Beef Cake (Donner Bakery Book 4)

by Smartypants Romance

  Maybe I just need a beer or a night out on the town. I’d fly back to Dallas for a weekend, but that’d mean leaving Frankie and that’s absolutely out of the question. Maybe I can talk her into going to Dallas with me once the charity event is over. To be able to take her away and go anywhere—just the two of us, where we can just be us without any responsibilities for a day or two—sounds incredible.

  I make a mental note to add that to my mile-long to-do list.

  Feeling much calmer than I was a few minutes ago, I decide to stop for the day. I remove my gloves and towel off as best I can, only pausing to take a few large swigs from my water bottle. When I bend down to grab my bag from a nearby bench, movement from the other side of the large window catches my eye.

  Frankie.

  Frankie has never been here before, not to my knowledge, and she looks like she’s gonna bolt any second now. Without thinking or putting on my shirt, I run over to the door and push it open.

  “Hey, are you okay? What’s going on?”

  Her face is an open book at the moment, which is so uncharacteristic of her that it throws me for a second. She looks sad and tired, but also a bit skittish. As I step out onto the sidewalk, I’m fighting against every instinct within me. I want to reach out and wrap her in my arms, to provide protection from whatever is hurting her.

  When her eyes find mine, they’re red-rimmed and glassy. I can tell she’s been crying and it kills me. “Hey,” I say, finally extending my hand toward her like you would a hurt animal—letting her know I’m here and I mean no harm. “Frankie . . . I’m right here. Tell me what’s wrong. What happened?”

  She looks away and then back to me, a desperation in her expression I’ve never seen before.

  “I need you.”

  Three words. Three simple words that make me want to soar. I don’t make her repeat them because, even though they came out in a whisper, I heard them loud and clear. I close the distance between us and take her hand. Whatever is going on, I’ll handle it, but the important thing is she’s here. She came to me.

  “Come on, I’ll drive you home. You can leave your car here. Grab what you need from it.”

  She doesn’t argue or question me, which means she’s still in some kind of state of shock or something and I say a quick prayer, thanking God she made it to the gym safely. It’s obvious she should not be driving right now.

  When she’s buckled up in the cab of the truck, I hop in the driver’s seat and start the engine. Frankie immediately relaxes into the leather seat and closes her eyes. I have to take a few cleansing breaths before I’m able to start driving because my adrenaline has kicked into overdrive. I’m so relieved she came to me, though, and I let that feeling settle into my bones while I drive us to Frankie’s house.

  Once we’re there, Frankie seems more like herself as she opens her front door and motions for me to follow her inside. She’s still not talking, but I gladly do what she wants because she’s in control right now.

  When I’m inside, she locks the door behind me and grabs my hand, leading me straight to her bedroom. Never breaking eye contact, Frankie kicks off her shoes before sliding her jeans over her hips and down her legs. She then does some kind of move from that old Flashdance movie and manages to pull her bra through the sleeve of her shirt, tossing it on top of her jeans. I’m still standing in front of her, not knowing what I’m supposed to do next, when she crawls into her bed and gets under the covers.

  “Will you hold me while I sleep?” Her voice is quiet—but the blood rushing through my eardrums is not. This right here is probably the most intimate I’ve ever been with a woman and my clothes are still on.

  Please, God, don’t let me fuck this up.

  I strip down to my boxers, ignoring the fact I haven’t showered, and follow her into bed.

  At this point, I’d do anything she asks.

  Fly to the moon.

  Run with the bulls in Spain.

  Holding her while she sleeps would be my honor.

  Once I’m under the covers, she immediately latches onto my body, as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear. I want to reassure her and tell her I’m here to stay for as long as she wants me, but the moment feels like it’d be ruined with words.

  Instead, I wrap my arms around her and kiss the top of her head, breathing in her scent. Staring off into the darkness of her bedroom, my mind wanders, making up scenarios and trying not to jump to conclusions. With every soft breath she takes, I remind myself she’s here, and she’s whole, and that’s all that matters.

  Eventually, I fall asleep too, the exhaustion from my day catching up with me.

  When I feel the bed dip, I wake with a start. Remembering where I am takes me a moment, but then I see Frankie’s beautiful face. Even in the dark, I can tell she’s watching me.

  “I’ve been dreaming of this for a while now.” Her words are hushed and soft.

  “Dreaming of what, exactly?”

