Chapter 16 #3
Frannie can’t help herself, arching her neck and tugging lightly on Elsa’s wrist to pull her into another kiss.
She feels tingles all the way down to her toes.
Her heart and head and body are full and brimming and bright.
She could stay just like this forever, frozen in a perfect, otherworldly happiness.
And then someone giggles.
They pull apart gently and glance across the loft to find both Michael and Bridgette watching them, enormous grins on their faces.
Frannie feels herself flush, but Elsa just snorts. She releases Frannie’s jaw and stands up, bringing Frannie up with her.
“You shush,” she tells the kids, before leading Frannie over to the lone window at the back of the loft. She pushes it open, letting in a gust of icy air.
Frannie, fighting a shiver, opens her mouth, and Elsa gives her a look, like she already knows Frannie was about to suggest she get frostbite to make out a little.
Elsa crosses the loft to rummage in a trunk and comes back with a truly hideous neon green and purple tartan knitted poncho. She extends it to Frannie, who can’t help but wrinkle her nose.
“Seriously?” Elsa asks, laughing.
Frannie grins and pulls the tacky thing over her head, ignoring Bridgette and Michael’s guffaws behind them.
She follows Elsa up the bookcases, out the window, and onto a suspicious fire escape.
It’s still bitingly November cold, but that doesn’t bother Frannie a bit, not when Elsa’s taking her hand again to guide her down the fire escape and onto an even more secluded section of flat roof.
Like their own private patio. There’s even a little café table and two plastic chairs, somehow.
“I like to sit out here in the summer sometimes. Well, all seasons, really. I don’t get cold,” Elsa says, leaning back against the wrought-iron railing instead of settling on one of the cracking chairs.
“Yeah, sorry about my weak mortal body,” Frannie says.
Elsa laughs, pulling her in by their still connected hands, until Frannie’s right up against her. Elsa lets go to wrap her arms around Frannie, ducking her head down. Frannie rises on her toes.
Elsa’s lips are so soft. Everywhere they touch Frannie feels live-wired, delight and arousal and that strange ghostly sensation swirling into a giddy elation. She’s never felt anything like this, with anyone.
“Your weak mortal body feels pretty good to me,” Elsa whispers when they break apart a minute, or ten, or maybe twenty later.
Frannie blinks up at her, raking her eyes over Elsa’s smile, her beautiful eyes, the pink on her cheeks, her halo of lightly disarrayed blond hair, and the subtle glow around her face.
“Yeah?” Frannie whispers. Elsa nods, eyes twinkling. “You’re all tingly. Do I feel weird? Mortally squishy, or something?”
“Mortally squishy?” Elsa repeats, then shakes her head with a laugh.
Her hand traces lightly up and down Frannie’s side, zips of static trailing in its wake.
“No, you feel warm,” she says softly, almost reverent.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything so lovely.
” She leans in for another kiss, her breath cool against Frannie’s lips. “I’d forgotten.”
“Doesn’t seem like it,” Frannie says when Elsa pulls back. She traces the line of Elsa’s jaw with gentle fingers and Elsa smiles, turning her cheek to kiss her palm.
“I’d forgotten a lot of things,” Elsa says, “before you.”
“Thank you for letting me in, to help you remember them,” Frannie says, feeling broken open and alight and hesitant all at once.
Elsa nods against her palm. “You’ve made what’s incredibly strange and hard about all of this rather easy.”
“Have I?” Frannie wonders. It hasn’t felt that way.
“You could have screamed the first time you saw Bridgette. Could have pretended not to see us. Could have kicked the kids, and me, out of Henry’s apartment any day.”
“I would never,” Frannie says, a little insulted.
Elsa nods, gripping the poncho against Frannie’s back. “But you could have. And that was brave of you.”
Frannie sucks in a breath, warmth spreading in her chest. “Well, you could have stuck to your guns and kept the kids from me. Could have just … never visited me again.”
Elsa hums. “I thought about it.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Frannie admits.
Elsa’s smile widens. “Yes, I can tell.”
Frannie is pressing against her rather tightly, her thumb stroking Elsa’s pulse, her other hand starting to wander.
“Would you prefer I play it cooler?” Frannie asks.
Elsa laughs and the whole world behind her seems to twinkle. It’s a trick of the light, but Frannie’s heart lifts anyway. Like Elsa might be so happy she can make all the streetlights far below them flicker with her glee.
“Never,” Elsa says, leaning down to pull Frannie back in, their mouths meeting in a fervid kiss.
Elsa tastes like a summer lightning storm. Which isn’t something you can taste, but Frannie’s sure she’s right. Elsa’s hands glide lower, cupping Frannie’s ass, one of her legs slipping between Frannie’s, and Frannie groans against her mouth.
“You’ve forgotten nothing,” she whispers when Elsa breaks from her lips to lave kisses down Frannie’s jaw.
“Help me remember more,” Elsa murmurs.