Bennett

by Sybil Bartel

  “Bed rest. Doctor’s orders.”

  “I know, I just….” I sucked in a breath, fighting the worst case of nerves I’d ever had around him. “I feel better this morning.” When did he get that tattoo on his back? Had other women put their hands on him, traced the lines, touched the…. I shook my head.

  “What?” he demanded, misreading the shake of my head.

  I dropped my gaze to my feet. “Nothing.”

  “Back to bed. I’ll bring you breakfast.” He turned toward the kitchen.

  I couldn’t stop myself. I looked up at his clothed back. “You don’t have to do that.” I barely got the last word out before he spun.

  His expression deadly serious, he leveled me with a single look. “Need help?”

  I didn’t know if it was Ben’s expression, or his tone, or Marcus, or just everything all at once, but suddenly, I was angry. Words flew out before I could check them. “I didn’t ask you to bring me here, or take care of me, and I definitely didn’t ask you to open the door you opened last night. You don’t get to be mad or blame me for your choices.”

  His nostrils flared with an inhale. “You want to talk about choices?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Let’s start with the one you’re making to protect the asshole who did this to you.”

  Ashamed, indignant, I lashed out. “I don’t know who it was!” It wasn’t a complete lie. I didn’t know who my brother had turned into.

  “You’re lying,” he accused, biting out each word. “It’s written all over your face.”

  “If you know me so well, then you should know what else is written all over my face. Like confusion, or wondering why the hell all of a sudden you care so damn much about me or my life.”

  His face twisted and he roared, “I’ve always cared about you!”

  It was instant. Tears welled, because Ben had never yelled at me.

  “Goddamn it.” He took a step toward me and dropped his voice. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

  My hand shot up. “Forget I said anything.” Blinking back tears, needing to leave, needing to not feel this tension between us, needing a whole new life, I turned.

  “Wait,” he barked.

  I made it two paces.

  His breath landed on my neck and his body heat crawled up my back a second before he grasped my arm. “Jesus, I want to touch you so damn bad, but I don’t even know where I can.”

  “Ben.” I didn’t know if I was begging him to hold me, or pleading with him not to.

  “Answer one question,” he demanded, sweeping my hair across my back.

  I shivered, and a wave of desire shot through my veins, settling in my core. “What?”

  His fingers glanced across my neck where it met my spine, then he pressed into my tense muscles and rubbed in a slow circle. “If circumstances were different, would you have given me a different answer last night?”

  Oh God.

  Despite the soreness still taking up residence in my body, his massaging hands felt so good. I fought a moan and tried to dodge his question. “I’m not sure what you’re asking. There are no other circumstances.”

  His hand cupped the back of my neck. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I said I want more. Answer the question, Elyssia.”

  I’d seen Ben play drums. I’d watched his hands move with incredible speed and precision. I’d seen him work through katas like he was born to master martial arts. I’d been at Seven-oh-One while he’d quietly ignored women’s advances, and I’d witnessed him respectfully defer to my mother’s authority, even while she was in hospice. But I’d never really understood how incredibly alpha Ben was until this very moment.

  His command, his very presence, the way he controlled the tone of his voice and touch of his hands to elicit a response out of me without anger, but with absolute authority, was both disarming and so, so tempting to give in to. Except he didn’t make it feel like I was giving in. He made it seem natural and safe, and I wanted to give him every answer in the world. But nothing between us was as simple as a single question.

  “There’s more than my bruises between us.” I didn’t want to say I didn’t trust him. I trusted Ben with my life. But not with my heart.

  As if reading my thoughts, he brought it up. “Put aside the band and take your brother out of the equation, then answer.”

  “I can’t separate reality from truth.”

  “Answer,” he demanded, turning me to face him.

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  His sharp inhale made gooseflesh race across my skin. “Elyssia,” he whispered, a split second before his lips landed on mine.

