Breaking All the Rules (12 page)

              “But I ruined it,” She tilted her head and to his surprise, stood on her toes as to press a soft kiss on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Benson.”

              He wanted to retort with a sarcastic comment, but he found himself speechless. Her sincerity pierced his heart. To the rest of the world, Mia Barnes could be a confident and hard sexpot music industry guru. To him, she was much more. He saw her beyond that shell. His precious Mia was so much more than what was on the surface. She was wounded and scared, but still held her incredible softness and kindness. She wasn’t much unlike him; though Benson wasn’t sure what was under his shell was nearly as nice as hers.

              She opened a closet door and pulled out a white hand towel. She turned the water on; testing it with her hand to ensure it was warm, before soaking the towel and gently cleaning the blood off his shoulder. She folded a tiny corner in the rag and moved to wipe his semi-hard cock and thighs. Benson questioned his uncertainty and uncomfortableness with the situation. It was too caring, too loving. Yet, he had done the same for her nights before.

              As if she understood what he was thinking, Mia’s eyes drifted up to him and she smiled, “Thank you for cleaning me up the other night. Now we’re even.”

              She smoothly dropped the towel into white wicker hamper in the room before padding out into the studio. Benson leaned against the doorframe as he watched her stride across the beautifully decorated and well organized apartment, tidying the small mess the two had made. He was glad she hadn’t tried to put any clothes on- he would have stopped her. He liked seeing her bare as she drifted. Before he knew it, she was back in front of him, her expression one he could not read.

              “So, you’re leaving, right?”

              Benson swallowed to hide the deflating flash of hurt that swept over him. He tightened his jaw and began putting his clothes back on without saying a word.
So much for being domestic and comfortable.
Mia swore and grabbed her arm, trying to tug him closer. He shrugged her off and pulled up his pants.

              “Benson, stop,” Her voice wavered.

              “Do you or don’t you want me to leave?” He bit, making a grand hand gesture.

              “I want you to stay, dammit, but you always go so I figured you would.”

              “I’m not always the one that goes. You walk away too, precious.”

              She looked at him, fighting for words, then turned and stalked over to a dark dresser. She slipped on a green lace thong that made his tired cock stir. Her bottom was still bright red, and Benson could spot prickling purple marks forming on her hips from where he had held her tightly. She unfolded a fitted black t-shirt and smoothed it over her body, then brushed past him on her way to the kitchen as if he weren’t even there.

              “Are you hungry?” She asked, pulling something out of a cupboard, ignoring their previous conversation.

              For you
. Mia had a way to make him constantly crave her body. He wasn’t sure if she was parading around in a thong and fitting black shirt to tease him, but he was sure how amazing she looked.

              She turned and put a hand on her hip, “Look, I’m sorry I was so bitchy just now. I told you, I’m used to you just taking and taking. I assumed-”

              “I don’t want to use you, Mia,” Benson took his half buttoned dress shirt off and dropped it on the chair.

              “You don’t know what you want and either do I.”

              She knew exactly what she wanted, but she wasn’t going to admit to him so readily that her heart constantly ached for him or that the slightest mention of his name sent a tickle of butterflies to her stomach.

              “I want you, precious,” Benson had walked into the kitchen area. He kissed her- a soft but loving peck- before playing with the hair on her shoulder. “I told you, I’m not good at this.”

              “I don’t know what ‘this’ is, Benson. I don’t even know if we’re on the same page. So, again, are you hungry?”

              “Dammit, Mia.”

              “What do you want me to say?” She set the box of noodles down and crossed her arms, leaning against the counter. “You are one of the most confusing and infuriating people I’ve ever met. You don’t know what you want, obviously, and what I want is definitely not going to happen. So let’s either just pretend and play nice or you can go.”

              “How do you know what you want isn’t going to happen?” Benson asked curiously.

              “Benson Ward doesn’t
do
romance,” Mia laughed bitterly.

              He tilted his head back and his mouth opened slightly before closing. He looked like a fish. Mia was right; Benson didn’t know what he wanted. He knew he wanted Mia. He wanted Mia any way he could have her. He knew she was part of him in ways he didn’t understand. But did he want romance? He wanted to be around her every second he could. Until that asshole Barker ruined their evening, he was enjoying his time with Mia at La Bocco. It was comfortable and exciting in ways he wasn’t used to. Was that romance? Benson stifled a laugh. Like he’d know romance. His parents had the most loveless marriage imaginable, fueled by blatant affairs and gallons of alcohol. If that was romance, Benson would rather stick with meaningless sex and lonely nights.

              Mia rolled her eyes at the stoic man beside her. She dipped past him and grabbed a pot from a cabinet. She filled it with water and added the fettuccine noodles. She waved Benson to the side so she had access to the fridge. Mindlessly, he obeyed. She pulled out a bushel of spinach and a carton of sliced mushrooms. Mia had just put the two ingredients in the water when Benson spoke.

              “I took you on a date, didn’t I?”

              She opened a tall cabinet next to the fridge where her trashcan was hidden, tossing her scraps. She tried to hide her surprise, but when she turned to look at him, her face was still soft and searching.

              “You thought that was a date?”

              “I do now.”

              Her lips pressed, then she shook her head. She didn’t want to know. A tiny smile tugged at her lips. A smug look nestled on Benson’s face. He was pleased by her reaction. He was pleased when she was anything but angry and fuming. He tilted her head back and kissed her gently. Mia liked aggressive, sexual Benson. She really liked that Benson. But she also liked soft Benson. He was cautious, not probing too deep or pressing too hard. When he drew away, he gave a quick peck for good measure.
Benson Ward doesn’t do romance, my ass.

