Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
The strong taste of tequila hits me the moment Frankie slides her tongue against mine. She’s drunk. No way would she be running up and kissing me in public if she weren’t. Do I let that stop her from attacking my mouth like a hungry panther? Fuck no. I’ve never claimed to be a good guy.
“You okay?” I ask her when she pulls away, her chest rising and falling.
“Better now that you’re here. Do you have any idea how boring your brother is?” She laughs and unwraps her legs from around my waist. I reluctantly let her feet drop to the ground. I don’t let go of her. My hands shift from her ass to her lower back.
“It seems like you’re having a good time, though,” I tell her while looking over her shoulder towards where Esterio is sitting at the bar watching us.
“Come on, I need another drink.” Frankie slips out of my hold and turns. I’m quick to wrap my arm around her shoulder, leading her back towards the bar. I want every fucker in here to know she’s mine.
When we reach Esterio, I look down at his usually pristine suit. It’s wet. “What happened to you?”
“Someone spilled their drink on me,” he grunts.
“More like a woman threw a drink in his face and then slapped him.” Frankie laughs.
“What happened to you?” Esterio nods to my arm.
“Got caught in the crosshairs.” I shrug.
Frankie turns around to face me. Her eyes land on my arm, the torn fabric and small amount of blood that’s drying there. “What? Who? How?” she stutters out. “Shouldn’t you be seeing a doctor or something?”
“It’s just a scratch. I’m fine,” I tell her.
“What about a tetanus shot? Antibiotics? Should I call Aunt Evie and ask her?” Frankie looks up at me. Her eyes show genuine worry.
“Do not call my mother, Frankie. I’m fine,” I tell her. “What I want is a drink.”
“Okay, that I can get you. Esterio here taught me how to do tequila properly. It’s disgusting, by the way.”
“You shouldn’t say that too loud around these parts.” I laugh.
The bartender comes over. “Usual?” she asks me in Spanish.
“Yes, please, and whatever she’s been drinking,” I reply in English, knowing full well the girl can speak it.
“Are you free later? My bed is cold and you could warm it,” she continues in Spanish anyway.
Esterio mutters something under his breath, but it’s Frankie’s reaction that has me pausing. She spins around, reaches up, and presses her lips to mine. She doesn’t say anything, but winks at me when she sits back down on the barstool and turns to my brother. “Do you guys come here often?”
“I don’t know what gave you the impression I’d be jumping into your bed, but this is my future wife. Show her the same respect you’d give any member of my family,” I tell the bargirl in Spanish. Frankie’s back stiffens.
Huh… When the hell did she learn Spanish?
She was never interested in learning the language when we were younger. I tried teaching her a few phrases here and there and her response was: I won’t ever need to know Spanish. It’s a waste of time.
“Sorry. I’ll get your drinks.” The bargirl turns around, looking sheepish. I’m not going to bring up the topic of Frankie knowing Spanish yet. I’ll wait.
“You do know it’s illegal in most countries to kiss your cousin, right?” Esterio smirks around the rim of his glass.
“Fuck off. We are not cousins, asshole.”
“Really? Because I remember growing up calling her and her brothers my cousins. Pretty sure her parents are my uncle and aunt,” my brother tells me what I already know.
I’m not biting, though. I don’t care what anyone thinks about me and Frankie. “Let’s go back to this woman who slapped you? What’d you do with her?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? You let someone slap you?” I ask.
“She walked right out, and he came back over here sulking,” Frankie says. “It was a moment I will never forget.”
“You’re so drunk you’ll forget by morning,” Esterio tells her.
“Nope, I’m not that drunk.”
“Sure you’re not. You just go around kissing all your cousins in public now?”
“Nope, just him. But if you knew how good he could kiss, you’d wanna kiss him too.” Frankie points to me, and I smile at her words. I think I like this version of drunk, honest Frankie.
Two glasses of tequila are set in front of me. I hand one to Frankie.
“Wait! We need to toast,” she says.
“What are we toasting?” I ask her.
“Us. For finally becoming kissing cousins.” Her smile is wide, and when she laughs, I can’t help but lean in and kiss those lips.
“I fucking love being kissing cousins with you.” Clinking my glass with hers, I then down it and slam it back onto the table. “Okay, we’re going,” I tell my brother. “You staying?”
“I have someone to see,” he says.
“That’s code for he has a woman to go and bed,” Frankie whispers or tries to whisper.
“I’m well aware.” I pull Frankie up onto her feet, and she stumbles.
“Maybe don’t give her tequila again. She’s a lightweight.” Esterio laughs.
“I’m not the one who brought her here, asshole,” I grunt and then lead a very-wobbly Frankie out of the bar.
By the time the car pulls up in front of the house, Frankie is passed out.
Her head on my lap and the rest of her body curled up across the seat.
I don’t want to move her. I like her being this comfortable with me.
It’s new, and I’m fucking scared that when she wakes up, she’s either going to regret kissing me in front of people or not remember it.
Slipping my arm under her waist, I shift her until I can pick her up. Then I slide out of the car with her in my arms, holding her dress down over her ass so no one gets a sight of anything they shouldn’t be seeing.
“Need a hand?” my driver asks.
“Nah, I got it. Thanks.”
He walks up to the front door and opens it for me. I make it to the first step before my father’s voice stops me from going any farther. “What the fuck happened to her?”
“Esterio took her to a bar and introduced her to tequila,” I explain.
“She’s passed out drunk?”
“Yep.” I nod.
“Fucking idiot.” My dad shakes his head. “Make sure she has water and Advil by her bed.”
“Was planning on it,” I tell him.
I walk up the stairs, and it crosses my mind to put her in my bed and not the guestroom. I don’t. She probably won’t appreciate waking up in my bed and not knowing how she got there, so I walk into the guestroom and close the door with a foot.
Frankie stirs when I lay her on the bed. “Emilio? What happened?”
“You fell asleep,” I tell her.
“Mmm, it’s so hot.” She starts pulling at her dress. “Get it off me.”
“Are you sure?” I ask her. “Wait. Let me get you a shirt.” I run into my bedroom and grab one of the shirts from the closet. When I walk back into Frankie’s room, she’s managed to get the dress off and is sitting on the bed in a matching bra and panties set. Fucking pink lace.
Not the time. I shake the thoughts of her body from my mind as much as I can and pull the shirt over her head. Once her arms are through the holes, I reach up behind her, under the fabric, and unclip her bra. Then I slide the straps down her arms to remove it.
“You’ve done that before,” Frankie says accusingly.
“You should sleep.”
“What if I don’t want to sleep? I’m horny, Emilio. How about instead of sleep, we have sex?”
I freeze. She did not just say that. And I have to fucking turn her down. Goddamn it. “You’re drunk, babe. I’m not fucking you when you’re drunk,” I tell her.
“Please… Emilio, do you not want me?” She pouts and starts pulling the shirt upwards, revealing her thighs.
“I want you. You know I do. But when I fuck you, I want to make sure you remember it, and I want you to want me like this when you’re sober.”
“I want you even when I’m asleep.” She sighs and falls backwards onto the bed.
“Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning. Te amo,” I whisper the last part because I don’t need her to hear it.