Break the Rules (Rough Love Book 7) Page 3

  “Yes. I absolutely understand.”

  “I don’t want you to feel like you’ve disappointed me. Not today, not ever.”

  “I won’t,” Ben promises; but he’s really glad Xander has clarified it again. Reminded him. “I get it. The pain is to show me that you love me,” he adds. And he wants to explain how very okay that is, because Xander looks agonized for a second, like he’s about to start tearing out his own heart or something, but Ben finds that he can’t say anything sensible—he’s too inarticulate. “Xander, can I…I mean, I want to kiss you.”

  They both look around the lobby. It’s quiet, and there’s a conveniently leafy plant blocking them from view of most of the room. It’s not that they care if they’re seen; it’s just that this moment between them is utterly private. Theirs alone. Xander grabs him after only a moment’s hesitation, and they kiss. Ben mouths his way down Xander’s neck and dares to suck the skin briefly between his teeth, before Xander pushes him back.

  “Hey! Vampire. I think you left a mark.”

  Ben smiles, smug. “And you left one on me yesterday. Now we match.”

  Xander stares at him for a moment before laughing loudly, and the staff behind the counter look over to see what’s going on. “I should add to your scoreboard for that,” he says. “But I won’t. You get one freebie, and that was it, so I hope you enjoyed it.”

  A little way down the street outside, Ben sees a photographer, and stops short. Xander keeps walking, turning back to beckon him. “Come on. Don’t make me keep you on a leash, Benjamin. Although, you did like that.” He grins, but Ben ignores it.

  “Xander. Paparazzo.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can we—” He sees Xander’s eyes light up and hurriedly rephrases before another question slips out. “Perhaps we should go a different route.”

  “No. This is the way we’re going.”

  “But…Xander.” There are few things Ben truly loathes in life, but the paparazzi have become one of them. They haven’t given him a break since they found out he was dating Xander Romano, new superstar villain of The Hunter.

  Xander walks a few steps back to him and looks him straight in the eye. “How can I possibly control you when you can’t control yourself?”

  “It’s another test.”

  “Yes. Enjoy.”

  “So…this is why I needed my hands full.”

  “Yes. Last thing we need is a picture of us with you flipping the bird at the photographer. This way, at least one of your hands is preoccupied. Halves the odds.”

  “You—” Ben debates whether it’s worth it. It is. “You are a sadistic fucker, Alexander Romano,” he says with a smile, and takes the pen himself to add a mark on the newspaper. “Let’s go.”

  Xander talks the whole time, waving his hands around, but Ben barely hears what he’s saying. He’s concentrating on keeping his blood pressure down; he stares at his feet, glancing up occasionally to make sure he’s not going to run into a trashcan. It bothers him particularly, because here in New York, the attention has usually been less intrusive than in LA. Sure, his agent Ramona set up photo ops of Ben going in and out of Hotel Noir—as a special promo deal, which she keeps reminding him about—but mostly the photographers are better behaved than they are back in LA. But this pap seems hell-bound on getting as close as he can and snapping a zillion shots of them as they walk.

  “Hey!” the guy shouts at them. “Hey, Jasper Crane! This your next victim?” Jasper Crane is the name of Xander’s character on The Hunter.

  The guy follows them for a whole block, and at the back of Ben’s mind, there’s an unwelcome suspicion.

  “What are you thinking now?” Xander asks, once the pap has finally lost interest and they’re another block down.

  “Please tell me you didn’t set this up.”

  Xander throws back his head and laughs in delight, bumps him gently with his shoulder. “Even I’m not that sadistic. No. But I figured there would be a few of them around somewhere. You did very well, by the way.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “I’ve had more entertaining times. More entertaining times involving knives and blood, in fact.”

  Xander grabs him and hugs him, making several passers-by do double-takes, and Ben is too shocked to reciprocate. They don’t touch in public all that much, or at least, not like this, not slammed up hard against each other and so obviously passionate. It gives too much of their privacy away. Xander seems to remember after a moment, and lets go, looking slightly bewildered. “Let’s go get lunch.”

