Kristen Ashley - The Promise

“Ben,” I whispered, but didn’t get out another word because he wasn’t done.

“Babe, you cannot plan life. You can pull out all the stops to plan for everything and life will find a way to fuck with those plans, sock you in the gut, send you scrambling. Through that, you either have the balls not to back down and the strength to know what’s important and hold the fuck on with everything you got, or you don’t have that and you give up ’cause you’re weak. Know two things for certain: I’m not fuckin’ weak and you aren’t either.”

He stopped talking and I said nothing because I had no freaking clue what to say.

So he kept going.

“Countin’ it down, we’ve had one date, haven’t fucked you yet, and we been livin’ with each other for nine days. That time good for you?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Yeah, it’s been good for me too. Good enough I know it’s important, and I already knew it was important, so I’m gonna hold the fuck on with everything I got and I’m takin’ you with me, Frankie.”

“Okay,” I said quietly.

“So yeah, it’s gonna suck,” he stated. “I’d rather live a life knowin’ you were bringin’ your girls into my restaurant to throw back some Chianti and eat one of my pies. I’d rather the immediate future came with you gettin’ to know Sela better because Man may be takin’ his time, but he’s gonna put a ring on her finger. You’re already family, which means you’re in a spot where you two can become sisters like no other women can be, and your two sisters are seriously fuckin’ lacking so you could use a good one. I wanna get into bed beside you at night and know I’m wakin’ up to you in the morning. But right now, I can’t get what I want. I just know what I want. I’ve waited for years. I’m not doin’ fuckin’ cartwheels knowin’ I gotta wait more, but I’ll deal. I just gotta know, are you with me?”

I knew what to say to that.

“Yes, I’m with you, Benny.”

He stared at me.

Then he said, “Fuck, gotta stir the sauce.”

For some reason, this made me want to giggle, but I beat it back and just nodded.

He bent and gave me a quick, slightly annoyed but still sweet kiss on the forehead, took his hands from me, and went to the pots that were more aptly described as vats on the stove.

He stirred.

I approached, stopping just short of the stove to rest my hip against the stainless steel counter.

“I’m a pain in the ass,” I told him, and his eyes cut immediately to me.

“That’d be the part where you aren’t easy.”

God.

God.

Benny.

I took in a breath and released it, and with it, I released a lot of garbage. Something I was not really good at doing on my own. Garbage I’d lived with because I’d never had anyone to help me deal, which meant I buried a lot of garbage and lived with it for a long freaking time, polluting me. And something that Benny seemed remarkably skilled at guiding me into getting clean.

Releasing that, I released everything and was back in the minute with Benny.

Being there, I muttered, “Sauce smells good.”

“That’s ’cause it’s not good, it’s fuckin’ amazing.”

I didn’t beat back the giggle at that. I let it loose, and when I did, even more garbage got released, making me feel it.

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.

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 fuckin’ 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 hips 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 hips against his and he liked that. He liked it a whole lot. I knew it when he growled into my mouth, pushed his hips into mine, and rolled me so I was on my back and he was on me.

And even better.

“Please, fuck, 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 clit 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 naked 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 hips surged up.