Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Joey
“What now?”
If I knew the answer to Frankie’s question, my life would’ve been a fuck-ton easier.
Our dirty laundry was shared. Matteo knew, although maybe he’d kind of suspected anyway, which meant Connor probably knew too.
Elio was off to gossip with Doc, probably after fucking because, I swear to God, Doc didn’t know shit about biology because he was constantly trying to get that man pregnant.
“What? Nothing. You keep being an asshole, and I’ll keep cleaning up shit. The end,” I said with a shrug.
If Frankie expected a speech or something, he was gonna be disappointed. Thanks to him, I had a body to dispose of now.
My shoulder hurt like hell, but I wasn’t going to complain where he could hear me. Job first. Bitch later.
“Stop. I’ll get the guys to do this.”
“It’s my job.”
“And you’re going to hurt yourself more trying to prove you can do it. Stop.” Frankie’s order pissed me off, but it gave me a reason to pause, though I’d never tell him that. My shoulder ached like fucking crazy, and I just wanted to go home. “Let’s go.”
Without waiting for permission, Frankie grabbed my hand and led me out of the room.
On the way down the hallway, he shouted for someone to handle Cille and kept moving.
We wound our way through the maze that was Matteo’s basement until we came out near the edge of the back garden.
Our fingers firmly laced together, he led me to my little house that sat at the edge of the property.
He stopped long enough to punch in the code.
“How do you know that?”
“You think I don’t keep track of you?”
The code was Frankie’s birthday. So fucking embarrassing.
“The numbers are easy to remember,” I said defensively. Even as the words came out, I told myself to shut my goddamn mouth.
“Uh-huh. You can tell me more lies later, Jojo. Right now, you’re going to put some heat on that shoulder before you do something more serious to it.
” He shoved me gently inside my little house.
“I think this is the first time I’ve been in here.
” Frankie looked around the open room and nodded approvingly. “Looks nice.”
The ridiculously proud part of my brain preened at the simple compliment. I loved my damn house because it was all comfy and mine, and no one was around to tell me that a small shrine to Anthony Bourdain and his fucking genius was weird. I grunted my response.
“Since when do you cook?”
“I don’t.” What I did have was a competency kink, and Bourdain had that shit in spades. So did Frankie, but I wasn’t stupid enough to say that aloud.
Frankie took a step closer and cornered me near the doorframe.
“Did you know I like to cook?” His thumb traced along my jawline, and shivers cascaded through my veins until one inconvenient spot chubbed up annoyingly. “Maybe you’ll let me borrow a book and try something.”
“Fuck off.”
“Jojo, I’d rather fuck you.” He said it like he was talking about dry cleaning while I choked on my tongue. Then, even more aggravating, he straightened himself, smoothed down his shirt, and stepped back. “But first, we need to get your shoulder relaxed.”
Frankie stepped back, took my hand, and led me toward the only other door in the place.
I let him lead me straight to my bed. I let him help me switch to an undershirt and sweats, and I let him tuck my ass in. Without a word, he somehow managed to make pain meds and a glass of water appear. My shoulder legitimately ached enough to skip arguing and lie down instead.
Usually, I hated when anyone hovered over me, but somehow, at least for today, it wasn’t completely awful.
Sleep blocked out everything, but his weight on the bed registered.
I wasn’t mad about it.
“Here’s your tea.”
“Where’s the coffee?”
“Lord save us all. You hate coffee and only drink it because you want something hot and don’t want to admit you prefer tea.
It’s the orange spice that you have five boxes of in your kitchen and bags next to the goddamn electric kettle.
” Frankie’s voice rose a few decibels by the time he got to the end.
He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t admitting it.
“Fine.”
“You’re welcome,” Frankie said dryly.
“How long did I sleep?”
It had to have been a minute because he’d slipped out of his coat, rolled his sleeves up, and, based on the crumpled side of the bed, made himself comfortable. Moving on was easier than stopping to think about why he’d bothered to take care of my ass.
“Only about an hour. How’s the shoulder?”
“Fine.”
“Anywhere else hurt?”
“No.”
Frankie watched me from his vantage point near the door. His folded arms across his chest showed off the muscles of his forearms and the light dusting of hair across them.
Fuck, he was sexy.
“I’m tired, Jojo.”