  “Sure, Xander. Let’s do that.” Passing Xander’s test this time—and getting bear-hugged in public—has made Ben light-hearted.

  Okay. I am enjoying this.

  Chapter Four

  They fill out the crossword together over lunch in a bistro, and then sit, content, watching the world go by outside. “Would you like a coffee?” Xander asks after a while.

  “No. I’m good.”

  Xander clears his throat. “Benjamin, would you like a coffee?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Benjamin. Would you like a coffee?”

  “Uh, okay. I guess so. Yes, I would like a coffee.”

  “Ask me.”

  Ben stares at him. “I can’t.” He doesn’t want a coffee, anyway. He already had two before they left the hotel.

  “Ask me,” Xander insists.

  “Xander, I’m not allowed to ask questions. You told me that, this morning.” Ben is trying to figure this out, think ahead of Xander and avoid getting himself in trouble.

  “Ask. Me.”

  “You keep changing the rules!”

  “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself.” Xander grins at him.

  “Did you just quote Walt Whitman at me?”

  Xander ostentatiously crosses through the four lines on the paper, scoring five. Ben swallows a groan. “You’re not being very obedient,” Xander says, disapproving. “Asking questions and arguing when I’m giving you a direct order.”

  Ben gives up. “Please may I have a coffee?”

  “No, you may not. And—” He adds another stroke of the pen to the paper. “— you are not allowed to ask questions today, Benjamin. You know that.” He looks at Ben, and breaks into a laugh at his expression.

  “This isn’t fair,” Ben mutters. “I don’t even have a chance.”

  “Now you’re getting it.” Xander starts doodling on the paper, a passable representation of Ben’s frowning eyebrows and down-turned mouth. “Open your notebook, please. You can journal for five minutes.” He passes the pen to Ben, who snatches it. “What else are you supposed to be today, Benjamin?”

  Ben thinks. “Pleasant and courteous,” he grits out.

  “And are you being pleasant and courteous?”

  Ben closes his eyes, opens them again and looks at him. “No, Xander. I am not being pleasant and courteous.”

  Xander slides the newspaper across the table to him, looking expectant. Ben watches his own treacherous hand descend and add another stroke to the tally. Xander looks so pleased, both with himself and with Ben, that it’s hard to stay irritated. Ben starts smiling. Xander smiles back.

  Maybe there’s no way to win, Xander, but I can outlast you. I’d count that as a win. And actually, I like your games. I don’t know why, but I do. They’re frustrating, but I think I’m frustrated at myself more than anything. It’s not like I shouldn’t see this stuff coming, but I never do.

  It’s fun. I’m never sure, and you’re unpredictable, so anything could happen. Anything does. And that’s fun.

  You hugged me before, in the middle of the street. We’ve never done that, not an intimate hug like that one was, not out in the open. Back slaps, hellos and goodbyes, even a quick peck on the mouth—we’ve done that. But we’ve never hugged like that, not in public, where I’ve been so completely caught up in your arms. I wish we could, but I know why we don’t. It ju
st doesn’t seem fair that we have to hide so much. Sometimes I wish we could go somewhere where no one cares who we are, or where everyone there is just like us, into the same

  Ben pauses. He’s getting too close to something that he and Xander don’t talk about. They’re both out of the closet, and Ben has never regretted that decision, but the kink stuff? That’s a whole other can of worms that Xander likes to keep the lid on.

  “What are you thinking?” Xander asks silkily, pausing the time on his phone.

  “I’m…I don’t know. I was thinking about us, and having a relationship like ours. Like this. In public.” He’s about as articulate as a tree stump right now, but Xander seems to get it. His eyes narrow a little, and he gives a nod.

  “Keep writing.” Xander pokes at his phone again, restarting the stopwatch.

  The games are fun, but I’m tired of you asking what I’m thinking. Like you’re waging a war on my mind, along with everything else. I’m starting to wonder how far you’ll go, Xander, because it’s insidious, this stuff you’re doing. Effective, I guess. But the more you do, the more I want to fight it. It’s invasive.

  I don’t regret it, though. I’m glad we’re doing it.