              “I told you, I don’t know what I’m doing,” He admitted. “And I’m obviously not good at… romance… but I want to be with you, and if that means I have the pleasure of showing you off around town, then I will happily
do
romance.” A dark grin crossed his face. “Then I’ll bring you back here and
do
you.”

              Mia snorted, “You’re a poet.”

              “Don’t tell anyone,” Benson winked. He peeked over Mia’s shoulder. “Am I welcome for dinner, then?”

              “I would like that.”

              Benson smiled and a weird sensation grew in his stomach, “I would like that too.”

              He took a seat at the counter and watched her, his smile not wavering. She pulled two wine glasses from the cabinet above the island and poured generous helpings of the only wine she had, a chardonnay. They chatted and laughed while their easy dinner cooked. He found something utterly erotic about the way she looked in the kitchen wearing only a thong and an old tee. Benson listened attentively as Mia rambled about missing work. He held his smile back when she complained about Tyler’s bad attitude. And when she moaned slightly while talking about how nice her spa visit was, Benson was reminded of how much he wanted to have her naked body bouncing over her as she demanded an orgasm. Benson offered little to the conversation, just wanting to listen to her voice and watch the way her mouth moved.

              While Mia plated the pasta dish, she warned Benson it wouldn’t be as good as what they served at his restaurants. He didn’t care. She had made it for him, and he had never had a woman cook him dinner. It could’ve tasted like rubber and he would’ve choked it down. Luckily, it was delicious and he had no trouble finishing his meal. They left their plates on the counter and retreated to the couch. Mia curled next to him, nestling her head into the crook of his arm. He rubbed small circles on her shoulder as she flipped through the channels.

              “I’m hopelessly addicted to crime shows,” Mia admitted, settling on a rerun of Law and Order: SVU. “Is this okay?”

              “Better than CSI.”

              “I like CSI.”

              “Ah. I guess I like CSI then, too,” He flashed a cheesy smile.

              “Do you… watch TV?” Mia asked sheepishly. “I mean, do you have time?”

              “What do you think I do in my spare time?” Benson’s eyebrows arched in a devilish expression.

              She blushed, “I just thought you… I dunno, worked all time and then partied.”

              “Party, right,” Benson snorted. “I haven’t partied since college. I’ll go to lounges-”

              “- strip clubs, you mean.”

              He looked at her with hard eyes, “Sometimes. Sometimes I go to lounges. I go to a lot of events and parties, but they’re not clubs. Boring black tie stuff. Whenever I’m at home I like to relax.”

              Mia found herself asking a question she didn’t want to know the answer to, “Do you sleep with a lot of women?”

              Benson strained, his gaze even more damning, “Sometimes.”

              She shifted, pulling herself away from him, “What does that mean?”

              He rubbed his forehead, “I don’t know if I’d call it sleeping with them, Mia. What do you want me to tell you?”

              “The truth.”

              “How many men do you sleep with in a month?” He pressed back, his blood already boiling.

              “None of your business.”

              “Have you slept with Tyler, Mia? Does he make you come like I do?”

              She resisted the urge to slap him, “How many times do I have to tell you I haven’t fucked Tyler? Jesus, Benson.” She stood up, but Benson tugged her back down onto his lap. “Stop. Just… go home.”

              “You stop, Mia,” He growled into her ear. “I haven’t touched anyone since I first saw you. I can’t get hard unless I think about you.”

              “I’m sure it’s been a long week for you, then.”

              She tried not to shutter when he kissed her neck, “You think I’m some sex addicted maniac?”

              “I don’t know what you are.”

              “I typically am with a woman once or twice a week, but we don’t always have sex and it’s not always a different woman. Is that what you want to hear?”

              Her eyes stung and she felt her words jam in her throat. All she could do was release a simple, “No.”

              “I don’t want to talk about anyone else but us. I don’t want you thinking about anyone but me. You’re mine, precious. Don’t push me away.” His words made her skin crawl in the most sensual way. “The past few days, I haven’t been able to make myself come because I’m not you. Do you know how maddening it is that you do this to me, Mia? You make me-”

              She cut him off with a kiss. Unlike Benson’s cautious kisses, Mia’s was hard. She grabbed the sides of his face and sunk into him, letting his tongue sweep across her lips and into her eagerly awaiting mouth. His cock was hard under her, straining against his pants. His hands cupped her ass and he moaned into her mouth, unnerved by the soft skin.

              “You’ll be the death of me, Mia Barnes,” His throaty voice carved into her skin with a thousand tiny daggers.

              She responded with a harder kiss and a slight grind of her body against his stiff member, eliciting another deep groan. Benson was preparing to lift her up and carry her to her bed when Mia’s phone began to ring on the coffee table. They ignored it, far too engrossed in their own actions on the couch. After the tune stopped, there was a brief pause before it began again. A string of profanities left Mia’s lips and she leaned backwards in a brilliant display of flexibility that was extremely arousing. She grabbed her phone and answered it without looking, nearly yelling at the glass screen. Unable to kiss her mouth, Benson lifted her shirt and kissed her swelling breasts.

              “Hey, sis.”

              She froze and ushered Benson to stop, climbing off of him, “What do you want, Eddie?”

              Benson would have been jealous if he didn’t know who Eddie was. Mia had never shared the information, but he learned of her younger brother Edmund when he searched her days before. He was a cop in Connecticut, and from the sound of it, Mia didn’t want to talk to him.

              “What’s up?”

              She gave a slight laugh, “We haven’t talked in seven months. You want me to fill in every detail?”