Secret Light (12 page)

to explore the sleeping man beside him. Rafe wore plaid pajamas, an oddly festive red

and green holiday tartan that seemed utterly incompatible with his normal, natty

business suit and silk-tie attire. He’d buttoned it around the sling. The pale skin of his

shoulder showed, freckled and forlorn. There were no bruises to Rafe’s face from the

attack, but from what Ben had heard, they bloomed all over his body.

Pure and primal rage filled Ben. He was coldly determined that no one was going

to get another shot at Rafe. LAPD’s detectives were working the case, but little would

come of their efforts. They were currently stumped by such a random-seeming attack.

If Rafe had any enemies, the detectives would find them. But for such a private

man, it must be unbearable to be under that kind of scrutiny.

At last the light reached Rafe where he lay on the bed, still sleeping. Its rays

burnished his blond hair to a sparkling, radiant gold. The color found its echo on the

tips of Rafe’s long eyelashes. In sleep, he still looked flushed, but on his nose and

forehead, freckles floated over pale creamy skin. His beard was coming in, coppery and

more plentiful than Ben imagined it would. A brush of Ben’s knuckles confirmed it was

softer and finer than his own sandpapery jaw.

Rafe’s eyes fluttered open. His chest rose on a deep breath and then fell with a sigh.

Ben counted the seconds until Rafe became aware he wasn’t alone.

Another deep breath followed by a smile.

That was good, that smile.

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Ben looked back at him, and for the space of a few breaths they gazed at each other.

“Hello,” Rafe murmured.

“Hello yourself.”

“I hardly know—”

Ben leaned forward and pressed his lips to Rafe’s before he could say more. First

contact electrified him. Rafe’s touch was hesitant but as sensual and pliant as Ben

remembered. There was no fluke here; he and Rafe had something together. Warmth

filled him as his body resonated to the welcome in Rafe’s eyes.

Ben exerted gentle pressure, and with something like surprise, Rafe opened to him,

lips parting, his good hand coming up to caress the side of Ben’s cheek. Rafe’s heart

thudded against the palm of Ben’s hand, strong and sure, and he caught a quick breath

before rising on one arm to deepen the contact.

Ben insinuated his leg over Rafe’s thigh. Knees bumped as he settled half on and

half off Rafe’s long, lean body. Ben throbbed with need, so much that his hands shook,

enough to shorten each breath. His heart hammered, causing his blood to drown out all

ambient noise—everything except the sweet sighs and moans Rafe gave him.

Rafe kissed him back and clung, allowing him to touch and taste, to rub their

scratchy cheeks together. Ben dotted kisses along the fine edge of Rafe’s jaw, stopping

for a nip or a lick as he traveled toward the skin beneath Rafe’s ear, down his neck,

brushing away the flannel fabric collar of his PJ top until he found skin he thought

might never have been kissed by anyone, least of all a man, least of all someone like

him—someone who was prepared to take his time and give Rafe everything he had to

give.

Rafe writhed beneath him, dragging air into his lungs. When Ben’s hand traveled

lower, he let out a moan that raised gooseflesh on Ben’s arms. Ben lifted his head at

that, peering down at Rafe’s flushed face. Rafe appeared dazed, his jaw slack, his pupils

dark with desire.

“All right?”

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“Yes.” Barely above a whisper.

Ben slipped his hand beneath Rafe, then let it slide down Rafe’s ass to his leg to lift

his knee. He ground against the meat of Rafe’s thigh while Rafe’s cock pulsed, damp

and insistent, against his hip.

“Oh…
Ben
.” Rafe breathed against his skin. Sweat began to trickle between Ben’s

shoulder blades. He lifted himself and pulled his T-shirt off over his head. When he

would have lowered himself, Rafe’s hand on his chest stopped him.

Rafe’s eyes revealed passion, confusion, and not a little fear. Ben gave him time to

look his fill. Rafe reached out and drew his hand along Ben’s chest, causing all his

muscles to tingle and tighten. He shuddered beneath Rafe’s fingers, ready to grind hard

and come, but not willing to push Rafe too far, too fast.

