I’D LIED.
I’d had to.
But the cruel untruth was stabbing into my chest and making me want to scream at the world and all of its merciless injustices. But more, I wanted to turn in Ben’s arms and give him what I didn’t have to give, for however long he would take it.
Except I couldn’t have Ben and keep my brother’s secret. It didn’t matter that I’d waited eight years to hear Ben say he wanted more. Marcus was my priority.
Biting my lip to keep from crying, I apologized for everything and nothing. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” His arm under me shifted. Then he let go of my hand and rolled to his back to turn off the lamp on the nightstand. “Get some sleep, Elyssia.” He didn’t put his arm back around me.
The light still on in the hall, the room fell into partial darkness, and I fought tears even harder. The weight of the painkiller was trying to pull me under, but I didn’t want to go to sleep with this awful tension between us. I couldn’t handle both him and Marcus mad at me.
The bed shifted slightly as Ben brought one of his legs up. “The painkiller should’ve knocked you out by now.”
“I don’t want to fight with you.” God, I didn’t want to fight with him.
“We’re not fighting.”
“You’re angry with me.” I could feel it in every one of his muscles.
Completely out of character for him, Ben sighed. “I’m not mad at you. I’m angry at the situation. I’m enraged at whoever did this to you. I’m frustrated that you don’t trust me, and I’m mad at myself for waiting so damn long.”
I stayed quiet for a moment, hoping he would elaborate on that last part, but he didn’t. “I can’t leave Marcus,” I quietly reminded him.
“You won’t leave him. There’s a difference, but I get it.” He slid his arm out from under me and got up. “Can I get you something? Food? Tea?”
I dared to look at him. “You have tea?”
“Earl Grey.” His hands went to his hips like he was daring me to question him further.
I accepted the challenge. “You drink Earl Grey?”
His unwavering blue-eyed stare held me prisoner. “I drink water.”
I couldn’t stop it. Two tears escaped and slid down my face because this wasn’t about tea. This was about a man who’d been waiting for me as much as I’d been waiting for him, but life was cruel and I was sister long before I’d become a woman who liked tea. “I’m sorry.”
His chest fell with an exhale, and his expression shut down. “Me too. Tea?”
My stomach in knots, I shook my head. He turned to walk out, and I panicked. “Ben?”
He paused but he didn’t turn around. “Get some sleep, Elyssia.” He pulled the door shut behind him.
I didn’t know how long I stared at the door, or how long I silently let the breaking of my heart crush me. I wanted Ben to come back, I wanted Marcus to be okay, and I wanted my mother. But none of that happened, and I fell into a fitful sleep until my hair was brushed from my forehead.
Two fingers landed on my wrist, and I opened my eyes.
A fitted T-shirt straining against his huge biceps, Ben adjusted the tubing around my ear. His presence had startled me, but it was the tattoos snaking up both of his arms that shocked me. Without thinking, I reached out and touched the monochromatic swirls of tribal ink that hadn’t been there last year.
His eyes immediately cut to mine.
“When did you get these?” My throat dry, my voice cracked.
He picked up the water bottle on the nightstand and handed it to me. “A while ago.”
I took the water. “I didn’t know.”
He dropped his gaze and adjusted the tubing pulling against my cheek. “Go back to sleep.”
“Are you staying?” I dared to ask.
Without a word, he moved to the chair across the room and sat. When he leaned his head back, I got the hint. I closed my eyes and somehow managed to fall back asleep.
I didn’t know what woke me a second time, but my gaze cut to the chair in the corner.
Sitting on the edge of the seat, his elbows on his knees, his palms on his forehead, Ben had his fingers spread out like claws in his hair. He inhaled deeply.
“Hi,” I whispered.
His head snapped up. “It’s time for your meds.” He stood and came to the nightstand. His stride precise and controlled, he didn’t move like it was the middle of the night as he reached for the bottle Talon had left.
“I’m fine.” I was sore, but my body wasn’t throbbing in pain with every heartbeat like two days ago. “I don’t need them.”
