Chapter Six
FRANKIE
I’m going to marry the love of my life.
He said that so absolutely. Like he knew who that was.
I, on the other hand, knew I was going to throw up. That’s how much those words felt like a knife to the gut. If he kept going, I couldn’t be sure of what I’d do. How I’d react. We couldn’t sit here and talk about the love of his life when I was staring at mine in the eye.
Because he’d always been that for me. It never mattered how much I tried to repress it or forget it, move past him. Turner was the first boy I ever loved, and my feelings changed and evolved, grew up with me. But they always stayed within me. For the longest fucking time.
At moments in the past, I’d entertained being wrong.
I let a boy from school give me my first kiss, then gave someone else my virginity.
I’d flirted with dating here and there, made sure I gave myself at least a chance.
But I wished it had been Turner on all of those occasions.
I longed for him to snap out of it and see me. But life kept me realistic.
I couldn’t afford to be a hopeless romantic. If anything, I could just be … hopeless.
Turner didn’t want me. Even before Mia.
Otherwise, he’d have me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I need to get some air. It’s either that or …
” I shook my head, unable to finish the statement, then scrambled off the bed and walked past the man who had felt like both purgatory and a safe haven, trying to focus on the sound of my feet on the carpet just so I wouldn’t run out of this room.
“It’s either that or what?” Turner asked.
I stopped.
“It’s either that or what?” He repeated. The mattress creaked, and then I heard heavy steps coming my way. “Why is it that you need air, Frankie? What about this exactly is making you so scared that you have to run away from me again?”
My teeth started clattering again. Lightly, barely a tremble, but marking the beginning of something. Or an ending, just like always. I crossed my arms over my chest protectively, refusing to turn around. “The reason why you ended your relationship doesn’t concern me.”
“I’m making it your concern. Next argument.”
“This is not a game for me, Turner.“
“Look at me,” he said. “Look at my face and tell me if you think I’m playing.”
I turned to face him. I had to, when he sounded so …
pleading. Like I’d break his heart if I didn’t give him this.
He took one determined stride, closing the distance between us.
His nearness was so overwhelming. Like never before.
My eyelids fluttered closed before speaking.
“I left so our friendship wouldn’t be ruined, and I could at least have good memories. And that’s what I’m trying to do now.”
His voice came out broken. “Why would you think that could ever happen?”
I huffed out a laugh. It was black with bitterness. “Because I don’t want to be your friend,” I told him. All of my body was shaking now. “And if I don’t leave, I am going to tell you that. Don’t you get it? I want you to be nothing to me, I—”
Warm palms clasped my cheeks desperately. Impossibly gently. As if he was furious at me and terrified he’d shatter me. “Take that back.”
Pressure rose to the back of my eyes, emotion clogging my chest, my voice, my mind.
Everything. But I wouldn’t cry. I was done crying.
“It’s the truth, Turner. That’s why I moved to Boston.
So I wouldn’t have to be part of your life anymore.
So I would become nothing but someone you once knew and kept good memories of. ”
“But you are a part of my life, Frankie,” he all but spat out, fingers digging into my hair, tilting my head back. “I don’t care where you move in the fucking country. You will always be a part of me.”
“You. Don’t. Get. It,” I shot back. “And I’m not explaining it to you. You should have noticed, you should have seen—”
Turner kissed me.
He closed the short distance between our mouths and kissed me.
The world was silenced as his lips made contact with mine, and for the span of a heartbeat all of me spun into peaceful nothingness. Mind, heart, limbs, soul, it all halted. Turner Reece was kissing me. His lips were on mine, and he was kissing me like he’d die if he hadn’t done this. Like he’d—
A whimper rose and rang in my ears, zapping me back to my senses.
It was mine. Whatever surprise had been left in my system evaporated.
My hands curled around his wrists, I tilted my head back and matched his kiss with all the bliss invading my body.
Euphoria. I was euphoric. The kind that makes your knees wobble.
“Fuck,” Turner cursed, coming up for air. His mouth descended again, kissing my lips hard. Harder. “Fuck. I wasn’t planning on doing this. Not now. I had a plan, Frankie.”
