Chapter Seven
TURNER
I was down bad.
No. Scratch that.
I was going to marry her.
I needed to work out the specifics. But yeah, I was going to marry Frankie Rossi.
Give her my name. Take hers. I didn’t care.
I’d beg, spend a lifetime of groveling to have her.
Last night had only solidified the intentions I’d brought with me to Vermont. Now that I’d tasted her mouth? Now that she’d soaked my jeans like that? Asked me to be rough with her? Responded to my touch the way I’d only ever dreamed of?
I didn’t think I could go back to how things were.
I definitely couldn’t go back to not having Frankie.
After a whole night of curling my arms around her, of watching sleep take her with a soft smile in her face, lips swollen from my mouth, I had this all-consuming urge to occupy every single nook and cranny of her. And beg her to occupy mine.
It might be the whole stalker situation, feeding my most basic need to protect her.
It had sure put me on edge, made me a little thoughtless, and pushed her to let her guard down when I’d found resistance.
But Christ, I’d spent all my life convincing myself I couldn’t have her, that she might not want me, and look where that brought me.
Touch her and lose your balls.
That’d been Ric’s exact words, when we’d been nothing but two kids who knew shit about the consequences of ultimatums like that one.
His first, and only, warning. We’d been twenty-one and drunk, at one of the parties Frankie had tagged along to.
She’d promised me she wouldn’t drink, be our designated driver, and I had folded.
Just like I always did around her. She had looked so incredibly pretty that night, in one of those band shirts she was always wearing, tucked into a skirt so short it had sent my pulse skyrocketing.
I’d never seen her dance like that before, spinning, smiling, with her arms outreached under a tacky disco ball one of our friends had hung in some filthy basement.
She’d looked so free, so otherworldly. Like a light I wanted to reach out for even if I knew it’d burn me.
It wasn’t the first time I’d thought of her like that.
It was the first time Ric caught me staring, though.
My best friend flat out shot down whatever must have been on my face.
I never blamed him. Not even now. Frankie Rossi had always been out of my league, and off limits.
That was why he’d never caught me before that night.
I’d kept all of that at bay like my life depended on it.
Three years wasn’t a big age gap now, but growing up?
That night she’d just graduated high school, for crying out loud.
She had a whole life ahead of her and I was just some six foot one baker with dreams and no real prospects.
I’d never felt less-than for not going to college like Ric, or having to work night shifts while I saved money for the bakery.
I’d always been happy with who I was, or the man I was becoming.
But that didn’t necessarily make me right for Frankie Rossi.
Ric’s warning was the perfect reminder.
Just as my heart started to get twisted in the bittersweet memory, Frankie stirred beside me.
A little sigh left her lips and fell on my chest, warming the fabric of the shirt I’d forced myself to sleep in. Much like my jeans, which were unbuttoned, but still on.
I glanced down, catching her shifting her arm over my stomach, her fingers clasping the cotton covering my torso while she mumbled something.
We had so much to talk about. So much we should have discussed before I had her against that wall and my mouth was on hers.
But God. I wanted to kiss her again. Pepper her face, neck, and shoulders. Then, strip off her pajamas and keep going down the rest of her body. I’d barely gotten to explore her last night, see her, touch her; and my patience was making me pay in spades now that it was morning.
She threw a leg over mine, tugging herself a little closer, and complaining when she found resistance from the comforter. With a smile, I hooked my arm around her waist and pulled her flush against my side, helping her get where she was going a little faster.
One of my new favorite sounds emerged from her. The things I’d do for those whimpers, I thought. Crazy things. Like forgetting common sense. And if she so much as slipped those dangerous fingers traveling down my midsection under my shirt, I’d be one step closer.
She did, right away.
A shaky breath hissed out of me at the contact, and in more bad news for my cool, she let out another one of those small whimpers.
“Frankie?” I asked her. “Whatcha doing, baby?”
