that.
Nikolas Mikkelsen apparently fed a hunger in Ben that she dimly perceived but didn’t understand.
She sighed. Thwarted, unrequited love was an unattractive companion. Why could she not shake off this man?
But for all his faults, and he had many—what man didn’t—Ben was…Ben was…
“Practise?”
She shook herself, and in reply to Nikolas’s annoyed echo of practise , explained, “Pretending to be Nigel, yes? You’re a florist? What if you have to…I don’t know, answer some questions about flowers?” Oh, God, small victories, but so much fun.
Ben began to snigger and flicked his attention to Nikolas. Kate, pleased that he got the joke but not letting him off the hook either— think you can choose Nikolas fucking Mikkelsen over me! —rummaged in her handbag and pulled out a book, thrusting it at him. “Cordon Bleu. Complete home course. Ingredients are being delivered.” She handed another book to Nikolas. “Flowers A-Z.” His expression was priceless. She was a bad, bad woman. She cast a final glance at Ben, whether lovingly or not she would decide later, when thinking other things about Ben, and left them to it.
The room smelt very nice anyway.
CHAPTER FIVE
Nikolas laid the book about flowers very carefully on the counter next to the kettle. “I’m going to lie down.”
Ben was flicking through the incomprehensible book he’d been given and looked up alarmed at this uncharacteristic declaration. The only time he could remember Nikolas saying something similar he’d been sick, hallucinating and suffering from headaches. He stood, instantly worried and put the back of his hand to Nikolas’s forehead. “You okay?”
Nikolas caught his hand and smiled, a small, feral smirk. “I’m not going to lie down alone…I apparently have a stranger to explore.” He brushed his palm over Ben’s hair then captured his mouth, pulling him in tight. Ben got the message when he felt the hardness. He slid his hand down, stroking Nikolas through his jeans. Nikolas began to back him towards the stairs. When Ben’s heels connected with the lowest step, he fell back. Nikolas went with him, lying hard and heavy upon him. By the time they made it to the bedroom, Ben was in a fever of need. His mind had already pictured Nikolas naked; he already felt him deep inside.
Nikolas held him pressed against the wall, however, and shook his head. He brushed an unsteady finger over one of Ben’s eyelids. “Take these things out first.” Ben kissed him, roughly, trying to force him back onto the bed, but Nikolas was adamant. With an annoyed sound, Ben bent and removed the contacts, tossing them. Nikolas then fumbled with the diamond stud. It hurt like crap having it put in and now it stung coming out. Ben winced and held his ear about to protest, but Nikolas pushed him forcibly onto the bed and straddled him. He was rolling the stud between his fingers, staring at Ben.
Ben put a hand tentatively up to Nikolas’s face, ignored his pull away and cupped his cheekbone. “Do you remember when your face was all bashed in?”
Nikolas nodded, and if it hadn’t been too banal for him, Ben knew he’d have added duh . “Well, it was still you. Are you really so hung up on the superficial me?” For the first time, it struck Ben the answer to this was probably yes, and he added, far less sure of himself, “If I had been burnt in that fire. If my face was all burnt up, would you still love me? Want me?”
“It’s not really fair of you to ask me this, Ben. Who would know the answer to such a thing until it happens?”
“What?” Even though he’d been unsure of himself, he’d been sure of Nikolas, and had expected a violent profession of undying devotion—or Nikolas’s version of that, which was probably a grunt, a slap for stupidity, and then being turned over and fucked.
He tried to sit up, but Nikolas held him down, shifting to sit more comfortably on his favourite place. Desire between them was not gone,
Nikolas Mikkelsen apparently fed a hunger in Ben that she dimly perceived but didn’t understand.
She sighed. Thwarted, unrequited love was an unattractive companion. Why could she not shake off this man?
But for all his faults, and he had many—what man didn’t—Ben was…Ben was…
“Practise?”
She shook herself, and in reply to Nikolas’s annoyed echo of practise , explained, “Pretending to be Nigel, yes? You’re a florist? What if you have to…I don’t know, answer some questions about flowers?” Oh, God, small victories, but so much fun.
Ben began to snigger and flicked his attention to Nikolas. Kate, pleased that he got the joke but not letting him off the hook either— think you can choose Nikolas fucking Mikkelsen over me! —rummaged in her handbag and pulled out a book, thrusting it at him. “Cordon Bleu. Complete home course. Ingredients are being delivered.” She handed another book to Nikolas. “Flowers A-Z.” His expression was priceless. She was a bad, bad woman. She cast a final glance at Ben, whether lovingly or not she would decide later, when thinking other things about Ben, and left them to it.
The room smelt very nice anyway.
CHAPTER FIVE
Nikolas laid the book about flowers very carefully on the counter next to the kettle. “I’m going to lie down.”
Ben was flicking through the incomprehensible book he’d been given and looked up alarmed at this uncharacteristic declaration. The only time he could remember Nikolas saying something similar he’d been sick, hallucinating and suffering from headaches. He stood, instantly worried and put the back of his hand to Nikolas’s forehead. “You okay?”
Nikolas caught his hand and smiled, a small, feral smirk. “I’m not going to lie down alone…I apparently have a stranger to explore.” He brushed his palm over Ben’s hair then captured his mouth, pulling him in tight. Ben got the message when he felt the hardness. He slid his hand down, stroking Nikolas through his jeans. Nikolas began to back him towards the stairs. When Ben’s heels connected with the lowest step, he fell back. Nikolas went with him, lying hard and heavy upon him. By the time they made it to the bedroom, Ben was in a fever of need. His mind had already pictured Nikolas naked; he already felt him deep inside.
Nikolas held him pressed against the wall, however, and shook his head. He brushed an unsteady finger over one of Ben’s eyelids. “Take these things out first.” Ben kissed him, roughly, trying to force him back onto the bed, but Nikolas was adamant. With an annoyed sound, Ben bent and removed the contacts, tossing them. Nikolas then fumbled with the diamond stud. It hurt like crap having it put in and now it stung coming out. Ben winced and held his ear about to protest, but Nikolas pushed him forcibly onto the bed and straddled him. He was rolling the stud between his fingers, staring at Ben.
Ben put a hand tentatively up to Nikolas’s face, ignored his pull away and cupped his cheekbone. “Do you remember when your face was all bashed in?”
Nikolas nodded, and if it hadn’t been too banal for him, Ben knew he’d have added duh . “Well, it was still you. Are you really so hung up on the superficial me?” For the first time, it struck Ben the answer to this was probably yes, and he added, far less sure of himself, “If I had been burnt in that fire. If my face was all burnt up, would you still love me? Want me?”
“It’s not really fair of you to ask me this, Ben. Who would know the answer to such a thing until it happens?”
“What?” Even though he’d been unsure of himself, he’d been sure of Nikolas, and had expected a violent profession of undying devotion—or Nikolas’s version of that, which was probably a grunt, a slap for stupidity, and then being turned over and fucked.
He tried to sit up, but Nikolas held him down, shifting to sit more comfortably on his favourite place. Desire between them was not gone,
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