Page 155 of The Love Operation

Chapter 40

Hand Me a Slice of That Soul Bread, Will Ya?

“I think you should take me home,” I say, even though my eyes are saying the opposite.

“I don’t want to take you home.” His voice is gravel draped in silk.

“I don’t want you to either,” I admit. “Which is exactly why you should.”

“You could stay here tonight,” he says. “Just rest. The guest room’s downstairs. I’ll be up. I won’t bother you. I promise.”

And I believe him. I believe he’d try.

But I also know myself.

“We’ve been honest tonight,” I say. “So in that spirit—thank you for offering. I believe your intent is honorable. But mine . . .” I exhale. “Mine isn’t.”

His left brow lifts slightly.

“If I stay, there is zero chance I’ll sleep. Not with you upstairs. Not in this house.” I swallow. “You might be able to leave me alone—but I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you.”

He exhales sharply, nostrils flaring just enough for me to notice. His Adam’s apple jumps as he swallows.

“And I need to stay away from you right now,” I add. “This is all new. And I’m not on solid ground yet.”

I can’t bring myself to say Isaac’s name, but I need to figure that part of my life out. And if I stay—I hurt him.

Benedict nods, like he already knew that. Then he leans forward slightly. “Can I be just as honest?”

I should say no simply because of the look in his eyes. But I nod.

His gaze doesn’t flinch. “I want to be the man who walks away right now,” he says, his voice sensual and devastating. “The one who says good night, climbs the stairs, and sleeps like nothing’s changed. Like I don’t want you in every way it’s possible to want someone.”

My mouth goes dry. Actually, every drop of moisture reroutes, straight to my lower half.

“But if you stay”—he steps in, not touching, just closing the space between us until I can feel him in the air itself—“I won’t sleep. I’ll lie awake, knowing you’re just downstairs. And every part of me will ache not to come find you.” His voice softens, still low, but earnest. “But I want you to choose what’s best for you. I know you need time and that now isn’t it.”

In the pause that follows, I wonder what my options are. What all do I have to choose from? What do I let go? What do I embrace?

“But before I take you anywhere,” he adds, softer now, “I need to be clear. No room for misinterpretation.”

I brace for it.

“Back then, I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted. But I’m not that lost boy anymore. I am a man who knows his worth. And I know what I want.”

An inch, maybe two—that’s how much he moves toward me, but it’s enough to send my internal circuitry on a frenetic loop, heating my body from neck to ankles until I’m humming with electric, ancient desire.

I know he’s going to touch me. Everything in his face says so. And I don’t think I could stop him if I tried.

“Do you know . . . what it is that I want?” he whispers.

His breath skims my cheek, and my knees nearly give out.

He still hasn’t touched me, but I’m held in place by the gravity between us. I try to speak, but all I manage is a single raised brow.

The left side of his mouth rises enough to send a ripple through me.

When he leans in, I close my eyes. In any other moment, I might be embarrassed by how badly I want him to kiss me.