He set the bottle back on the nightstand. “You talk in your sleep.”
My breath caught in my throat and fear spread through my veins.
Slow, as if he didn’t want to, he brought his gaze up to meet mine. “I miss her too.”
Tears welled.
“Go back to sleep.” His expression pained, his eyes tired, he tipped his chin once and walked out.
Sometime in the early morning, he must’ve given up checking on me, or I’d gotten too tired to notice. The next time I opened my eyes, it was daylight. I had a horrible headache and my back was sore, but my breathing was almost normal. I sat up and the thick comforter pooled at my waist like a cloud. The sun was pouring in between the blinds, and when I stood to use the bathroom, I heard the muted beat.
Taking the oxygen tube off, but leaving the machine on because I didn’t know how to use it, I made my way to Ben’s bathroom. White, like the other one I’d seen off the hallway, this bathroom was just as modern but twice the size and boasted a giant sunken tub. I washed my face and brushed my teeth, then ran my fingers through my hair. Long, dark brown and thick, it pretty much looked how it always looked—wavy.
As I padded down the hall, the muted sound became louder. The door to the room where I saw his drum kit last night was closed. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was doing. Too shy to knock, I made my way to the couch and perched on the edge of the cushion. The buttery-soft leather was so smooth, I almost felt guilty sitting on it.
I knew I should call Marcus. Or at least check my phone for texts, but I didn’t know what I would say to him. Being in Ben’s house, I was ashamed to admit that the fear of what Marcus would do to himself was muted. In fact, everything felt muted. My sore body wasn’t as sore. The closed door to Ben’s practice space, the sounds from a busy downtown morning six stories below, the vague smell of coffee—nothing was overwhelmingly obvious. Except my pulse and every word Ben had said to me last night.
Inhaling, a full breath reached the corners of my bruised lungs, but the sharp pain was gone. Or muted. Like life from a rock star’s expensive condo. Muted and distant and not real.
Taking another deep breath because I could, I stood to go back to the bedroom to get my phone, and the drumming stopped. A second later, the door opened.
Shirtless, sweating, muscles rippling, so many muscles, Ben glanced at his open bedroom door, then his head whipped to the living room and his eyes unerringly met mine.
I held back a gasp, barely.
A cloud descended over Ben’s face, and he ducked back into his practice room. But before he disappeared, I got my second shock in as many seconds. A giant, continuous tattoo of a dragon covered his back from his waist to his shoulders.
My pulse thrumming, my heart racing, I stood stock-still. Ben Stark. Shirtless, with tattoos, so many tattoos. The high school boy I’d first met was gone, and in his place was a famous rock star I knew nothing about. My breathing, which had been better up until a second ago, turned shallow, and I was panting like I’d run five miles.
Before I could flee, Ben stalked back out of his practice room with a T-shirt on.
His eyes trained on me with razor-sharp focus, he closed the distance between us and stopped mere inches away. “Why are you out of bed?” It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.
“I, um….” His usual scent—woods, clean—mixed with musk and spice and exertion. Despite the anger radiating off him, his presence surrounded me with so much temptation, I wanted to reach for him. “I woke up,” I said lamely.
“Bed rest. Doctor’s orders.”
“I know, I just….” I sucked in a breath, fighting the worst case of nerves I’d ever had around him. “I feel better this morning.” When did he get that tattoo on his back? Had other women put their hands on him, traced the lines, touched the…. I shook my head.
“What?” he demanded, misreading the shake of my head.
I dropped my gaze to my feet. “Nothing.”
“Back to bed. I’ll bring you breakfast.” He turned toward the kitchen.
I couldn’t stop myself. I looked up at his clothed back. “You don’t have to do that.” I barely got the last word out before he spun.
His expression deadly serious, he leveled me with a single look. “Need help?”
I didn’t know if it was Ben’s expression, or his tone, or Marcus, or just everything all at once, but suddenly, I was angry. Words flew out before I could check them. “I didn’t ask you to bring me here, or take care of me, and I definitely didn’t ask you to open the door you opened last night. You don’t get to be mad or blame me for your choices.”