My shoulder blades were pressed up against the wall behind me, Turner’s body caging me in. He’d kissed me. I’d been kissed by Turner Reece, and he looked so unreal with his mouth wet from my lips.
“You were planning to kiss me?” I finally asked, breathless, playing catch up.
“I was dying to. I’ve been dying to since I saw you.”
My heart went from racing to full throttle. “You have?”
“I could show you how much. I could show you just how much you take up inside of me.”
My grip tightened on his wrists. I wanted that. His skin felt so warm and soft against mine. He looked so handsome. So mine. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t think clearly. All I’d ever wanted was him. And—
“Frankie, I don’t want to be your friend, either.
” He frowned at his own words and my chest seized.
“Unless we can be friends who do this.” His eyes shut and he shook his head.
“Christ. I’m not getting this right,” he muttered.
“Frankie, when you found me in the lobby, and I saw you standing there, looking like—a mirage honestly, I—the last thing in my mind was friendship. All I could think of was this, closing the distance and taking your mouth because—”
I surged upwards, silencing him.
Fuck it.
Fuck words. Fuck thoughts. Fuck explanations.
All I could think of was this. Turner wanting to kiss me. Wanting me. How could I not show him that I had always wanted him back?
Turner groaned deep in his throat, the press of his lips going wild with intensity. Hallelujah. I went on my tiptoes, giving him further access, and he slanted my lips, brushed my tongue with his. We both moaned, or maybe only I did, but who cared when Turner Reece was kissing me?
He cursed against my mouth. “You taste like—”
I silenced him again. I didn’t care how I tasted.
The vise of my hands on his wrists switched to the nape of his neck, and I latched onto him, bringing him closer.
I wanted him as close as he could get now that I had him.
Because what if I lost this? What if this was the one chance I got to have him?
I felt like I had to seize this moment. Make it count, in case it didn’t last.
Turner came up for breath again, trying to get more words in. Visibly holding himself back.
I spoke before he could, “Did you mean that?” He frowned, lips parted, lips even redder. “Do you really want me like this?”
The sound that left him was indescribable. “Like I’ll fucking die if I don’t.”
“Then show me,” I whispered. “Stop trying to be gentle with me and show me.”
There was a tick in his jaw, like hesitation maybe, or a warning.
Then Turner was taking my mouth with a fierceness that hadn’t been there a second ago. A desperation even, that reminded me of the yearning I’d felt for so, so long. His tongue brushed mine again and I moaned, loudly.
His knee shifted between my legs, widening my stance with one swift motion.
I hitched a breath, and he took the chance to deepen the kiss.
One of his hands landed on my waist, while the other slipped into my hair, keeping me in place for him.
His fingers closed around my sleeping shirt, pulling at the fabric with one frustrated groan.
He could rip it in two for all I cared.
Turner grunted in his throat, like he just might. Then his hips pushed into mine, making my blood swirl and swoosh down my body.
“Was that rough enough for you, baby?” He asked against my lips. I sucked in a breath instead of answering with a loud yes. His mouth descended down my jaw, nipping at my skin. “I can do better than that.”
I couldn’t wait to see how.
He shifted his arm around my back, lifting me just enough so that my weight fell on that leg that was thrusted between my thighs. His mouth returned to mine, and he moved me against it slowly. Another moan burst free.
Turner repeated the motion, as if making sure he’d gotten it right the first time.
That felt so good. Incredible. And I was so needy, so incredibly horny, that I was pulsing all over. That I’d become a live-freaking-wire. “More,” I pleaded. “Please.”
“More,” Turner repeated roughly. He was breathless. Eyes raking me all over. Like that word had confused him. Like he didn’t know what to do about it. “Don’t ask me to give you more when I want to give you all I’ve got.”
Something dangerous melted inside of me. I kissed his chin softly. Then his jaw. The side of his neck. I gave him time to get a hold of himself because it really felt like he needed to. Like he felt this was too big, too. I nipped at the bottom of his throat.
Turner let out a shaky exhale, barrel chest shivering.