He sounded resigned when he said it, but he moved into the room. His walk across the room was deliberate and slow. His jaw was clenched tight, and it made the muscle twitch a tiny bit.
“Go home then.”
“No.”
Frankie’s slow walk got him next to my bed, and I couldn’t just lie there watching him. With a sigh, I swung my legs around and forced myself upright. He immediately stepped between my spread knees and crowded close to me.
“I don’t want to do that.”
“What do you want then?”
Where the fuck the air in my lungs went was beyond me.
I sounded fucking breathless, but I didn’t know how to fix it.
Every muscle in my body tensed in anticipation of something I couldn’t find the words to name.
The ache in my shoulder didn’t matter because Frankie was close enough for me to feel his heat.
When he dropped to his knees in front of me, I lost all ability to process anything except that this man was in front of me.
“You.” He said it so simply that whatever conversation I’d planned in my head disappeared into the fog.
“That’s it. I’m tired of pretending it’s not.
I’m tired of kicking myself because I should’ve stood my ground with my dad.
And I want every bit of your stubborn, pain-in-the-ass self who doesn’t know when to quit for his own good and hogs the blankets. ”
Fuck me.
There was no holding back at this point because I didn’t know how to control myself.
Our mouths fused together, and it wasn’t pretty or gentle at all.
It was rushed and messy, and we both battled for control of the kiss.
Our tongues curved and danced and explored, but at some point, I gave in and let Frankie take the lead.
When I did, the kiss softened and sweetened.
Our desperation turned into want and need without the harder edge.
Frankie drew back and dropped soft kisses on my jawline and down my neck.
The pulse point at the base of my throat beat a rapid drum, and he sucked the flesh into his mouth, which sent my heart rate skyrocketing.
My sharp intake of breath sent a chuckle rumbling through his chest. I’m not someone who shivers, but fuck me if that man hadn’t sent shivers through my veins.
More gently than I’d ever expect from anyone, Frankie slipped his hands under my T-shirt and spread his fingers.
He explored the grooves and ridges while I desperately tried to remember my name, where I was, and why I couldn’t want this.
But none of that mattered because he pinched the tiny nubs of my nipples and my brain shut down completely.
Frankie moved me like a doll when he maneuvered my shirt off before he sat back on his heels and observed me. It felt more like contemplation.
“Jojo, you’re so damn pretty.”
“The fuck I am.”
“Since I’m the one looking, I get to make the call.”
Frankie’s words were paired with him moving down from pinching my nipples and finding their way across the muscles of my stomach.
Under his teasing touch, they tightened and trembled.
I was barely breathing, but he hadn’t seemed to notice.
He was too busy entertaining himself by watching me shake in front of him.
His unwavering gaze made me squirm, but it didn’t make him look away.
I wanted to tell him to stop, but I didn’t want that either.
Frankie had always been able to see right through me to all the bits I didn’t like, and it felt like he was silently cataloging them.
The time and effort I’d spent making sure no one knew how long I’d been in love with him would soon be wasted.
“Stand up for me, Jojo,” Frankie ordered, and I obeyed.
His deft fingers pulled down my sweats, slipped them over my feet, and then returned to his place between my spread knees. His long fingers explored my thighs on their way to the juncture of my legs.
Breathing was already an effort, but my heart stopped too when Frankie dipped his head and slipped my cockhead into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the tip and dipped inside the slit.
“Fuck, Frankie,” I groaned.
His mouth on my dick made me forget whatever ache my shoulder still had. His tongue traced the vein that ran along the underside and teased that small bundle of nerves underneath the head.
I did my best to keep my injured shoulder still, but I threaded the fingers of my other hand through his hair and urged him farther onto my cock.
Thankfully, Frankie obliged and slipped more of me into his mouth.
Inch by inch, he swallowed me down. I felt the movement of his muscles enveloping my dick, and everything else faded away.
Each tug set waves of pleasure coursing through me.
Whatever objection I thought I had to this was gone because all my brain cells were focused on trying to make this moment last. Frankie on his knees for me was nothing I’d ever imagined, and everything I’d ever wanted.
Frankie might be the one on his knees, but he was fully in control of everything that was happening. I was just along for the ride. He controlled the movement. He controlled the depth. He controlled whether I was going to find satisfaction, and somehow I knew it without a single word being spoken.