Ben lowered himself onto Rafe but shifted so he could lay his hand flat on Rafe’s

abdomen, just above the waistband of his pajama pants. Rafe sucked in a deep breath.

Ben hesitated. If he didn’t do things exactly right—if he went too fast or did

anything Rafe might consider odd—he could scare the man away.

“Rafe? Can you tell me”—Christ, how did he put this?—“if I touch you, would that

be all right?”

Rafe nodded, his hand still exploring the hair on Ben chest. “Anything you do will

be all right.”

“If I hurt you or embarrass you, you’ll tell me?”

“Of course. I’d offer you the same reassurances, but I don’t know what to do.”

“Touch me.” Ben took Rafe’s hand and laid it low on his belly, inches away from his

pulsing cock. “Do anything you like. Ask me anything you want to know.”

“Do you”—Rafe licked his lips—“have a lot of experience?”

Ben blushed. “I’d say a fair amount.”

Rafe looked up at the ceiling. “You must think I’m an idiot.”

“Nah.” But Ben liked the way he said the word, with a long
o
like id-yoht.

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“Really. I’m
old
and such a—”

“You’re a beautiful man who doesn’t let people in. Tell me I’m wrong about you.

You haven’t been with girls either, have you?”

“No,” Rafe admitted quietly.

“You charm everyone and go home alone? That’s…”

“It’s not my nature to be…intimate.”

“No?” Ben’s hand crept beneath the drawstring waistband of Rafe’s pajamas and

inched its way downward. “Intimacy comes from trust. Do you trust me?”

Rafe’s breath quickened. He allowed Ben to inch his hand down beneath the fabric

until it hovered over Rafe’s cock. Moist heat radiated from Rafe’s skin. Ben paused

there, worried that he was moving too fast.

“Do you trust me, Rafe?”

Rafe nodded, and Ben lowered his hand to Rafe’s abdomen and closed it over a

cock that felt long and slim, every bit as elegant as the man himself.

The caress expressed itself in Rafe’s eyes, first with shock, then undiluted passion.

Inky black pupils eclipsed his blue irises, and hot, panting breaths escaped him. His

head tilted back, exposing the white column of his throat. Ben fastened his mouth there,

not sucking, not marking—just tasting the sweet, salty flavor of Rafe’s skin.

“Uuh.” Rafe turned his head.

“No?”

“Oh,
nein
, no. Please…
bitte
. Don’t stop. That feels…”

Ben smiled and rubbed his lips into the bristly skin of Rafe’s neck. “Okay?”

“Yes.
Oh Gott
.” Rafe shifted, hips jerking into Ben’s touch.

Ben continued to caress Rafe’s cock, learning the feel of it, mapping and

memorizing each detail, as he let his fingers glide over the veiny texture of the

underside and the slick smooth head. He explored Rafe’s balls, caressing each one. He

slid a knowing finger behind them, stroking the skin of Rafe’s perineum gently but

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briefly for this first time—just a tiny preview of pleasure to come, he thought,

concentrating on the cock in his hand and the man in his arms. He slid his hand back up

Rafe’s shaft and gave his attention to the head, running his fingers over the slit,

gathering the moisture there to lubricate his movements.

Ben watched Rafe carefully as he pleasured him. He studied Rafe’s handsome face

as each minute brush of fingertips made him lose himself a little more. When at last he

wrapped his hand around Rafe’s cock and pulled, with each long stroke, each tightly

gripped slide up and down, Rafe gasped and gave in, lifting his hips, abandoning all

pretense, burying his face in Ben shoulder as he let himself go.

“Uuh,
ja, ja, ja
.” Rafe’s body tightened, and Ben’s hand grew warm and sticky when

Rafe spent. “
Jesus
.”

