The Promise (The 'Burg #5)(90)

He drove deep and grunted his release against my neck, his hand at my ass clasping tight, fingers digging deep.

He didn’t give himself the chance to come down before he rolled us, still connected, so I was resting on top of him. Once there, he heaved a deep breath and kept his hand at my ass while he wrapped the other arm tight along my lower back.

I nuzzled my face in his neck and sighed.

Friday had been good. Ben took another night off work to be with me. So Benny, he took me out to dinner and a movie. Date night. Not Giuseppe’s, but it was still sweet.

That day, Saturday, we slept in. We lazed. We talked in whispers. We made love. Then Ben went to the restaurant and I camped out on his couch, watching TV, relaxing, trying to get to a place where I could accept the promise of a life that was what Benny seemed to be offering me.

Easy.

We’d agreed that my return would not be shared officially with the family (though it was certain Mrs. Zambino had been on her phone, so it was in no doubt this had happened unofficially) until I was ready.

I had a feeling Ben agreed to this to make certain my return took. But I didn’t ask. He wasn’t being cautious; he was all in. But I didn’t suspect my departure with Ben in close proximity of at least Theresa didn’t garner him some headaches. I could see him not wanting to court that again just in case I freaked, did something stupid, f**ked up, and bailed.

“It gets too much, baby, you have my permission to give up on me.”

I said that against his neck. I didn’t think it before it came out. But what I’d been thinking before just made it come out.

When it did, Ben’s grip on me tightened momentarily before he rolled us again. He slid out while he did, but he ended full-out on top of me.

It was dark. When he came home and woke me to make love with me, he didn’t bother with a light.

Still, from moonlight and streetlight coming in through the windows, I could see the angles of his handsome face. I just couldn’t read them.

“Where’d that come from?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know,” I answered in a whisper.

“Where’d that come from, Frankie?” he repeated.

I slid my arms around him and held tight, feeling a curl of fear in my belly.

“I don’t know, honey.”

“It came from somewhere,” he noted.

“I know.”

“How do we get to that place so we can dig that out?”

“I don’t know.”

He went silent and I did too, holding tight to him, looking into his shadowed face.

Finally, he spoke, deep, easy, quiet, and sweet.

But what he said was scary.

“Okay, cara, I’ll be givin’ you a bunch of ‘I don’t knows.’ But then, for you, for me, for us, I’ll get to a place where I can’t give you them anymore. I cannot dig blind. You gotta show me where to put the shovel. And that’s gotta come from you, Frankie.”

“I know.”

And I did know. I just didn’t know how to find that place, and I didn’t want to get to the place where Ben got sick of me not knowing.

“So locate where you want me to put that shovel, baby,” he urged. “And while you’re searchin, do it knowin’ I’m at your side. That means, you need to talk, I’m here. You need to freak, I’m still here. Bottom line, I’m here.”

On the heels of his words, I felt the fear evaporate. I slid my hand up his back and into his hair, asking, “How’d you learn to be so awesome?”

“I got my eyes to the prize, honey.”

I slid my hand to his cheek, lifted up, and put my mouth to his.

Ben slanted his head and took it.

The kiss was deep, sweet, and easy.

When it was done, Ben shifted to kiss my neck and rolled off the bed. He went to the bathroom and came back to me.

Naked, he tangled us together and murmured, “Sleep.”

I cuddled closer and closed my eyes.

“’Night, Benny.”

“’Night, Frankie.”

I snuggled deep and fell asleep.

* * * * *

“This sucks,” I declared, standing in Benny’s arms outside the security lines at O’Hare.

“Yep,” Ben agreed.

“I wish they still let non-fliers through security so I could look out the window on the plane and see you standing inside, watching me. You could put your hand to the glass and I could put mine to the window, and we could have one final moment that happens half an hour from now, and in between we can share a coffee.”

Ben’s lips tipped slightly up before he noted, “We’re not in a romantic movie.”

“That makes it better since it’s real,” I returned.

Ben ignored me and continued, “And I wouldn’t do that shit.”

My brows shot up. “Even for me?”

“It’s corny. I’m not corny.”

“It’s a moment.”

“I got one final moment with you, it won’t be with my hand on glass. It’ll be with my tongue in your mouth and my hand on your ass.”

I glared, even as I felt a spasm between my legs.

Ben grinned and dipped his head closer, muttering, “Bet now you’re wet.”

I glared harder because he was right.