EWB: Enemies With Benefits

by N.R. Walker

didn’t mean to upset you,” I murmured. This was all a bad idea . . . He shook his head quickly, more tears welling in his eyes. “No, you didn’t. I, uh . . . wasn’t expecting this. It’s just . . . maybe the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Oh, goddammit.

I put the cake on the table and went to Valentine, putting my arms around him. “Don’t crush my flowers,” he mumbled into my sweater,...

He was still smiling, and he ate everything on his plate. So much for only wanting coffee . . . But then that line between his eyebrows appeared. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

His eyes met mine. “Nothing. I was just thinking.” “I know. You get a line right here,” I said, pointing above my nose.

He inhaled deeply and sighed on the exhale. “None. Us, whatever this is. I’ve only ever had physical arrangements. Sometimes repeats. Mostly not. I never wanted anyone around. I’m not exactly easy to be around, let’s put it that way. It’s just easier to be alone rather than explain my . . . life, my job, my family. And I never found anyone who was compatible.” He shrugged. “Until . . .” “Until me.”

When I’d finished stacking the dishwasher, I ran some hot soapy water into the sink for the pans and suddenly Valentine stood behind me. He put his hands on my waist and pressed his forehead against my spine. “Thank you,” he whispered.

smiled, not game to turn around in case he pulled away. I slid my hands over his to hold him right where he was. “Is this the first time you touched me first?” He was quiet for a moment. “I told you not to get smug.”

“If you want to tell me, then yes. You don’t owe me any explanation.” Here goes nothing. “To be honest with you, Valentine. I saw those in your bathroom cabinet a while ago.”

“It’s okay.” “I’m not ashamed,” he said again. “I just . . . it’s not easy to admit weakness.” “It’s not a weakness, Valentine.”

“These are for anxiety. I don’t need them very often either, but sometimes it sneaks up on me. If it’s something big or something I can’t control . . .” Like the idea of me leaving.

“Sometimes it feels like everything’s closing in on me and I can’t breathe.” “Like last night.” He nodded. “I thought you were going to tell me . . .” He shook his head again and laughed. “Fuck. This got complicated, didn’t it?”

“When you . . .” He scowled like he was mad at himself. “When you fuck me, it makes everything stop. Nothing else exists. My mind goes quiet and nothing else matters.” Oh, okay. Not what I was expecting, but—

Just a peck. And for all the filthy things we’d done together, that simple little peck was just the sweetest thing. It took me by surprise and made by belly swoop. He’d never initiated touch, and he’d certainly never kissed me first.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his cheeks tinted in the softest pink. Damn.

Five minutes ago, I’d have denied it and told her not to be ridiculous . . . and now I had to stop myself from blurting it out. I wanted to tell someone.

“But you like him.” My gaze cut to hers. “I, uh . . . I’m not exactly dating material. Let’s be real.” She did the double-stare thing. “But you like him.” I slumped back on the sofa, my hands covering my face. “Fuck.”

“Oh dear. Did he buy you those flowers? Those are dreadful.” I gasped. “Leave them alone. They’re the only flowers I’ve ever been given.”

He was quiet for a second. “Are you sure you’re okay? If you want me to come around, just so you’re not alone . . .” His offer settled in behind my ribs, a warm feeling I wasn’t quite prepared for. “I’m fine, but thank you.”

Arsehole. It was horrifying when people sang happy birthday to me. Horrifying. But it was also kind of nice. Not that I’d ever admit that, and I sure as hell would never tell Marshall that.

I didn’t wait to see if he followed. I knew he would.

“I thought we were to never discuss this at work.” “I could have texted,” I admitted. “But I also wanted to not-thank you for telling Shayla it was my birthday.” He grinned. “You’re not-welcome.”

I didn’t know where it would stop or what it meant for us, but I was happy to take it one step at a time. Starting with dinner.

“Who’d you travel with?” “Lleyton.” I nodded, resisting the urge to growl. Valentine laughed. “Jealous?” “No.”

“But you could fight me,” I added. “When I push you around and hold you down. You could actually stop me if you wanted to.” He laughed. “Why on earth would I want to stop you? You and I both know I beg you for it.”

“No.” “Sure looks like it to me.” I didn’t care what it looked like to him. “Well, it’s not.” “Looks to me like you actually care about him.”