  Soft and gentle, he kissed me. It was nothing like our first kiss. He didn’t slam his body into me and sink his hands into my hair. He didn’t growl or thrust his hips. He tenderly, sweetly slid his tongue into my mouth and kissed me with reverence.

  An ache built between my legs that was only matched by the pain in my chest for something I didn’t know how to have. I wanted Ben. I wanted him so bad, but I couldn’t choose him over my brother. I couldn’t choose my pleasure over the only family I had left. And I would be lying if I said the years of Marcus’s warnings about rock stars and their lifestyle didn’t plague the back of my mind. Marcus had sworn Ben would never respect me, not once he was on the road.

  But the man kissing me right now, careful and gentle, but utterly commanding, he was respecting me. His palm cupping my face, angling me into his kiss, he stroked through my mouth with restraint that told me he cared for me. Deeply.

  I reached for him out of instinct, out of need, but the second my hands wrapped around the back of his neck, he ended the kiss with a sharp inhale.

  The memory of his reaction from our first kiss came roaring back, and rejection slapped me in the face.

  I dropped my arms.

  MY REACTION TIME FAST as fuck from drumming, I caught the back of her neck before she could take off again.

  I knew what she was thinking. “No.” I brought my forehead to hers. “I’m not pulling away because I don’t want you.” I stroked the side of her neck with my thumb, wishing I could touch every inch of her. “You’re injured.”

  “I know.” It wasn’t regret or even fear that clouded her expression. It was sorrow.

  Thrown, I let my thoughts bleed out. “I’ll be home in two months. We don’t have another tour planned.” We were all tired as fuck and needed a break. Myles had said we’d take a year and cut a new album. Eventually we’d need to get back on the road to stay relevant, but I didn’t know if I wanted to stay relevant. I’d earned more in the past year than I’d ever dreamed about making in a lifetime.

  Elyssia didn’t react. Her gaze steadfast on my chest, she didn’t even look at me. “That’ll be nice for you, to have a break.”

  Nice? I didn’t give a fuck about nice. “I don’t care what it’s like for me.”

  She sucked in a breath. Then a small cough reminded me of every discolored spot on her back and legs.

  I flipped into protective mode. “You’re going back to bed.” I didn’t wait for her protest. I picked her up. “No arguments.”

  Her small hands wrapped around my neck, and my chest fucking tightened at her trust. Carrying her to my bed, I had every intention of laying her down and backing the fuck off. I was going to put her oxygen back on, even though I knew the exact moment at three a.m. when she woke up and inhaled deep, no longer needing the extra air. I was going to feed her and tell her to go back to sleep even though the color was back in her face this morning. And I was going to insist she stay in bed all day despite seeing her walk without pain etched across her face.

  Every damn one of those thoughts were beating against the pounding desire to take her as I laid her down in my bed. I was fighting the good fight, until she said two words that unhinged me.

  “Don’t go.”

  My arms still under her, I lifted her back up and moved her further into the middle of my bed. Lying down, I allowed myself a single kiss to her shoulder. �
��I need a shower.” I’d been drumming my frustration out for hours.

  Hesitant, she trailed a finger over the ink on my forearm. “I like how you smell right now.”

  Jesus, I wanted to take her. “Ditto.” Warm, woman, her soap or shampoo or lotion or whatever the fuck she used, she smelled incredible, like my bed and her.

  Her finger moved up my arm. “You didn’t have these a year ago.”

  I did. I’d just hidden them. But I wasn’t ready to explain why to her. “I had half sleeves.”

  “Half sleeves?”

  I studied her, looking for a reaction. “Shoulders to elbows.” I didn’t know if she liked the ink or not.

  She traced a skull. “Do they have meaning behind them?”

  Every damn one. “Yes.”

  She was a quiet a moment. “Why did you get them?”

  I liked the pain. But I gave her a different answer. “I’m not the kid you knew in high school.” A foster in borrowed clothes couldn’t afford the ink I had.

