The Promise
Page 30
Then she found it no longer in her hands and her body no longer up on pillows but on its back down the bed, her side pinned by his front and his face in hers.
“Do not move like that,” he growled, and she stared up at him, eyes wide, as he did.
“Benny.”
“I’m all for a pillow fight in three weeks when your stitches have dissolved, you don’t wake dazed and fightin’ pain, and I don’t have a heart attack every time you do somethin’ jerky or abrupt.”
“Ben—”
“You need to see to yourself, Francesca. You don’t, like I just demonstrated, I will.”
He watched it pass through her eyes. That good something he was getting meant he’d said or done something she liked, but she wasn’t going to give it to him straight out, and he felt her body relax against his.
“You got me?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she answered.
“You hurt yourself just now?” he pressed.
“No, Ben. It’s actually been a good day,” she told him.
“You woke rough,” he told her.
“I know. It was weird. But I rallied faster.”
“It worried me.”
He watched her entire face soften to a look that made beauty indescribable before she said, “Nat’s brand of good-morning notwithstanding, it’s the best day I’ve had since it happened.”
“You good with Pop?”
“Yeah, Benny.”
“Good.”
She was silent a moment before she asked, “You done being a hotheaded, protective, Italian guy?”
“I’m never done with that.”
At that, he felt her body melt against his and she whispered, “Ben,” but said no more.
He wasn’t done talking. Not with her body partly under his, her eyes on his, her hair all over his bed.
He had something to say.
So he said it.
“I wanna kiss you.”
Her body tensed, and not the bad way. The f**king good one. But she said nothing.
“You got until Monday,” he informed her.
She drew her lower lip between her teeth, and f**k, he wanted to kiss her even more.
Instead, carefully, gently, he rolled, taking her with him and pulling her up so he was, again, on his back on the pillows and she was tucked to his side, head to his chest.
Once he got her in place, it was Frankie who snaked her arm around his gut.
Progress. Fucking finally.
He aimed his eyes at the TV but said, “You wanna wear somethin’ nice for Vi and her girls, I’ll take you to your place in the morning.”
“Thanks, Benny,” she said softly, pressing closer to him.
He slid his fingers from her hip up her side, over her shoulder blade, and into her hair. Once there, he used his thumb to curl a lock around his finger again and again.
He felt her sigh and he knew it was half a sigh.
He also knew she was giving him more, but she was still holding back.
For now, he’d give her that play.
She had until Monday.
Chapter Five
Drawer in the Bathroom
I stood at the door of my own apartment while Benny inserted the key.
At least he shoved open the door and stepped back for me to go in first.
“Thanks,” I snapped.
He grinned.
I rolled my eyes, walked into my apartment, and instantly felt weird.
I’d moved into that place six months after Vinnie died, leaving the semi-deluxe condo Vinnie put us in when he started to make decent money with Sal. Sal told me he’d cover the rent on my old place, but I said no because I thought that was weird. Anyway, it would pinch, but I could afford it on my own.
The real reason I left the condo was because I couldn’t be in our place anymore. It had memories of Vinnie everywhere. Sometimes I could swear even the smell of him would hit me, making it all come back, pain so immense I couldn’t breathe.
I was so desperate to get out I’d signed the lease on the first place I looked at. It wasn’t a great place, but it was in a good neighborhood. You walked into the dining area from the corridor. Kitchen off to the side. Living room off the dining area. A balcony off that with views of the city. Down a hall, two bedrooms, both with balconies to that view. Guest bath in the hall. The master had a bath and walk-in closet. A big utility closet for a washer and dryer, and storage in the hall.
It was everything I needed.
It just had no personality.
Well, it did when I’d done it up, made it a place I liked coming home to, a place I liked to spend time in, mostly because I spent a lot of time in it.
But bare bones, it had no personality.
Now, it was almost back to that, seeing as it was weird walking into my place because I hadn’t been there in weeks. It was also weird walking into it because a lot of it had been boxed up in preparation to move. Nothing on the walls. Ready to be void.
Shaking off the weird, I looked to Benny to see he was throwing the door closed behind him, but his eyes were on the boxes stacked three deep, resting against the dining area wall.
He didn’t look happy.
“I’ll just be a minute,” I told him, and his gaze cut to me.
“Grab what you wanna wear to dinner tomorrow while you’re at it,” he ordered.
I gave him a look to tell him how I felt about him ordering me around and then I stomped down the hall to show him how I felt about him ordering me around. I did the last without looking at him, because when I gave him the look, he stopped looking ticked and started grinning.
Once in my walk-in closet, I slapped hangers across the rail, looking for a dress that wouldn’t make Benny hard (knowing this was a fruitless endeavor; I was me, I was about impact, and apparently, he really liked me and my impact) and wondering why I agreed to have dinner with him.
I wondered, but I knew.
He was being persuasive in the way only Ben could be, which was bound to be successful.
In other words, he was fighting his own good fight and he was a lot better at it.
A date with Benny.
I couldn’t say no.
I wanted to. I even fought it. But I caved.
I also wanted to make my boundaries clear by not lying in bed with him and watching TV.
But did I manage that?
No.
Instead, I not only lay in bed with him, I lay cuddled in bed with him, Benny playing with my hair, which felt so nice, I couldn’t describe how nice it felt. I even eventually fell asleep against him watching TV, Benny playing with my hair.
The good fight was not working, being quiet, giving in to get my way in the end. Because giving in meant being around Benny who was showing he was a lot more than gentle, could take direction, do the dishes, and make a great pizza.