“Enzo likes me.” “Because you’re here all the time.” He shot me a look that dared me to argue. “Because you make Valentine cook, you make sure he eats. You watch movies together. You bought him flowers, for fuck’s sake.” He gestured to the dying flowers still on the table. “Sounds like dating to me.”

“Bullshit. He’d tell me about the randoms because they meant nothing. But he didn’t tell me about you because there is something to tell. Whatever the fuck this is between you actually means something to him.”

“He’s never opened himself up to anyone,” Lleyton said, his voice quieter. “He’s never let anyone into his world, into his life. In all the years I’ve known him. Except you.” I looked at him then, not sure what he wanted me to say. “And you can’t tell me you don’t care about him.”

“Just don’t be pissed at him. If you wanna blame someone, blame me. Not him. He needs you in his life. He needs . . .” Fuck. “He needs people in his life who actually care about him.”

“I need a shower,” I said. “Thank you for staying. Thank you for cleaning up . . . after me. I can’t believe I . . .” Ugh. My stomach wasn’t happy. “I need to have a shower. Maybe sit on the floor and try not to die.”

He looked at what was left but nodded. I don’t know what his fascination was with me and eating. As if he actually cared if I did or not . . .

And for some stupid reason, I didn’t want to say goodbye. The thought of going home by myself made me uneasy. It made me sad.

“You were one hundred percent correct. Now I just need to spend the day on the couch staring at the television and I’ll be right.” He smiled but didn’t take the bait. Christ, I was going to have to ask. Would I? God, what if he said no?

No, I could go home and clean everything, put a small grocery order in for some more coffee and some of that Turkish bread Marshall got the other day, and chill out for the rest of the afternoon by myself. As I did every day. As I had done my whole life. Except now I didn’t want to.

“I’m fine,” I replied automatically. My auto-pilot response. “Bullshit.” My gaze shot to his and he sighed. “You can’t lie to me, Valentine. You’ve got that thinking line between your eyebrows and you squeeze your fingertips when you’re nervous.”

“Valentine,” he said softly. “Did you want to come up?” I asked in a rush. “You don’t have to. I know you’ve probably got things to do or places to go. But I . . .” Fucking hell. “I’m not sure I want to be alone today.”

I let out a long breath, not believing I’d just admitted that out loud. To Marshall Wise, of all people. Why him, of all people? You say that as if that’s a bad thing? He’s the only person who understands you, Valentine. The only person who’s ever understood you. You have feelings for him and you know it.

Once inside, he pulled me onto the couch. Him on his back, lying down, me between his legs with my head on his chest. This seemed to be our thing.

I sipped my sports drink every now and then, and he rubbed circles on my back and played with my hair. The warmth of his body, his touch, his huge dick pressed against my belly, was every bit the comfort I needed.

I ignored the way my heart craved this, craved him, and the contentment made me more relaxed t...

“What?” “He cooked you food. He fed Enzo. He told me to keep it a secret to protect you. He put a bucket beside your bed, and he slept on the couch in case you spewed in your sleep.” I know. I know he did these things.

I know relationships aren’t your deal, Valentine, so I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’re in one.” I snorted out a laugh. “What?” “In case you’re as oblivious as he is, he’s got it bad for you. That man is in deep.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Lleyton laughed. “What time did he leave this morning? Did he cook you breakfast?” Fuck. Fuck.

Fucking fuck. “Oh my god,” Lleyton said. “He’s still there, isn’t he?” Then he roared, laughing....

He took my face in his hands and kissed me, slow and sensual, tongues tasting. And Lleyton’s words came back to me. In case you’re as oblivious as he is, he’s got it bad for you. That man is in deep. Oh god.

The way he was kissing me, I thought Lleyton might have been right. And it struck me how I wasn’t horrified or even scared. Instead, it made my heart race and my belly warm. It made my skin prickle all over, in a good way. In a way that felt alive.

I hadn’t planned to spend most of my weekend with him, but I wasn’t mad about it. In fact, I kinda liked it.

And when he’d been so nervous to ask me if I wanted to come back to his place . . . how could I say no? It was sweet. He was sweet, whether he wanted to be or not.

He liked to cuddle, whether he ever wanted to admit that or not. He liked the company, as much as the old...

But this new Valentine? And he was a new Valentine. He wasn’t the cold and distant arsehole he’d pretended to be anymore. Not with me, anyway. And I wasn’t mad that ...