Christmas in Coconut Creek (Dirty Delta, #1)(41)
“Looks like I did.” Frankie inched into the kitchen behind me, his feet shuffling against the tiles. I didn’t turn to face him; instead, I busied myself with the counter, starting to aimlessly move the ingredients into piles. My nervous energy materialized into obsessive organization.
“So I think we should start with the cookie bars because they take the—” I couldn’t finish the sentence before a warm, hard body settled at my back. Frankie’s impressive, sinewed hands came down right outside my own on the marble, and the tops of his thighs pressed my hips against the cold ledge.
We both heard my breath catch.
“You wore these shorts to torture me,” he whispered against my ear, nudging his nose through my hair. “Because you want me to look at you and forget how to keep my hands to myself.”
His grainy, hushed voice was like a kindling to my core. I should have expected he’d cut directly to it. Why dance around the inevitable? Frankie had never done that, and I didn’t think he intended to start then. Naively, I’d assumed I would have at least a batch of snickerdoodles in the oven before my panties were around my knees—but, then again, I wasn’t exactly complaining. We had all night.
I closed my eyes and rubbed my lips together, basking in every inch of his chest as it flattened against me. I was both fearful and intoxicatingly powerful in that moment, but instead of inching away I returned the pressure, rocking my hips back and forth slightly.
“Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish, O,” he warned me. “If you’re gonna rub your sweet little ass against me like that, I’m gonna do something about it.”
“They could walk in and see us.”
His lips went to my neck, warm and wet, kissing my pulse point. “I don’t give a fuck.”
I wasn’t sure I did either. The last thing on my mind was self-preservation, and at that point I imagined Natalia and Mateo were well occupied beyond closed doors. My hips ground more overtly and Frankie dropped his face into the juncture of my shoulder, groaning.
“I’ve been strung out all day thinking about this,” he confessed. “You’re a devious little thing, leaving me throbbing like that last night.”
“I don’t break my promises.”
Frankie ran his hand up my arm softly and then threaded his fingers around the base of my neck like a collar. My heart boomed rapidly against the heat of his palm.
“Promise me something, then?” He twisted me carefully so that his lips were inches from mine and when he spoke next, I could feel the silhouette of the words against my trembling mouth. “The first time I make you come tonight, you’ll look me right in my eyes and say, ‘Thank you, Frankie.’”
I pressed up onto my toes and closed the gap between us immediately, diving tongue first through his parted lips. Frankie reacted with a smug smile that I could feel as he kissed me back. Our teeth clashed, and his fingers around my throat tightened like a pressure band.
I had kissed plenty of men before, but not one compared to the tender intensity of this one. Frankie claimed without even trying to. We mimicked each other perfectly; when I went high, he went low. I gasped and he swallowed. He licked and I moaned around the taste of his tongue.
Frankie’s hand not holding me flush to his chest dipped down to the apex of my shorts, rubbing languidly against the zipper, toying with the brass button. I could feel him hard and ready, so little material between the satisfaction we both wanted.
“We have to talk,” he murmured.
“Right now?” I asked breathlessly. What the fuck did he want to talk about so badly it couldn’t wait past an orgasm or two?
“Right now.” He nibbled on the lobe of my ear, and a warm current buzzed beneath my skin like lights on a Christmas tree. “Because it’s the difference between what I’m doing to you at the moment and what I’m going to be doing to you next.”
“How about a little incentive?”
Jesus Christ, who am I? My body had apparently been abandoned and occupied by the Ghost of Horny Holidays Past.
A short, amused scoff left his throat. “Why don’t we play teacher, Ms. Brody? Where I pull these shorts down and give you a very extensive lesson in anatomy.” His fingers found their way between my legs.
“What warrants extensive?”
“Touch.” He squeezed me there. “Taste.” Then licked my lips.
“Start talking, Casado.”
He looked like he would kiss me again, just as a door clamored shut down the hallway.
“Cookie time!” Mateo’s burly voice announced.
I instinctively pulled away from Frankie and curled into myself, swiping my bottom lip with the back of my hand just as both our friends bounded down the hall together. Frankie glared at his roommate as Mateo weaseled to the island with the baking supplies and started opening bags of chocolate morsels.
“I thought you guys were having a date night.” I cleared my throat to hide the octave of arousal. Putting several steps of distance between myself and Frankie, I joined Nat at the oven where she was setting it to preheat.
“You don’t get this ass from eating grass all day, honey,” Mateo answered, pointing to his rear and shoveling a handful of holiday candy into his mouth.
“Give me that.” Frankie aggressively swiped the bag from his best friend’s hand and tossed it back on the table. Annoyance was not only apparent but prevalent as he sulked to the cupboard and pulled out a cookie sheet.