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“I did. I’m sorry.”
“You were my best friend, and you knew I’d loved you since we were kids. You broke my heart.”
I nod against his chest, my cheek brushing over the soft fabric of his shirt. He shifts underneath me, and I think he’s going to put me back on my feet and walk away. I tighten my arms around his waist like a baby monkey. I’m not letting go without a fight and say the only thing I can think of to make him stay where he is.
“I love you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I turn and straddle his lap, put my arms around his neck. “It was a nightmare after you left. You have no idea.”
Ben won’t meet my eyes, keeps his gaze fixed firmly on some spot on the opposite riverbank, but his hands have drifted to my hips, like he wants to keep me where I am. I take that as a good sign and keep talking.
“I know it was a nightmare for you being there, but after you quit and those photos came out, management was going batshit. They were all over my ass about the band’s image and damage control and what the fuck do we do about this. Bands go down because of shit like this. We’ve invested so much in you. Yada, yada, yada. I needed them off my back, so I told them what they wanted to hear. And then they made me say it to TMZ.” I take his face in my hands and make him look me in the eye. “That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done because I knew it was going to hurt you.” I lean forward, touch our foreheads together, grateful when he doesn’t pull away from me. “Actually, no, that’s wrong. The hardest thing I’ve ever done is stay away from you because I couldn’t give you the answers you deserved, the words I owe you.”
“You’ve had five years, Dill,” he whispers, his breath a sweet caress over my lips.
“I know, and I’ve felt like a fucking piece of shit for every day of those five years because I do love you. I always have. You’ve got to believe me.”
I’ve closed my eyes because I can’t bear to look at Ben and see that he thinks I’m worse than the scum at the bottom of a punk bottle of wine.
“Dillon.” Ben says it like a prayer, like something being wrung out of him from deep inside. He tips his head to the side, but instead of pulling away, he kisses me. Sweet. Gentle. And over too soon. “I do,” he says. “I do believe you. And I love you, too.”
And then we’re kissing for real, falling into each other like we’ve been doing this all our lives. I’m so fucking hard, my head spins, and I groan as Ben explores my mouth with his tongue, my body with his hands while I grind against him. He pulls my shirt out of my waistband, his hands going immediately to the now bare skin of my back, and his touch is like fire. I arch my back as he draws his fingers up my spine. The movement pulls my mouth away from his but exposes my throat. Ben doesn’t waste any time before he latches on and moans. It’s the sound of reprieve, of resurrection, of my world righting itself and starting to turn again.
“Oh, God, I’ve missed you,” I sob, and Ben hums in agreement against my neck.
His hands are on my shoulders, and he’s pulling on me, trying to get our hips to align, but the way we’re sitting won’t let us get the contact we need. With a growl of frustration, he pulls me tight and stands up. I loop my legs around his waist as he walks us back toward the house, then presses me against the wall, pinning me there with the weight of his body.
Once his hands are free, he pulls my shirt open, pushes it out of his way and runs his thumbs over my nipples. I cry out. I’m hard and aching everywhere. There isn’t a single place on my body that isn’t alive with want and need, and I’m shamelessly thrusting my hips against him. I need my cock free. I need his hands on me. I need to feel him.
“You want me, Dill?” he whispers in my ear.
“Yes!” My voice is little more than a plea. “Please, Ben.”
He leans back a little, and I wrap my legs tighter around his hips, lock my ankles behind them, as he undoes the button on my jeans, draws the zipper down. I’m not wearing anything underneath, and he curses under his breath as he slips his hand inside and draws me out.
“Fuck. I need to feel you too, but I don’t want to stop touching you.”
I drop my hands to his waist, make short work of getting him out. He’s hard and leaking, and the feel of him in my hands, dear Lord, I have never felt anything half as good in my life. At least not until Ben bats my hand away and brings our cocks into contact. I am so far gone, all I can do is groan as he wraps his big, rough hand around us and starts to jerk us off together.
“Oh, jeez. Oh, God. More.” I’m begging, and I don’t care. I want this to last forever, and I want to come. I want to feel this incredible tension that’s building in my body, and I want the release.
“Oh, shit, Dill, I’m gonna…” Ben pants into my ear, and then he’s spilling over my cock, hot and slick, and it pushes me over the edge with him. We’re gasping and groaning, our hips moving together, then slowing, until we’re completely spent.
Ben crushes me against the wall as he lets go of our cocks and collapses against my chest, breathing hard. Our hearts are aligned, beating so hard it’s like they’re joined, as we both suck in air. Once he’s caught his breath, Ben lifts his head, his eyes searching mine, and I bring our lips together. Unlike before, these kisses are slow, sweet, sealing a promise between us.
I don’t know how long we’re standing there, but Ben’s phone vibrates from the ground. It must have fallen out of his pocket while we were…otherwise engaged. He takes a moment to readjust his clothes, wincing at the cooling mess on his belly as he tucks his shirt back into his pants. As I start to do the same, he puts a hand on my chest, then goes down on his knees. He licks up everything on my skin, even swipes the tip of his tongue across my slit to get the last bit of cum that’s lingering there. Then he grabs his phone, thumbs the screen to life, and frowns at what he sees.
“Everything okay?” I ask as I do up my shirt and pull my pants back up.
“Yeah. Just got a meeting in thirty minutes.” He runs his hand across his stomach, then grins at me. “Kind of lost track of time.” He searches my face again. “But I got to get back to work. You going to stick around?”
The hurt I feel at his comment feels like an ice pick in my heart, and I start to protest, ask him how he could think I wouldn’t be, but then realize he’s got every reason to wonder. “I’ll be around. I hear there’s some good wine at this place, and I wouldn’t want to miss that.”
A frown crosses Ben’s face, but it passes quickly and is replaced by a smile. “Good. You can tell them you’re my special guest. That way they’ll give you the good stuff from under the counter.” He grins and takes my hand.
We walk back toward the winery buildings, and I ask Ben how he came to own this place, and he tells me it was kind of a fluke investment, a wild card suggestion from his financial advisor, but it gave him a place to go after all the shit happened and something to concentrate on. Once he gets going talking about his vines and what he wants to do, I don’t have to ask any more questions, just watch him and feel the passion he has for this land and what he’s doing. It’s awesome to see him happy again, but it starts to make me feel twitchy, like my skin’s too tight.