Her response was to let her hand to continue its torturous pathway.
Her fingertips brushed the skin of my hip softly.
Leisurely. Then she veered to the side, along the waist of my jeans.
She stopped at the light trail of hair that led to my navel.
Played with the button, already undone, then flirted with the top of the zipper.
Fuck.
I was already rock-hard under that zipper.
“We should talk,” I said, more for myself than her. There was so much that had to be said. Explained. I’d already hit jackpot when she’d let me kiss her without demanding all the answers I owed her. “We didn’t finish the conversation we started.”
Her fingers traced a featherlight circle over my skin, the heel of her hand brushing my dick through the denim.
Ah, Christ. “We talked plenty,” she quipped.
Her head tilted back, then she placed her chin on my chest, just like she’d done what seemed an eternity ago, but only was last night.
Her smile was mischievous. Breathtaking.
Will she let me marry her? Claim her?
“See?” Frankie said, when I didn’t speak. “Who needs words.”
Not me. Or yes, me. Or—
Her hand slipped past the waistband, her fingers wrapping around the hard length of my dick through my boxers.
My hips shot upwards with a curse.
“This okay?” She asked, a little breathlessly. “Last night we didn’t—I didn’t get to touch you.”
I pushed against her palm. “You want me?”
She nodded.
“You fucking have me.”
Her grip turned more confident, pulling a groan right out of me at the sheer pleasure rushing down my body. Covers that had been bunched at our waists were pushed down to our feet, and her hand moved. Frankie gave me one single stroke, with conviction, base to head, biting her lip with attention.
Well, shit. I was going to burst ridiculously fast if—
She threw that leg that had been between my knees over my thighs, straddling me.
With that sharp focus that was making me feel on top of the world, she released me and hooked her fingers on the waistband of my jeans.
Her gaze bounced from the painfully obvious bulge under the denim to my eyes, and she let go of that bottom lip with a loud pop.
My jaw clamped with the effort of not barking at her to get those layers off me and touch me so I could feel her skin on me. “Go ahead,” I gritted instead.
She tugged at the zipper, pulled the rough fabric open. Then she clasped her fingers around the elastic of my boxers, and dragged them down too, eyes eating me up like she was unwrapping a gift.
I felt so undeserving when my biggest gift was her.
“Say it again,” she told me, swallowing thickly. “Call me baby. Tell me I have you.”
My chest expanded, hands grabbing her hips, holding onto her so she wouldn’t fly out of my reach. “You fucking have me, baby. All of me, it’s yours if you want it.”
Frankie’s eyes filled with an emotion as powerful as the lust heating her skin.
As if she was both elated and terrified.
As if she wanted to luxuriate in this moment and take it before it went away.
More words rose to the tip of my tongue, needing to reassure her, instruct her, demand she both take me, and savor me, while removing that that trace of fear from her eyes.
But her fist closed around my dick and every rational thought left me.
Frankie stroked me in earnest. Her hand moved along my length, her thumb brushing the head every few seconds, making my vision blur at the edges and curse after curse slip through my lips.
“That’s so good,” I heard myself rasp. She was bothering her lip with her teeth again, just like earlier.
All of her body flushed with a beautiful pink hue, like I’d spent hours roughing it with my mouth.
I wanted to do that. I needed to do that.
“Go at me a little harder. Don’t be scared to get a little rough. I like it.”
Frankie whimpered, bringing her other hand in and taking my words to church.
My breath hissed out of me, my eyes rolling back in my head, my hips thrusting into her grip.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I was so ready to let go, to paint my stomach while she watched me.
I sat up, pulled my shirt over my head, and let myself drop back on the bed.
Frankie’s eyes widened for an instant, her lips forming an “O” before her gaze went crazy all over me.
“Your tattoos,” she whispered, eyes frantic. “So many of them are new. And beautiful. You’re—”
“At your mercy,” I said, clasping my hands around her face and bringing her down to my mouth. “I’ll tell you a million times over,” I rasped into her lips. “Will you make me come now? Make a mess of me?”
