Chapter 12 #2
“I’ll make this right, Benji. Whatever you want.
Your share in the patent is already established.
That’s a done deal, but if we need to revisit that, we can if you think it’s unfair.
Even if you tell me right now that you’re done working on it, or done working with me, that doesn’t change.
This gear is as much your work as it is mine. ”
“It’s ours,” I heard him say. We were both quiet, then I finally heard him walking toward me until he was at my side. I wanted to move, but my body didn’t cooperate, staying where it was, my vision blocked by a curtain of hair as I hovered over the table.
“It’s ours,” I agreed as I felt my hair being swept away.
I stood and faced Benji. He tucked my hair behind both ears before holding my head steady between two warm, trembling hands.
“I want to work here,” he whispered, and he seemed so much closer to me than he had ever been, heat shimmering between our bodies. “But that’s going to be really fucking complicated,” he said, “after …” He paused.
“After what?” I whispered back. I thought I knew, but I had confused signals before, and I needed this one to be really clear and to come one hundred percent from Benji.
“After I do this,” he said, his lips so close they practically brushed mine. I held my breath, and he held that position, remarkably close yet so far away. Behind me, the printer scratched out sound, marking the time with each click and glide.
A fire burned between us as he leaned in and skimmed his lips against mine, his warm hands steadier as they held me in place so that I couldn’t seek out more as he all too soon pulled away to look up at me, a question in his eyes.
I could feel my lips quirk on one side, a lopsided smile forming between the security of his hands.
My eyes danced, and my heart sang. My dick pulsed in my khakis, but I ignored that.
I’d had other kisses, but they had always been a means to an end that had very much involved that particular organ.
Our kiss had been different. It had been so much more.
Cautiously, Benji smiled back.
“You called me baby before, didn’t you?” I asked, my smile growing uncontrollably.
His head dropped, but his hands never left my face. He nodded to the ground, groaning.
“Say it again,” I implored.
“Anson.”
“Nu-uh,” I teased. “That’s not my name.”
“Anson. We’re in the lab. We should be working.” He looked up at me.
My smile was full and bright. I could feel the change in my face and in my demeanor. Hell, my whole body was relaxed. Teasing was not something I did often, but I repeated his words back to him, an uptick in my voice denoting a question at the end.
“We’re in the lab …” My hands came to his waist, bringing us that much closer together, without our bodies touching. It was the sweetest torture to feel the heat dancing between us, to know that he felt it too.
I leaned in and whispered in his ear, my hair falling and brushing his shoulder. “Say it,” I breathed on him, and I could sense the shiver that ran through him. I straightened and looked into those chocolate eyes. They danced, but there was reservation there too.
“We’re in the lab, baby. We should get back to work.”
“We should get out of the fucking lab!” I countered.
He kissed me again, his hands brushing my shoulders and holding me there.
His mouth came down on mine with more force than last time, our arms still cautiously keeping our bodies separated.
I wanted to draw him in but hesitated—we were at work, after all—instead squeezing his waist as I angled my head, seeking more.
He responded by meeting the movement, equal and opposite, then opening his mouth for me.
Equal, I thought. That’s what it was, why we fit so well together.
We thought alike, we worked in a similar fashion, we kept the same hours or would if left to our druthers.
We’d even lived in the same town and graduated from the same university.
We were equals, despite my age, our relative positions, and our net worth.
My tongue found its way in as a moan found its way out of my partner, and we stood there, our bodies chaste, our mouths on fire, exploring and pleasing.
Like when we collaborated to solve an equation, his soft lips, sweetened by the soda he’d had upstairs, complimented mine in every way, answering every question I posed, completing every formula, bouncing ideas back and forth until they escalated into something that was so much better than either of us could ever accomplish on our own or with anyone else. I was sure of it.
Benji pulled away first, stepping out of my embrace. He raised his hand, one finger asking me to wait without words. Somewhere behind me, the printer had stopped, rendering the room silent after our rustling ceased.
