The Promise
Page 58

It wasn’t just clean.
It was also the sweet Benny gave me.
I felt it more when, still giggling, his arm shot out and wrapped around my waist. He pulled me his way so my front was tucked to his side and I was watching from close as he stirred the sauce, the sweet, spicy scent enveloping me.
I slid my arms around him and rested my cheek against his chest.
“You good now?” he asked quietly, still stirring the sauce.
“Yeah,” I answered, also quietly.
“We got a plan for the next bazillion minutes?” he went on, and I smiled against his chest.
“Yeah.”
He kept stirring, even as I felt his lips touch the top of my hair, and he continued stirring and holding me when they were gone.
And I stood in the curve of Benny Bianchi’s arm, watching his hand holding a long-handled wooden spoon, moving it through a rich, thick red sauce, with its miniscule bits of cream-colored minced garlic and dark green bits of a secret mix of fresh herbs going round and round, the goodness of it filling the air.
Another promise.
Feeling that, it hit me that I found myself—me, Francesca Concetti, having lived thirty-four years with not a lot of great, fleeting moments of happiness, and never much to look forward to—standing in the kitchen of a pizzeria in the curve of the arm of a handsome, good, decent man, living a life full of promise.
The promise of Benny.
So I pressed closer, held on tighter, and took in a deep breath, letting the goodness in the air get right in there so it could settle in sweet.
And when I did, Ben tucked me even closer, held on, and stirred the sauce.
* * * * *
I should have held on tighter.
I should have let that sweet settle deeper.
I didn’t.
Chapter Ten
Come Back to Me
I felt arms tighten on me and the haze of sleep lifted, slightly.
When it did, I felt my body pressed snug against the hard frame of Benny’s, the warmth of our cocoon of covers, and the safety both created.
I tilted my head back, opening my eyes, and I saw Benny.
Half asleep, my belly still did a dip.
As always.
“Hey,” he whispered, his morning voice that beautiful mixture of deep, easy, and gruff.
“Hey,” I replied.
“How you feelin’?” he asked.
“Good,” I answered.
He lifted his head and buried his face in my neck, where he asked, “No, baby, how you feelin’?”
At first, still in the haze of sleep, I didn’t get it.
Then the way Benny’s hands were moving over the material of my nightgown on my back hit me. That wasn’t a lazy first-thing-in-the-morning caress.
It was something else entirely.
And if that didn’t do it, Ben gliding his tongue the length of my neck to the back of my ear, causing a shiver to glide over my skin, would have done it.
And if that didn’t do it, Ben shoving his knee between my legs, forcing me to hook my leg over his thigh, would have done it.
Suddenly, a germ of weirdness attached tight, making my stomach clutch and panic grip me because I knew what he wanted. I knew he was done waiting. I knew it was time.
But I’d had one lover and it had been a long time. I wanted Ben to have what he wanted the way he wanted, but most of all, I wanted him to love it when he got it.
Not to mention everything was riding on this.
Everything.
Just as suddenly as the panic clutched my belly, when his hand slid over my ass at the same time his teeth nipped the skin at the back of my ear, it released and the shiver took hold, making me tremble in his arms.
“Frankie?” he prompted in my ear.
I turned my head and drew in his scent before I brushed my lips against his neck and whispered, “I’m feelin’ good, baby.”
Ben ran his nose along my jaw as he dipped his hand under the hem of my nightie and I felt the warmth of it, skin against skin, at the hollow of my back.
His eyes caught mine. “Got an idea about how I can make the next few minutes real f**kin’ great, honey.”
I hoped it took longer than a few minutes, though I didn’t share this.
I said, “Let’s see what they can bring.”
I saw his eyes smile.
Then mine were closed because his head slanted and he was kissing me.
It was like being back against the wall in my apartment, all hands, mouths, tongue, and need, except I was lying on Benny’s bed pressed tight to him, which was a whole lot better.
But as he took from my mouth, he also pushed his h*ps into mine. I felt something even better and I wanted it even more.
So I slid my hands down his tee, under, up, and in, taking his warmth and strength in through my fingers.
It felt good, good enough to push my h*ps against his and he liked that. He liked it a whole lot. I knew it when he growled into my mouth, pushed his h*ps into mine, and rolled me so I was on my back and he was on me.
And even better.
“Please, f**k, tell me you can take that,” he rumbled against my lips.
“Oh yeah,” I breathed against his.
That was all he needed. His mouth took mine and this kiss wasn’t a replay of the one against the wall. It was deeper, hotter, searing.
God, Benny could kiss.
He would prove he could do other things too when his hand slid up my side, in, and he palmed my breast.
My cl*t pulsed, my back arched, and I broke the kiss to whisper, “Benny.”
He didn’t reply. He curled his fingers into the cup of the nightgown and pulled it down, then he palmed my na**d breast and the difference was a nuance, but that nuance was astounding.
“Benny.” My whisper this time was sharper.
My stomach dropped when Ben slid partially off me, and I opened my eyes to watch his head bend just as his fingers closed around my nipple, rolled, then pulled.
A mew slid up my throat as I felt wet gather between my legs, those legs tangling as best I could get them with Benny’s, and his gaze cut back to my face.
At the look on his, his eyes saturated with hungry heat, I held my breath.
He again rolled, then pulled my nipple and my breath came out of me in a soft gust.
He did it again, my eyes went hooded and my h*ps surged up.
He did it again and I started panting.
“Jesus, baby, am I gonna make you come just teasin’ your tit?” he murmured, his voice mildly disbelieving, mildly awed, and totally turned on.
I tried to open my eyes but was not very successful.
Luckily, I was more successful in pulling my hands out of his shirt, then sliding them up his back and into his hair. I put pressure on and learned Ben didn’t need words.