He slipped so quickly into his first language.
The movements of his hands beautiful.
Sensuous.
But Frankie was horrified by what he said.
She grabbed him by the wrists to stop him. “Why in the world would you say that? Why would you ever think I want you any different than you are? I love you, Evan.”
His eyes pinched closed for a flash, and she reached out to sign against the scar that ran down his chest. YOU ARE MY FAVORITE.
His eyes weren’t even open, but she knew he could feel it anyway.
He finally opened his lids and the confession was tumbling the second their gazes met. “I’m in love with you, Evan.”
“Frankie.” He said it like a warning. Like it was absurd.
She didn’t care. Shying away wasn’t exactly her style. She held him tighter, her frantic stare locked on him.
“Tell me you don’t love me back, and we can curl up on your couch and watch a movie the way we always do, but don’t you dare lie to me.”
Frankie was shocked by how quickly he gripped her by the side of the neck.
Her pulse stampeded out of control as the man gazed up at her.
Intensity bloomed in the space.
A flashfire that shocked straight to her soul.
“I have always loved you, Frankie Leigh. Always. I love you so fucking much it hurts.”
Frankie’s heart slammed against her ribs. A frantic bam, bam, bam. Her pulse a thunder in her ears as she listened to the words that were the most perfect harmony.
He loved her.
He loved her.
She wasn’t going to waste any time.
She slowly stood.
Everything grew dense.
The air and their breaths and the weight of their stare.
I LOVE MY NECKLACE, BUT THE ONLY THING I EVER WANTED IS YOU. I WISHED FOR THIS, EVAN. I WISHED FOR YOU.
Evan groaned, and his palm was running up the side of her bare leg. Chills scattered in its wake.
“I shouldn’t do this, Frankie,” he muttered in that scraping way. “It’s not right. I meant what I said tonight. I want the best things in this life for you, and I can’t give that to you.”
She set her hand on the side of his head, and the man leaned into it, desperate for her touch. “You’re wrong. You are the best thing. Don’t take that away from me.”
“You don’t want this life. Believe me.”
“I do. I do. I do.”
Could he hear her chanting it?
Could he hear her soul singing it?
His hand tremored at her flesh.
Nerves and hesitation.
“Please,” she whimpered. Begging him to just give himself to her.
Once and for all.
Throat quivering, he slid his palm higher up her leg.
That connection raced.
Spun and sped.
He slipped his hand all the way up under her skirt.
That was right when his restraint turned into a long moan. “Shit . . . Frankie. Why aren’t you wearing underwear?”
“I figured you’d want me only in this skirt. It is your favorite, isn’t it?” she mouthed right up close to his lips.
She put on the short pink tutu that she normally wore with leggings underneath.
Not tonight.
“Yes.” The word was a breath, and he was reaching around to grip her by the bare bottom.
Tingles flashed.
That severity flared.
And Frankie was shaking like crazy when she reached up and pulled off her shirt.
She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath.
“Shit,” Evan hissed, and he was gripping her ass tighter.
She slowly climbed onto his lap.
Evan watched her like he was the one receiving the gift.
But this was what they both deserved.
To be each other’s treasure.
Their breaths mingled and their hearts hammered and Frankie was so nervous she thought she was gonna pass out.
Getting brave, she let her fingertips trace down his abdomen. God, she loved the way he reacted, the way his muscles ticked at her touch and the way he inhaled a jagged breath when she flicked the button of his jeans.
She thought he might protest, but she saw all the reservations drain out of his eyes and hunger fill them instead.
He lifted a fraction to help her nudge his jeans and underwear down his thighs, the pants jutting from his mouth hard and shallow.
He gripped her by both sides of the waist.
Fingers burrowing into her flesh.
“Frankie . . . what are you doing to me?”
“What you did to me a long time ago.”
Tension bound between them.
Pressing and pulsing and suffocating.
Turbulence a shock that quivered through every cell in her body.
Because Evan was bare below her, and he was fumbling around in the drawer of the end table beside him and producing a condom. She knew he’d have them. He always did. Something his doctor had impressed upon him. That he was always prepared.
He ripped into it and, a second later, he was rolling it down his hard length that was so much bigger than she’d anticipated.
Her daddy had always told her she needed a good dose of fear, but she didn’t want to feel a lick of it right then, and she was leaning up so she could mouth the words down at Evan.