Chapter 43
Annalise
“You sure you’re okay?”
I took Bennett’s plate from in front of him. He’d barely eaten anything.
“Yeah. Just tired.” He rubbed at the back of his neck.
“Did you not like the chicken?”
“No, it was great. I…umm…ate with Lucas earlier. I wasn’t thinking. Sorry I didn’t finish when you went to all that work.”
I set our plates in the sink and prompted Bennett to pull his chair back from the table a little. Sitting on his lap, I stroked his hair. “It’s fine. I don’t care at all. You just seem…somewhere else tonight.”
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” I stood and offered him my hand. “Come on. You’re tired, and you’ve been rubbing at that neck since you got here. Let me get the knots out.”
Bennett took my hand, and I led him into my bedroom. He slipped off his shoes and sat down on the edge of the mattress.
I walked into the bathroom and grabbed the half empty bottle of baby oil I kept under the sink for my dry skin. “Take off your shirt, so I don’t get it oily.”
When watching me pour oil onto my hands didn’t invite any lewd comments, I knew whatever was bothering him was more than neck pain and being tired. I got up on my knees behind him and began to massage the baby oil into his skin. His chin dropped to his chest as I worked my fingers into the muscles.
“You weren’t kidding. You’re so tense. It’s like one giant knot back here.”
Bennett made a sound that was a cross between a groan of pleasure and pain as I dug my fingers deeper into his flesh.
“Feel good?”
He nodded.
After I’d loosened the muscles in his neck, I figured I’d loosen another muscle. So I reached around his chest and unbuckled his belt while kissing the back of his neck. Then I climbed off the bed and stood between his legs before dropping to my knees.
The sound of the zipper on Bennett’s jeans echoed through the room. Reaching into his pants, I cupped his cock, and he let out a loud, shaky breath. I’d thought it was the sound of his self-control slipping, but when I looked up, I found his eyes shut and his face twisted in pain.
“Bennett?” I pulled back. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes opened. “Nothing.”
“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. You look so upset.”
He stood and took a few steps away from me. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that. What’s going on with you?”
I waited quietly for him to say something, but he just continued to take deep, steady breaths, in and out. It seemed like he was trying to pull himself together, rein in his control.
Bennett ran a hand through his hair. “Fuuuuuck!” He sounded angry, but I could tell whatever it was, he was angry with himself, not me.
“Talk to me.”
He paced a few times and then sat back down on the edge of the bed, head in his hands and fingers pulling at his hair.
I knelt in front of him. “Bennett?”
I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. And then his shoulders started to shake. At first, I thought he was laughing—some sort of maniacal laughter that needed to come out because it was either that or break down and cry.
But then he looked up.
And I saw his eyes filled with unshed tears.
My heart stopped.
He wasn’t laughing; he was silently crying—doing everything in his power not to let it out.
“Oh God, Bennett. What’s wrong? What happened?”