  I’ll be glad when it’s over, too.

  Come on, the time must be

  “Time.”

  Ben places the pen neatly on the table next to the journal, and closes the cover, smoothing it down.

  “Would you like a coffee?” Xander watches Ben’s eyes flicker. “For real. I’m not fucking with you this time.”

  “No, thank you. I’ve had enough caffeine for now.”

  They walk back to the hotel and collect their things; get a cab back to Xander’s apartment. Xander allows Ben to use his key for the first time, and Ben has to fight not to laugh like a hyena about it right there in the hallway. He relaxes as they walk in, and automatically starts taking off his clothes.

  “Stop,” Xander says, and Ben’s fingers still over the buttons on his shirt. “Elijah and Dean are coming over. I’m guessing you’d rather not be naked in front of them?”

  Ben’s eyes widen. “I’d rather not, no.”

  “In that case, you may stay clothed for now. But I’m going to have to punish you for it later.”

  In the name of all that is holy—how is that MY fault?

  “You look like you might have something to say, Benjamin.”

  “No, Xander. I understand. You have to punish me when I break the rules.” That’s the way the game works.

  “We can add it to your current tally,” Xander says graciously. “Instead of making it a separate issue.” He takes up the newspaper from the coffee table, and Ben turns away rather than watch him make yet another mark.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Ben realizes, with a shock, that he’s hard in his jeans.

  In front of Elijah and Dean, Xander is perfectly normal, but Ben has a difficult time switching his mindset. Elijah even takes him aside in the kitchen at one point and asks how things are going.

  “Fine,” Ben says, surprised.

  “You and the X-man—everything’s good between you guys?”

  “Yeah. We’re good. Better than good.”

  Elijah smiles nervously. “And am I forgiven for last time we met?”

  Ben has to think about that; it comes back to him in a rush. Elijah, making small talk and unwittingly hitting on Ben’s hidden fears about himself, about Xander, about their relationship.

  He offers up his hand to Elijah. “I’m the one who owes you an apology,” he says.

  Elijah shakes his hand, but doesn’t seem completely convinced. “Because you just seem a bit, I don’t know, man. A bit distant,” he says. “Dean and I weren’t kidding the other week, you know. Xander was really bad after—well, after you-know-who.”

  “Xander dated Voldemort?” It’s an incredibly weak joke, but Ben doesn’t really want to answer Elijah’s questions anymore, only he can’t think of a way to tell him to stop probing without it sounding rude. And Xander’s ex, Adam, is definitely not someone that Ben wants to think about right now.

  “Look, I know it’s none of my business,” Elijah says, “but I’m a pushy kind of guy, and Xander’s one of my oldest friends, so—”

  “So you’re asking what my intentions are?” Ben grins, and Elijah colors a little. “My intentions are pure. I promise.”

  “I am so nosy.” Elijah shakes his head a little, looking rueful. “Thanks for not punching me out or something.”

  “Xander would never let me do something like that,” Ben says without thinking. “I mean, uh. You’re welcome?”

  Elijah’s lips twitch a little and Ben sees understanding dawn in his eyes. “Hm.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just—Xander. Kinky motherfucker, or so I hear.”

  “You’re telling me,” Ben says fervently, and Elijah laughs.

  “Yeah. He can be intense. So, I don’t know, if you ever wanted to talk or something, not about, you know—” Elijah holds up his hands, looks embarrassed. Waves of I really don’t want to know about my best friend’s freaky sex life are rolling off him. “I mean, just if you want to talk it out or something, bitch about the way he dresses like a five-year-old with a hat fetish, feel free to give me a—”

  “Why are you two having a confab in the kitchen?” Xander asks, sliding between them to get to the fridge. “Aren’t we worthy of your discourse in the other room? Who has a hat fetish?”

  “Just some girl-talk,” Elijah says. He smiles, and pats Ben on the shoulder. “Definitely go blonder. It’ll make your eyes really sing.” He strolls out of the kitchen.

  Xander snorts, and tosses a water bottle to Ben, who catches it clumsily. “After they’re gone I want to start in on that plan we had,” Xander tells him quietly.

