EWB: Enemies With Benefits

by N.R. Walker

He cried out, trying to twist away from the intrusion so I held his arms above his head and held him still until he got used to it. “You can take it,”

I murmured behind his ear. I licked up the back of his neck, nipping the skin with my teeth.

Then I kissed his shoulder, his neck, nuzzled my nose in his hair until his breaths w...

How could I not be sick of this? I hadn’t even come yet and I was already looking forward to doing this again. How could I still want more?

God help me, I wanted to do this forever. With him. With Valentine fucking Tye. Of all people.

I was slow-fucking him again and he was loving it. I dug in deep and hard, slow and sure, while I kissed every inch of skin I could reach. He grunted with...

I wanted to stretch him thin, to iron out any knots and troubles, and hold him. I wanted to kiss him, make sure he ate properly. I wanted ...

So I held him tighter and fucked him slower. I lost myself to the warmth of his body, to the feel of him underneath me, to the sounds he made, to the gasps and moans. I lost all track of time. And maybe for ...

And I let him. This was not part of our agreement. This was not what I’d signed up for. But I let him do it. I wanted it. I loved it, and I took every drop.

I laughed and pulled the shirt free from his wrists, then pulled him into my arms. He fit against me perfectly, like a goddamn puzzle piece. He was warm.

He smelled like himself but also like me, of sex and sweat. It was divine; a scent made just for me.

I closed my eyes for just a second and my heart was thumping for different reasons. Not the exertion, not the cardio marathon we’d just done. No, it was thumping, tw...

Valentine fucking Tye reasons. I was too tired to care. Too exhausted, too heavy, to...

“Not work.” The penny dropped. “Ah. The new boyfriend.” “He’s not my boyfriend.” “But you want him to be.” My eyes cut to his.

“God fucking dammit.” I shook my head, getting mad at myself for letting things get this far. I hadn’t stopped thinking about Valentine. About how my heart was beginning to betray my mind.

“I can’t tell you anything more, and I’m sorry about that. But it was supposed to be a no-strings-attached thing, and . . .” “And now there are strings.” “Just on my side,”

“You sure?” “One hundred percent.” Because the purpose of our fucked-up agreement was for me to hate-fuck him. That was all he’d wanted. He’d even said pretend-hate wasn’t enough.

But if I told him I didn’t hate him anymore? He’d tell me we were done, and that was the reason for the lump in my belly and the strange tight ache in my chest. I hated this feeling.

Taka took another drink of his beer. “Yeah. Your problem is you got feelings for someone you shouldn’t.” I stepped in front of him, his eyes met mine, and all I could do was shake my head.

My heart was hammering and I almost felt sick. I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up, but I couldn’t find the words—and I couldn’t lie to him. He’d been my best mate since high school.

“What do you mean ‘a problem’?” I was sure I knew what he was talking about and what it meant for us. I knew this had been too good to be true. My good mood, my intent on buying us dinner, and making a night of it, seemed so foolish.

What was I thinking? That we had something more than what it was? Christ, Valentine. This is why you keep your walls up. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him because of what he’d see in my eyes.

“Not that.” I cut him off. “Why did you hit their number four?” “Because he deserved it. And I fucking told him too. When he was a puddle of blood on the field, I fucking told him it was for you. Because fuck him.”

He shook his head, his jaw clenched. “He put a hit on you and no one fucking touches you but me.” Oh. Okay, wow.

“Fuck! Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” I could see the torment on his face in the reflection of the wall of glass. The truth was, I’d liked what he’d said.

“You know what? I’m not fucking sorry about that either. I am the only one who can touch you, and if any fucker thinks they can hurt you, I’ll send them to hospital too. I don’t give a fuck. I protect what’s mine. That’s who I am and it’s what I do, and I won’t apologise for it. If you don’t like that, then . . . then fucking tell me now.”

“Fuck! I should go. I shouldn’t have come here tonight.” I protect what’s mine. He said I was his.

“I dunno what I’m doing,” he said. “I don’t either,” I admitted in a whisper. “What I’m doing, what this is. I don’t know.” I swallowed hard. “Just don’t go.”

He put his fingers to my chin and lifted my face. I didn’t want him to see my eyes, to see the honesty, the vulnerability. The real me. But he kept staring until I had no choice but to meet his gaze.

I couldn’t take my eyes from his now, not even when I’d wanted to. His fingers still held my chin, but then he swiped his thumb along my bottom lip, and his gaze drew down to the movement and he let out a shaky breath.

He licked his own lips and moved in closer, and I knew he was going to kiss me. We’d kissed before, but only during sex and usually when he was domineering and forceful. This was going to be neither of those things.

I couldn’t remember the last time someone had k...

Did I want this to happen? Was I going to let him kiss me? God, I think I am. I want him ...

He closed the distance between us, his eyes fluttering closed, and he pressed his lips to mine. Soft and warm, slow and gentle. His lips parted and he kissed me again, his hand sliding up to cup my jaw as he angled us to deepen the kiss.

The sounds made my knees weak. What the hell. There was no rush, no push and pull, no fight for dominance. No rough hands, no demands.

I’d forgotten what it felt like to be kissed like this, how good it felt, how I needed more . . .

What they said about Marshall was a different story, but for all his faults, Marshall was honest. Most people didn’t like that trait in others, but personally, I loved it. Honesty, no matter how brutal, was always better than a lie.

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth. I hated that he did this, that he played the let’s-feed-Valentine game, but damn, part of me loved it too.

He kept his hand on my thigh, and he did a fair bit of smiling, which did concerning things to my heart. I hated that he could do that to me. I hated that I let him. That I liked it.

“You get a line here when your mind goes somewhere you don’t want it to. What’s wrong?” I shook my head, brushing off his ability to read me as pure luck. “Nothing. I—” “Bullshit.” Great.

“Because you stopped me from leaving before. Whether you like it or not, something inside you didn’t want me to leave. And yeah, it’s confusing and a total mindfuck, because I spent my whole life hating you, and yet here I am. It is confusing. But for some fucked-up reason, I find myself needing to soften the barbs a little. Fucked if I know why. And I think you need me to.”

“Christ, Valentine. I don’t know what I’m doing. I know outside of whatever this is, it can’t be anything more. And that’s fine. But inside whatever this is, maybe we can order takeout and not get weird about it. It’s just food. If you really want me to do nothing but turn up, fuck you, and leave, then tell me right now.”

“Look at your reflection,” he ordered, giving my shirt a little tug on my throat. “Look at how fucking hot you are.”

To his muscular body, his strong arms. His complete control over me.

He turned me around and bent me over the back of the sofa again. He took a fistful of my hair and made me look at our reflection, at him bending over me, pressing against me. Dominating me. Owning me.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

“Any requests, Valentine?” God, the way he said my name. It shouldn’t sound like that coming from him.

Ignoring that blooming warmth in my chest at him cooking me breakfast, ignoring the unfamiliar thump of my heart when I thought of his smile, and relishing the ache and painful twinge in my arse. I hadn’t stopped smiling yet.

Oh yeah. I was in deep trouble. Deeeeeep. Like Marianna Trench levels of deep. And you know what? I didn’t fucking care.

Another beat of silence. “The reason you go?” “I’m talking about you.” “Yes, I got that part,” he said. “Why am I the reason?” “Well, first, the only reason I went was to annoy you.”