  Her finger traveled over my bicep. “No, you aren’t.”

  I wanted to grab her hand and shove her arm above her head as I kissed the fuck out of her, but I didn’t move. “Neither are you.” The sweet girl who’d smiled at me every day wouldn’t keep secrets from me.

  Her hand coasted down my chest, then her fingers spread wide across my abs. “What if I want what I can’t have,” she whispered.

  I wanted to fucking shout with victory at her admission, but I didn’t show a single damn reaction. “Who says you can’t have me?” I wasn’t going to pretend I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. “Your brother doesn’t get to control your life.”

  “He doesn’t control it.” She didn’t hesitate, but she also didn’t look at me when she said it.

  I tipped her chin. “You’re right, he doesn’t.”

  The same sorrow I’d seen earlier clouded her expression again as she boldly slid her hand under my shirt. “I can’t—”

  I stopped the rest of her words with my mouth.

  Swallowing her needy moan, I was done holding back. I kissed the fuck out of her. Careful not to crush against her injuries, I stroked my tongue deep and dominated her mouth like I wanted my cock to dominate her core.

  I was a fucking asshole for starting something. I shouldn’t have been touching her until she was all the way healed, but the thought drowned when her hand landed on my dick.

  Jesus fuck.

  My fingers cuffed her wrist in a half second flat. “Elyssia,” I warned.

  Her lips wet from my kiss, her nipples straining through my T-shirt, she looked up at me with pure need. “Please,” she begged.

  Fucking Christ.

  My cock throbbing, I issued a command. “Lift your shirt.”

  She hesitated.

  I slid my hand up her wrist to her palm and entwined our fingers. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do.” Not for the first time, I wondered how much experience she had with men. “I want to see where else you’re bruised.”

  “Nowhere,” she said quickly.

  “Show me.” I wasn’t fucking touching her until I saw.

  The hand not captive in my grip didn’t hesitate this time. She lifted the front of her T-shirt to just below her breasts.

  Inhaling, I took in her smooth, perfect skin, her flat stomach and the soft swell of her hips. She was so damn beautiful. No bruises marred her stomach, but she was also thinner than the girl I remembered in cutoffs and tank tops during the long summer months before the band took off.

  My eyes on hers, I leaned down and touched my lips to her hip. “How badly are you hurting?”

  She slowly lifted her shirt all the way up. “I’m fine.”

  I forced myself to hold her gaze before I fucking feasted on the swell of her perfect breasts. “No bruises,” I murmured, crawling up her sweet body to take her tight nipple in my mouth.

  Her back arched, and she moaned out my name. “Ben.”

  I sucked hard, then moved to the other nipple. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

  Her free hand landed in my hair. “I want you.”

  I’d waited so goddamn long for this moment, I was ready to come in my fucking jeans just having my mouth on her, but I couldn’t take her like this. “You need to heal, Elyssia.”

  She gripped the side of my face and determination filtered into her expression. “You’re only home a few more days.”

  Despite the blood rushing to my dick, I stilled. “You’re putting a time limit on this?”

  Her face shut down, her hands dropped and she pulled her shirt down.

  I didn’t let go of her hand. “What just happened?”

  “Nothing.” She tried to pull away.

  There were a dozen different ways I could’ve handled her, all of them better than what I was about to do.

  I rolled to my back and pulled her on top of me. Grabbing her ass, I pushed her hips down as I thrust up. “You’re done lying to me.”

  Her gasp of surprise turned into a moan, and her eyes fluttered shut.

  I gripped her face as my cock pulsed against her heat. “Look at me,” I demanded.

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  “Understand this.” I slowly ground into her. “I don’t want any other damn woman, only you. It’s always been you.” I was fucking shaking, I wanted to take her so bad.

  Her eyes widened, and her lips parted as if she was about to protest.