  “What plan? Oh, God damn it.”

  Xander happily pretends to lick his finger and mimes a mark in the air. “Fucking you in every room.”

  “Oh. Okay. Sure.” Ben smiles. “Fun.”

  “Fun.”

  It’s not quite as fun as Ben anticipated.

  They start in the main bathroom, where Xander has stacked sterile needle packs on the countertop. Ben winces.

  “And what was that thought?” Xander asks, watching him in the mirror.

  “Um. That sometimes I forget.”

  “Forget?”

  “Forget isn’t the right word. Sometimes—sometimes I only remember some parts of you, Xander. Sometimes the other parts are more…hidden.”

  “Sometimes you don’t remember that I love hurting you?”

  “Yeah.” And Ben sees that look again in Xander’s face, the same distressed, traumatized look from the lobby this morning, smoothed over instantly. “But it’s good that you do,” Ben adds quickly. “I don’t forget because I wish it wasn’t there, I just—sometimes you’re so—” Don’t say normal, don’t say normal. “You’re so mercurial.”

  Xander thinks that over, and then nods. “Well. I am a Gemini.”

  Xander makes him watch in the mirror while he stabs a needle slowly into Ben’s skin, deeper than usual, marking a large XR in blood drops across Ben’s pectorals. Ben would much prefer not having to watch it happen, but he does as he’s told, even though he can see his own face getting paler in the mirror. The pain is like a high-pitched internal squeal streaking through his synapses, and Ben has to ask for time-out twice. Too drastic.

  Xander was right—he definitely needs his safe words for this trial. And Xander stops immediately each time, but Ben sees something flash across his face that he’s never seen before when he’s safe-worded: frustration.

  When he’s finished, Xander dabs a fingertip into the blood and pats Ben’s mouth.

  “Open.”

  The taste reminds Ben of the time they swapped roles, and he cut into Xander. He feels nauseated. But Xander smiles in satisfaction, pushes him roughly forward over the sink, holding him by the neck, a
nd fucks him like that. Ben’s face is close up to the mirror, so that he can see his own flinching in intimate detail. He drips a few splotches of blood into the sink, the red blooming an astonishing, rich carmine against the white ceramic, and it’s that sight, combined with Xander’s hand working him over, that pushes him over the edge. He blows his load all over the cabinet under the sink, and seconds later is disturbed at his own reaction.

  Xander pulls out before he comes, and wipes himself down while Ben recovers. “Guest bedroom next.”

  This time, it’s hair-pulling and then Xander gouging his nails deliberately into the needle marks until Ben gasps at the pain. Xander is all up in his face watching every single contortion of Ben’s mouth and squinting of his eyes until—something. Xander sees something, looks satisfied, and it’s enough for now, apparently, because he stops the hurting. Fucks him face to face with a thumb pressed firmly on the pulse in Ben’s neck, and makes Ben jack himself to a second, tired orgasm.

  By the time they make it to the lounge, the blood has dried on both of them, smeared over their skin, and Ben is exhausted and aching all over.

  “I don’t think I can do it again,” Ben says. “Not so soon.”

  “Sure you can. Because otherwise I’ll have to punish you for it.” Xander still hasn’t come once. “But it doesn’t have to be quick. We can take our time. We have all the time in the world.” He pulls Ben towards the sofa by the hand, and Ben follows, yawning. He leans against the back of it and lifts his face up for Xander to kiss him, feeling a little dizzy.

  “Tell me I’m good. Please.” He sounds pitiful to his own ears, but he wants to hear it. Needs to hear it.

  “You’re so good, my Benjamin, my gorgeous, golden boy, you’re so very good,” Xander says into his neck. “You deserve a little help, because you’ve been so good.” And Xander kneels down in front of him, smiling as Ben’s eyes flutter closed.

  Xander’s mouth is warm and wet and his tongue so practiced that Ben finally does manage to get it up again. Xander’s satisfied noises make Ben’s heart beat faster. Making Xander happy is becoming his primary focus, he realizes, and that’s a little scary.