“I think …” Benji muttered as he ran to the desk and opened one of the laptops that sat on it. Before long, he was tapping away at the keyboard. I busied myself by extracting the finished product from the printer, which nicely helped my pulse return to normal.
“Come look,” he said before long. His voice was soft, almost shy, not the frenzied pitch we’d used most often when we were working and not the heated desperation that had led to the most magnificent kiss of my life.
I wondered if our excited energy over the past few weeks had really been masking a nervous energy, a sexual tension, if you will, for both of us.
Leaning over his shoulder, my hair fell in that manner that generally annoyed me. I straightened my spine with a frustrated grunt and began to pull the band from my wrist.
“Don’t,” he whispered, looking up at me.
I rolled my eyes because the locks really were an inconvenience when they weren’t being contained.
But if he liked to see me with my hair down, I would be happy to comply.
I pulled it back with my hand, tucking it behind both ears, then giving it a twist in the hopes it would stay somewhat out of the way as I leaned back down.
“Can we try to print this tonight?” he asked, his eyes on the screen.
I nodded, allowing my cheek to almost brush his, ignoring the hair fluttering between us.
“Benji! You got it! I think that’s it. Yeah. Load it up!”
For all the thought and trial and error that went into our calculations, sending a test to the printer was almost anticlimactic in how easy it was. Before long, another machine was clacking and whirring, and Benji and I were face-to-face again under the harsh light of the industrial room.
“I’ve made things very complicated,” he confessed.
I pointed to the screen. “I think you’ve actually just solved a very complex problem.”
I smiled as Benji rolled his eyes at me like I just had at him. To my pattering heart, it felt like another perfectly logical connection between us, this similar way of communicating similar feelings.
People had been frustrated with me before in social situations, but I only sensed amusement from Benji, not irritation. I liked amusing him.
“We’ve made things complicated, Benji. But …
” I thought about my answer, wanting to get it right.
“But I think we can figure out how to make it work.” I realized then that what I wanted to say may have been much too much and way too soon.
Something about how well we worked together, how we fit together, how we complimented each other. How important his kiss had been.
For all I knew, Benji might have been thinking he’d found a willing partner for the evening.
I’d certainly met those types of men before.
Hell, I’d been that type of man. I guess part of me was starting to think I’d always be that type of man.
It just seemed easier than a relationship and much safer since I was the type of person who might attract someone for the wrong reasons.
I was fairly sure I’d established that Benji didn’t want me for my money. He hadn’t even replied when I told him we could renegotiate his contract. Hell, he didn't even want me to pay for dinner on Friday.
Dinner. On Friday. With Benji’s father. Yeah, I would say things were complicated.
But Benji had confessed to me that he’d been a fan of mine when he was younger. Was that all I was to him? Some famous tech-bro fantasy? Maybe our interaction wasn’t as complicated for him as it was for me. Maybe the kiss was simple wish fulfilment.
“Anson?” he questioned.
Benji was staring at me intently as I cataloged the many, many ways that kissing him was a bad idea.
His voice brought me out of my fog. Immediately, the list was wiped from my brain, like an eraser to a chaotic whiteboard.
Did those things matter when I felt the way I did every time I looked at him?
I was confident they didn’t, so long as Benji was in agreement.
I would give him whatever he wanted even if that was just a fling with a fantasy.
And if I ended up hurt at the other end, I would take comfort in knowing that I’d made him happy for as long as he let me.
“Benji.” I smiled. I would never before have described my voice as tender, but that’s how it sounded to my ears.
I ran my hand down his cheek, and I knew what he was going to say before he said it. So I said it instead.
“Not at work, right?”
He chuckled, but his response came out even more tender, though I sensed it held a tinge of sadness. “Yeah, something like that.”
I leaned down anyway and pressed a quick kiss to his downturned lips.
“Last one,” I promised. “We have work to do!”