Benji closes the sliding door. He turns around and leans against the glass with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Come here,” I say.
He crosses the room and stands between my knees. His hands find my face, tilting it up, his thumbs on my cheekbones. He bends down and kisses me. My hands go to his hips, pulling him closer.
“I want to try something new tonight,” I say. “If you’re willing.”
“I’m always willing. Tell me.”
“I want to be inside you, Benji.”
His whole body goes still. His hands are on my face, his thumbs frozen on my cheekbones. He drops to his knees in front of the chair so we’re eye level. His hands grip my thighs.
“Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about this?” he asks. “Do you have any idea?”
“Probably about as long as I have.”
He lets out a laugh. “I doubt it. Since the first time you put your hands on me on that counter at rehab I’ve been lying in my bed in Miami thinking about what it would feel like tohave you inside me. I told you I was going to rock your world if I ever got the chance. Remember that?”
“I remember.”
“I meant it. Every word. I’ve had this planned in my head for weeks, Mickey. The positioning, the angles, everything. I’ve got it all figured out.” He’s smiling, his eyes blazing. “You don’t need to worry about a single thing. Sit back, relax, enjoy the ride. Literally.”
“You’ve already planned this?”
“Of course. How many times do I need to tell you. Planner is in my job title. I plan. And I do yoga four times a week. Pilates since I was twenty-three. My hip flexors are a marvel of modern fitness. I can hold positions you would not believe.” He leans forward, his mouth close to my ear. “I’ve got this. All you have to do is let me.”
“There’s one thing I need to tell you about,” I say. “I took a blue pill. The doctors prescribed them. For blood flow. For the mechanics part.”
I brace for the moment to shift. For his face to change. For pity or discomfort or the careful neutral expression people use when they’re trying not to react.
Benji sits back on his heels. “Awesome,” he says. “That’s smart. Why didn’t you say something before?”
“I wasn’t sure how you would feel about it. You don’t—”
“Mickey. Do you know how many men take that pill? They take them recreationally, not because they medically need it.” He puts his hand on my knee. “My friend Nicholas took one at a club once because his ex-boyfriend showed up.He wanted to be ready for whatever the night brought. What the night brought was a painful three-hour conversation with a bartender about astrology while the pill was very much still working. He had to carry his jacket in front of him when he left the club. I laughed so hard I called Dante at three in the morning to tell him about it.”
I’m laughing. The knot in my stomach loosening.
“So yes,” Benji says. “Take the pill. Take two. Thank modern medicine.”
“No, not two. The doctor made that clear. Only take one.”
“Oh, right,” he says. “Good point. I got overexcited there. Never come to me for medical advice. Now stop talking about it because I have plans for you tonight that require your full attention. When did you take it?”
“About thirty minutes.”
He grins and stands. “Excellent. We’re wasting time. Move it. I’ll go freshen up quickly.” He kisses me once, hard, his hand on the back of my neck. Then he steps back, giving me room.
I transfer to the bed and settle back against the headboard, legs arranged on the navy comforter. He returns a few minutes later. When I glance up, he’s staring at my arms.
“What? Is something wrong?”
“Absolutely not,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head. “I’m drooling over your arms again. They cause me to lose brain cells. I thought you should know.”
He climbs onto the bed. His mouth finds my neck, my jaw, the spot below my ear. My hands go to his back — the lean muscle along his spine, the dip at the base. His mouth moves from my neck to my chest, trailing heat, his tongue tracing a line between my pecs.
He strips my shorts off, then his own shorts and boxers. He’s naked, hard, his cock curving toward his stomach. He sees me staring.