Frankie nodded, resuming the motion of her hands, and moving her body over mine like she wasn’t able to stop herself from seeking relief too. I kept her where she was, kissing her hard, matching her strokes with my hips even harder, allowing her to shove me off the cliff I was barely hanging onto.
“Fuck,” I cursed into her mouth, swelling and swelling and swelling before shattering into a million pieces. “Frankie, baby. So good, so good, so perfect.”
Her body went lax above mine, riding me through the orgasm with soft whimpers of her own while I just let myself hold her. Kept her there, on my chest, her weight on me feeling like heaven.
“I’m making a mess of you too,” I finally murmured, smugly.
“I’m not complaining,” she answered with a chuckle.
I’d missed that sound. Like crazy. I wanted more of it.
I leaned my head in, planting a loud kiss between her neck and her shoulder.
Frankie gasped, and when I did again, she giggled.
It emboldened me to finally pepper those kisses all over her.
Neck, shoulders, head, face. And when I couldn’t reach more, I rolled us over, inverting our positions so I had more access.
Frankie’s laughter died, and mine did too.
That fire I was beginning to become addicted to reignited in her eyes, which were bouncing from mine to my mouth.
I kissed her lips gently, rejoicing when she melted against me. My palm cupped her jaw, then trailed down past her neck, chest, belly. With a flick of my hand, I tugged at the edge of her tee, and she nodded. I helped her out of it.
The sight of her, in her bra, hair spread on the pillow I’d slept on was the kind of view one spends a lifetime fighting for. The kind you kept forever.
“You’re beautiful,” I told her. “Have I ever told you?”
She shook her head, lightly. “Just last night. Before you kissed me.”
“I thought about it so often, it felt like I was screaming the words at you.”
Her bottom lip started shaking, but I knew it wasn’t with tears or apprehension. It was anticipation. And something she insisted on keeping locked and away from me, I feared.
The palm I had on her hip squeezed before moving. I want to touch you, always, it seemed to say. She gave me another nod, like she understood it meant more than just right now.
My heart raced at the possibility, my fingers becoming impatient, my touch thorough as I covered her stomach, hips, waist, sides and swells of her breasts with featherlight caresses.
Despite my urgency, I took my time, watching Frankie grow increasingly impatient.
And only when she whimpered a complaint, did I let my hand descend down her belly.
“Part your legs for me,” I said.
Her knees rose and parted.
“That’s my good girl.”
I let my hand slip inside her shorts, finding her underwear soaked through and obtaining a stunning moan from her.
Possessiveness gripped my gut. “This is all for me. Just me. I want to hear you to say it.”
“This is all for you,” she whispered.
Frankie’s breathing was shallow, her chest heaving up and down. She was going to come so sweetly, and so fast. It made it hard to wait and tease her like I wanted to.
I let my fingers part the material, and Frankie’s body immediately curled towards me. “Are you going to let me in?” I asked her, watching her face closely.
“Please,” Frankie whispered. “If you don’t—”
“With fucking pleasure,” I told her.
I shoved her panties to the side and let my fingers slide into her in one swift motion. She was drenched, and the way her face contorted with pleasure made me feel like an animal.
“Say my name,” I demanded, bringing my thumb to her clit.
Frankie’s whimper was deliciously loud, but it still wasn’t my name.
“Let me hear it.” She felt so snug, so close, as her hips moved to match the rhythm of my hand.
“Say my name with my fingers inside of you, Frankie. Go on, baby. Loud and fucking clear.”
Frankie spasmed, coming with a loud cry of my name.
Beautiful, I thought.
I’d do anything to hear that sound again. Every day. Anything to keep it safe, somewhere inside of me. To keep her safe. Or keep her. Period.
There wasn’t a single thing I wouldn’t do to keep Frankie Rossi.