His nostrils flared with an inhale. “You want to talk about choices?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Let’s start with the one you’re making to protect the asshole who did this to you.”
Ashamed, indignant, I lashed out. “I don’t know who it was!” It wasn’t a complete lie. I didn’t know who my brother had turned into.
“You’re lying,” he accused, biting out each word. “It’s written all over your face.”
“If you know me so well, then you should know what else is written all over my face. Like confusion, or wondering why the hell all of a sudden you care so damn much about me or my life.”
His face twisted and he roared, “I’ve always cared about you!”
It was instant. Tears welled, because Ben had never yelled at me.
“Goddamn it.” He took a step toward me and dropped his voice. “I’m sorry I yelled.”
My hand shot up. “Forget I said anything.” Blinking back tears, needing to leave, needing to not feel this tension between us, needing a whole new life, I turned.
“Wait,” he barked.
I made it two paces.
His breath landed on my neck and his body heat crawled up my back a second before he grasped my arm. “Jesus, I want to touch you so damn bad, but I don’t even know where I can.”
“Ben.” I didn’t know if I was begging him to hold me, or pleading with him not to.
“Answer one question,” he demanded, sweeping my hair across my back.
I shivered, and a wave of desire shot through my veins, settling in my core. “What?”
His fingers glanced across my neck where it met my spine, then he pressed into my tense muscles and rubbed in a slow circle. “If circumstances were different, would you have given me a different answer last night?”
Oh God.
Despite the soreness still taking up residence in my body, his massaging hands felt so good. I fought a moan and tried to dodge his question. “I’m not sure what you’re asking. There are no other circumstances.”
His hand cupped the back of my neck. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I said I want more. Answer the question, Elyssia.”
I’d seen Ben play drums. I’d watched his hands move with incredible speed and precision. I’d seen him work through katas like he was born to master martial arts. I’d been at Seven-oh-One while he’d quietly ignored women’s advances, and I’d witnessed him respectfully defer to my mother’s authority, even while she was in hospice. But I’d never really understood how incredibly alpha Ben was until this very moment.
His command, his very presence, the way he controlled the tone of his voice and touch of his hands to elicit a response out of me without anger, but with absolute authority, was both disarming and so, so tempting to give in to. Except he didn’t make it feel like I was giving in. He made it seem natural and safe, and I wanted to give him every answer in the world. But nothing between us was as simple as a single question.
“There’s more than my bruises between us.” I didn’t want to say I didn’t trust him. I trusted Ben with my life. But not with my heart.
As if reading my thoughts, he brought it up. “Put aside the band and take your brother out of the equation, then answer.”
“I can’t separate reality from truth.”
“Answer,” he demanded, turning me to face him.
“Yes,” I breathed.
His sharp inhale made gooseflesh race across my skin. “Elyssia,” he whispered, a split second before his lips landed on mine.
Soft and gentle, he kissed me. It was nothing like our first kiss. He didn’t slam his body into me and sink his hands into my hair. He didn’t growl or thrust his hips. He tenderly, sweetly slid his tongue into my mouth and kissed me with reverence.
An ache built between my legs that was only matched by the pain in my chest for something I didn’t know how to have. I wanted Ben. I wanted him so bad, but I couldn’t choose him over my brother. I couldn’t choose my pleasure over the only family I had left. And I would be lying if I said the years of Marcus’s warnings about rock stars and their lifestyle didn’t plague the back of my mind. Marcus had sworn Ben would never respect me, not once he was on the road.
But the man kissing me right now, careful and gentle, but utterly commanding, he was respecting me. His palm cupping my face, angling me into his kiss, he stroked through my mouth with restraint that told me he cared for me. Deeply.
I reached for him out of instinct, out of need, but the second my hands wrapped around the back of his neck, he ended the kiss with a sharp inhale.
The memory of his reaction from our first kiss came roaring back, and rejection slapped me in the face.
I dropped my arms.