“Do not move like that,” he growled, and she stared up at him, eyes wide, as he did.
“Benny.”
“I’m all for a pillow fight in three weeks when your stitches have dissolved, you don’t wake dazed and fightin’ pain, and I don’t have a heart attack every time you do somethin’ jerky or abrupt.”
“Ben—”
“You need to see to yourself, Francesca. You don’t, like I just demonstrated, I will.”
He watched it pass through her eyes. That good something he was getting meant he’d said or done something she liked, but she wasn’t going to give it to him straight out, and he felt her body relax against his.
“You got me?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she answered.
“You hurt yourself just now?” he pressed.
“No, Ben. It’s actually been a good day,” she told him.
“You woke rough,” he told her.
“I know. It was weird. But I rallied faster.”
“It worried me.”
He watched her entire face soften to a look that made beauty indescribable before she said, “Nat’s brand of good-morning notwithstanding, it’s the best day I’ve had since it happened.”
“You good with Pop?”
“Yeah, Benny.”
“Good.”
She was silent a moment before she asked, “You done being a hotheaded, protective, Italian guy?”
“I’m never done with that.”
At that, he felt her body melt against his and she whispered, “Ben,” but said no more.
He wasn’t done talking. Not with her body partly under his, her eyes on his, her hair all over his bed.
He had something to say.
So he said it.
“I wanna kiss you.”
Her body tensed, and not the bad way. The f**king good one. But she said nothing.
“You got until Monday,” he informed her.
She drew her lower lip between her teeth, and f**k, he wanted to kiss her even more.
Instead, carefully, gently, he rolled, taking her with him and pulling her up so he was, again, on his back on the pillows and she was tucked to his side, head to his chest.
Once he got her in place, it was Frankie who snaked her arm around his gut.
Progress. Fucking finally.
He aimed his eyes at the TV but said, “You wanna wear somethin’ nice for Vi and her girls, I’ll take you to your place in the morning.”
“Thanks, Benny,” she said softly, pressing closer to him.
He slid his fingers from her hip up her side, over her shoulder blade, and into her hair. Once there, he used his thumb to curl a lock around his finger again and again.
He felt her sigh and he knew it was half a sigh.
He also knew she was giving him more, but she was still holding back.
For now, he’d give her that play.
She had until Monday.
Chapter Five
Drawer in the Bathroom
I stood at the door of my own apartment while Benny inserted the key.
At least he shoved open the door and stepped back for me to go in first.
“Thanks,” I snapped.
He grinned.
I rolled my eyes, walked into my apartment, and instantly felt weird.
I’d moved into that place six months after Vinnie died, leaving the semi-deluxe condo Vinnie put us in when he started to make decent money with Sal. Sal told me he’d cover the rent on my old place, but I said no because I thought that was weird. Anyway, it would pinch, but I could afford it on my own.
The real reason I left the condo was because I couldn’t be in our place anymore. It had memories of Vinnie everywhere. Sometimes I could swear even the smell of him would hit me, making it all come back, pain so immense I couldn’t breathe.
I was so desperate to get out I’d signed the lease on the first place I looked at. It wasn’t a great place, but it was in a good neighborhood. You walked into the dining area from the corridor. Kitchen off to the side. Living room off the dining area. A balcony off that with views of the city. Down a hall, two bedrooms, both with balconies to that view. Guest bath in the hall. The master had a bath and walk-in closet. A big utility closet for a washer and dryer, and storage in the hall.
It was everything I needed.
It just had no personality.
Well, it did when I’d done it up, made it a place I liked coming home to, a place I liked to spend time in, mostly because I spent a lot of time in it.
But bare bones, it had no personality.
Now, it was almost back to that, seeing as it was weird walking into my place because I hadn’t been there in weeks. It was also weird walking into it because a lot of it had been boxed up in preparation to move. Nothing on the walls. Ready to be void.
Shaking off the weird, I looked to Benny to see he was throwing the door closed behind him, but his eyes were on the boxes stacked three deep, resting against the dining area wall.
He didn’t look happy.
“I’ll just be a minute,” I told him, and his gaze cut to me.
“Grab what you wanna wear to dinner tomorrow while you’re at it,” he ordered.
I gave him a look to tell him how I felt about him ordering me around and then I stomped down the hall to show him how I felt about him ordering me around. I did the last without looking at him, because when I gave him the look, he stopped looking ticked and started grinning.
Once in my walk-in closet, I slapped hangers across the rail, looking for a dress that wouldn’t make Benny hard (knowing this was a fruitless endeavor; I was me, I was about impact, and apparently, he really liked me and my impact) and wondering why I agreed to have dinner with him.
I wondered, but I knew.
He was being persuasive in the way only Ben could be, which was bound to be successful.
In other words, he was fighting his own good fight and he was a lot better at it.
A date with Benny.
I couldn’t say no.
I wanted to. I even fought it. But I caved.
I also wanted to make my boundaries clear by not lying in bed with him and watching TV.
But did I manage that?
No.
Instead, I not only lay in bed with him, I lay cuddled in bed with him, Benny playing with my hair, which felt so nice, I couldn’t describe how nice it felt. I even eventually fell asleep against him watching TV, Benny playing with my hair.
The good fight was not working, being quiet, giving in to get my way in the end. Because giving in meant being around Benny who was showing he was a lot more than gentle, could take direction, do the dishes, and make a great pizza.
