe is recreating the experience for me.’
‘Your mom never even caught you kissing someone?’
‘I never kissed anyone in high school,’ Benson clarifies. ‘I was too busy…trying to get by, I guess. I was a late bloomer when it came to relationships.’
‘Nothing wrong with that.’ I give his leg a quick squeeze. ‘And the universe isn’t punishing you.’
Benson’s hands move in a swiftly resigned, ‘I know. I’m just being dramatic.’
I snort. ‘You and Auggie have that in common.’
With a huff, Benson polishes off his coffee, the mug clacking as he sets it down. ‘Remi. I’m not ashamed.’
My chest warms. ‘I didn’t think you were.’
‘I’m just…private. About a lot of things.’
‘I get it, Ben. I’m sorry if the chaos around here is a bit much.’
He shifts my way, head shaking slightly. ‘No more chaotic than my family. Be right back, okay?’
‘You’re not running, are you?’ I tease.
His lips twitch. ‘Bathroom. I’ll be back before breakfast starts.’ After a pause, he adds, ‘I’m not running from you, Remi.’
The swelling beneath my ribcage is almost too much. Lips in a smile, I very slowly, very pointedly, sign two words. ‘Good boy.’
Benson clears his throat, pushing off the couch. As he steps past me, his fingertips drag across my neck the same way they did last night. I groan, and Benson chuckles.
Apparently, he’s found some cheekiness to accompany him through the morning.
Whether or not he realizes it, Benson Harper is right at home here at the Darling Ranch.