Holding this much power over him was so new.
It made me take my exploration somewhere else.
I drove my hands down his chest, letting my nails scrap his skin through the cotton.
When they reached the hem of his shirt, I slipped them underneath.
Turner hitched a breath at the contact but didn’t move.
I was still pinned to the wall by his body.
I was the trapped one, so why did it feel like he was completely at my mercy?
I rested my palms on his skin. He was so warm, so soft, so solid.
I moved them up his sides, not removing the shirt, just touching him.
Feeling him. Like we were teenagers teasing each other.
When I returned them to his stomach, and let my fingers trail down to the waistband of his jeans, Turner hissed out a curse that made me smile.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
The smile vanished. The sincerity in his voice made me feel so vulnerable.
I returned my hands to the back of his neck, and pulled him down to my mouth. Turner hummed as I was the one deepening the kiss, taking from him. Then he returned the enthusiasm by shifting his body against me so more of my weight rested on his thigh.
Fuck me, that felt so good.
I arched my back, and in response, his hand sneaked under my shirt. Pleasure spiked at the contact of his fingers on my skin as they made their way up my side. They stopped when they found my bra, and suddenly I regretted ever leaving it on.
I pushed against his touch, encouraging, even whispered a little, “Yes.” And moaned when Turner’s thumb inched higher and pulled at the thin lace.
Goosebumps covered my body, making it more sensitive. Turner brushed the pad of his finger over the sensitive peak, slanting my mouth so he could kiss me deeper, melting me against him.
My hips swayed in response.
He did that again, a little rougher.
I moaned into his mouth, continuing to move against his thigh. This felt so good. I needed more friction. I needed to get this crescendo going. I—
“Ride me,” Turner told me. That roughness still in his voice, making it sound like there were rocks in it. “Use me to get off.”
There was a moment of hesitation. Trepidation. I’d been flying on automatic, and now we were switching gears.
“I want you to come like this,” Turner said, head descending to my ear. His breath tickled my skin, the sensation of having him all over me muddling my senses. My eyelids fluttered closed. He nipped at the lobe of my ear. “I promise I’ll return the favor later.”
The image that painted in my head definitely got me going. It meant more Turner. It meant more kisses, more of his touch, more of this, more of everything.
I undulated my hips, not seeking, but taking. “Oh God,” I whimpered. Turner’s thumb resumed the teasing, his mouth pressing into the skin at my neck. I repeated the motion. “Jesus, this feels so good.”
“Keep going,” he said into my neck. But that high I was chasing felt so within reach now that it made me sloppy. “Just a little harder,” he murmured. “You’re almost there, aren’t you Frankie baby? And I’m not even touching you.”
I was. And if he kept calling me that, while I rode his leg like this, I was going to fly out of my body.
Turner’s arm braced around my back, taking over for me. Directing the way I moved, demanding that orgasm out of me.
Stars started twinkling behind my eyes. Wave after wave of pleasure cascaded down my body. This felt like too much. It was too much. I’d never experienced this intensity with anyone, like I was going to implode, and he wasn’t even touching me. “I can’t—” I whimpered. “I’m so close but I—”
“Yes, you can,” Turner growled against my lips.
His other hand came down to my backside.
He pushed me forward. Pressed my core against his thigh at a different angle.
“You’re going to drench my jeans, baby. And you’re going to do it like this.
Because if I touch you now? If I touch you, it’s game over.
If I touch you, I’m throwing you on that bed and getting away with every single thing I’ve ever wanted to do to you. ”
Pleasure rippled in a delicious, torturous crest, and I spun right out of consciousness. I left the world, right then and there, and for the longest, sweetest time, I was limp in Turner’s arms. Because he’d made me come. And kissed me. Called me beautiful.
This had to be what bliss felt like.
A moment of pure happiness.
This is what I’d been longing for. Waiting for. Wanting.
“You come so beautifully, Frankie,” Turner whispered. “Like I’ve always dreamed of.”
Always.
That was a funny word.
I knew I’d always wanted him, but Turner hadn’t.
He couldn’t have.
Could he?