  I put a finger against her mouth. “You don’t get to lie to me. Not in the bedroom, not about what you want, not about us. I don’t know what you thought this was, but I’m not opening the door between us only to have it slammed shut the second I’m on tour.” I dropped my finger from her lips. “This is all-in, or nothing. But all-in doesn’t mean something has to happen right now. You want to heal, you want to wait until I’m back from tour, fine. But if you have reservations, or if you want to end this now, you tell me. Understand?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Good, because I’m respecting the fact that you’re injured and you’re not ready to talk about what happened to you, but know that my patience is only going to last so long. No matter what we decide about us, you’re going to tell me what happened to you, and we’ll deal with it. You’re done holding back, you hear me?”

  She bit her bottom lip, then words saturated in grief spilled out of her mouth. “I only have here and now. I can’t have you at the expense of my brother. Don’t make me choose.”

  Fucking finally. “I’ll handle Marcus.” I knew his attitude toward me was holding her back.

  For two heartbeats, she stared at me. “It’s not that simple.”

  I was going to make it that simple for her. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “He’s not….” She sucked in a breath. “He’s not going to change his mind, not easily, or if at all about us.”

  My dick surged at her last word. There was definitely an us. “We’ll ride it out.” He couldn’t be mad at her forever, and I’d make damn sure he was civil to her while I was around.

  “You don’t understand.”

  I understood perfectly, but I didn’t know if she did. “He needs help you can’t give him, Elyssia.” He needed to deal with his anger. “I’ll get him professional help, if that’s what it takes, but you can’t fix someone who doesn’t want help.” I knew that firsthand. My father worked himself to death. As his health declined, I’d begged him to see a doctor, but he’d adamantly refused, saying doctors were a waste of money and a hard day’s work solved everything. He was dead a month later and I was thirteen-year-old orphan.

  “This isn’t something you can throw money at,” she protested.

  “Is that you talking or your brother?” Because money could fix a hell of a lot, like a good shrink with the right medication.

  Frustration clouded her features. “He already has help. He has a VA counselor, and he….” She trailed off.

  “He what?”

  She ex
haled and the sorrow in her eyes came back worse than before. “He takes medication for his depression. Please don’t tell him I told you. But no medication is going to make him see you in a different light. I can’t… I can’t be in the middle of you two. He’s all I have.”

  “He is not all you have.” I held her gaze. “You have me.” Wanting to wipe the pain away for her, wanting the sadness in her eyes gone, I kissed her. I wasn’t intending to take it further, but the second my lips touched hers, she melted into me.

  Her body on top of mine, her submission, the trust she gave me without words, it fueled something so fucking deep, adrenaline surged.

  My hands gripped her face and her ass, and I drove my tongue into her mouth as I thrust against the sweet heat between her legs.

  A sound I’d never heard her make ripped from her lungs.

  My chest heaving, I pushed her away only enough to see her eyes. “You breathing okay?”

  “Yes, yes, yes.” She frantically shoved my shirt up.

  Not taking my eyes off hers, I pulled my T-shirt over my head, then I stilled, wondering if she would notice it.

  Her hands roaming, her gaze took in my biceps, my shoulders. She traced skulls, and her finger brushed over the image of the roses her mother used to grow. With a gentle touch, she turned my arm, looking at all of the ink before moving to my other arm. Her fingers, her gaze, they continued their exploration until she turned my other arm over.

  I held my fucking breath.

  Her finger ran down my arm, then she froze. “Ben?” Shock quieted her voice. “That’s….”

  “E-L-M.” My heart fucking pounded. “Your initials.” With a tree of life surrounding them.

  Her gaze cut to me, and her eyes welled. “You tattooed my name on you?”

  I put my hand over my chest. Her initials, permanently inked on my skin, landed on my heart. “Always you.” I stared at her.

  “You hide this.” Her voice broke. “Every concert. I see the pictures. I saw you that night. You wear long sleeves.”

  My throat moved with a swallow. “No one was going to see my ink… not until you saw it.”