Ben sought Rafe’s mouth, and they clung and kissed, Rafe shuddered in his arms,

practically devouring him, desperate and needy. Ben nearly came from nothing more

than the friction of Rafe trembling against him.

For a few seconds after Rafe found release, Ben couldn’t help grinning with

masculine pride. “Like that?”

Rafe let his head fall back onto the pillow and covered his face with his good hand.

“You have to ask?”

Ben discreetly wiped Rafe’s spend onto his own undershirt. He took Rafe’s hand

and kissed it, then his lips. “There’s no shyness here between us, all right?”

Blue eyes met his. The man had the best damn smile. “All right.”

“I want to—” Rafe broke off. “I want to do something for you, but I’m awkward

with my left hand.” He spread his hand over Ben’s cock, which still throbbed with

need. “I would probably put your eye out.”

“I think somebody”—Ben turned so he could wrap his right hand around Rafe’s left

and press it into his cock—“needs an anatomy lesson.”

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It was awkward. Their hands were backward and in the wrong position to stroke

him off, so he let go of Rafe’s hand and pulled his own cock while Rafe had to content

himself with exploring the surrounding skin, tickling his balls, running his fingers

through the crisp bush of hair at Ben’s groin.

“Almost there,” Ben bit out, groaning when the first electric tingles slid outward

from his balls, signaling that his orgasm was imminent. “
Christ
.”

That was
it
, right there. The best part, when he knew he was going to come and

there was nothing he could do to stop it. He lost himself inside the madness of it, like he

was soaring off a cliff or over a waterfall. He gave in to the delirium of a great rush,

closing his eyes. Rafe’s lips closed down on his, sealing them together, making them

one in that moment of complete surrender.

“Beautiful,” Rafe whispered a minute or so later. Something shiny had reached his

eyes, like hope or the best part of kindness. High regard. Ben didn’t dare to imagine it

was more than that.

Yet.

But he had hopes…

In the cool blue glow of that December dawn, Rafe showed himself to be the

complete opposite of the distant, sophisticated man he allowed the world to see. This

Rafe had a boyish sweetness, an innocence that pulled at Ben’s heart like grappling

hooks. He ached with emotion—strong, fine feelings for Rafe he couldn’t deny.

Rafe had drawn him in from the very first.

“So. Which one are you? The bon vivant in the Borsalino hat? Or the boy with the

cute dog who just came in my arms?”

Inexplicably, the light behind his eyes died. “Neither.”

“What?” Ben frowned into the silence that followed.

Eventually, Rafe spoke. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m…my arm hurts.”

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“Of course it does. I’m an idiot.” Ben got out of bed in no time, heading for the

bathroom and some kind of pain reliever.

He returned with more water and gave the tablets to Rafe. “Here. Take these. I’ll get

a towel and clean myself up, all right?”

Rafe nodded, hiding his face behind the glass.

“I meant every word I said. No pressure. If this isn’t—”

“I’m all right, Ben. Really. Just tired and sore. Could you close the door behind

you?”

“Sure.” Ben picked a lightly dozing Mooki up from where she lay in her basket.

“I’m going to take Mooki outside, then see if she wants something to eat. I’ll be back

with breakfast in an hour or so. Would that be okay?”

“You’re such a good man.” At that, Rafe pulled the covers up and shifted so his

back was turned.

Ben closed the door between them, knowing full well Rafe had closed another kind

of door to shut him out.

After Ben left, Rafe pulled the covers carefully around himself. His body still

tingled with desire, and he fought the urge to press his hand to his cock again. Being

with Ben was…indescribable. A hand that wasn’t his own—cradling his manhood and

pleasuring him.
A man’s hand—a man’s strong, sure touch
. So illicit, yet so impossibly

good.

He’d given himself to the sheer hedonistic pleasure of letting go, of letting someone

else take the lead, and it had been everything he’d imagined. Better than he’d believed

it could be. Just that, a slick stroke, a gentle caress, and he’d been powerless to

remember the admonition of his parents—the dire, desperate warning they’d given him