  “You holding me like this,” she says, shifting so her chin is resting on my chest. “I’ve been wondering what it feels like to fall asleep in your arms and now I know.”

  I chuckle quietly, afraid to disrupt the bubble we’re in. “What’s the verdict?”

  “It was even better than I imagined.” She smiles before leaning down and placing a kiss on my chest. It’s such a simple action, but it causes my heart to skip a beat all the same. “I’ve had other kinds of dreams about you, too.”

  These words cause a completely different reaction below my waist.

  “You gonna tell me about those, too?” I ask, wanting more, but not wanting to push.

  “I’d rather show you.”

  Oh, hell, yeah.

  Frankie’s mouth is on mine before I can register what’s happening, but I quickly catch on and latch onto her ass, pulling her further up my body. The kiss isn’t frantic, like I feel; it’s slow and meaningful. If ever a kiss could change the course of my life, this one is it.

  Placing her hands on my chest, she pushes up, breaking the kiss and straddling my waist, just like she did the other night in my truck. I’m hopeful things will end differently this time.

  “There’s something I need to tell you first,” she says swallowing, and I’m afraid this is it, the breaking point where she gets scared and shuts me out. “I have scars. On my back.” Her hand drifts to where I’m assuming said scars are, and again, I try not to jump to any conclusions. She’s sharing a part of herself, something that obviously bothers her, and I refuse to make her feel bad about it. “And here,” she says, pointing to her thigh. “And here.” Her hand goes up to her chest and I cover it with my own.

  “I don’t care about any of that.” I tell her, my voice rough. “Scars or no scars, I want you.”

  When she takes off her top and tosses it to the floor, she takes my breath right along with it.

  She’s baring not only her body to me, but her soul.

  For a moment, I soak her in, devouring every inch of her I can see in the dim light. I want to tattoo this moment on my skin . . . in my heart . . . make it a permanent piece of me.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful.” My voice is strained, tense from the pounding in my chest, but I mean what I say. She is, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I’ve ever known—mind, body, and soul. And tonight, I’m making her mine.

  Sitting up, I pull her closer to me—her heat radiating to my cock—and kiss her, claiming her, begging her to be mine. I nip the delicate skin of her jaw, making my way down her throat and across her chest. When she arches her back, I suck one of her nipples into my mouth, rolling my tongue around the sensitive peak. Moving from one breast to the other and back, I continue to devour her until she’s gasping and writhing in my arms.

  “I need to know what you want,” I breathe against her skin, slipping two fingers beneath the elastic band of her panties. I’m dying to go further—feel more, take more—but I need to know this is what she wants. “I want you, Frankie. Please tell me you want me too.
”

  “Make love to me,” she whispers, and although it’s quiet and a bit hesitant, there’s a sureness in her tone that lets me know she’s ready. “Please.”

  Her choice of words does something funny to my insides, but I push that to the side. I’m not letting my brain get in the way of this moment. I’m finally about to be inside Frankie and she could be speaking Klingon right now and I wouldn’t really care.

  Finally, I slip my hand further inside her panties and my fingers are met with the most exquisite warmth and slickness. The fact that she’s wet and ready for me is enough to make me come, but when I push a single finger inside her pussy and she bucks against my straining cock, I’m a goner.

  This time, I’m the one who gasps, thrusting against her instinctively, ready for every barrier between us to disappear.

  “Lift up,” I instruct, pulling her panties down her legs and tossing them to the side. I discard my boxers as quickly as I can. When we’re both naked, I roll us onto our sides. There’s no power struggle here, there’s only the most intense connection I’ve ever felt in my life. It’s tangible. And feelings, so many fucking feelings I can’t even acknowledge right now, but they’re there.

  Grabbing her calf, I can’t help but relish in the way her skin feels beneath mine. So fucking good. She’s everything. Everything I wanted, everything I hoped she’d be, and so much more.

  Just as I’m getting ready to slip inside her and give us both what we need, what we want, I freeze. “Condom?” I ask, my heart beating wildly in my chest and my breaths already coming out labored from pure desire. “I didn’t bring one.”

  “I’m on the pill,” she says, her chest rising and falling with each breath. “It’s fine. Please.”

  Without another word, I lift her leg just enough to make room between her luscious thighs, then enter her completely in one swift thrust. She cries out, grabbing onto my shoulders and pulling me closer.

  “Fuuuuck,” I groan when she clenches around me. “You feel so good, Frankie. So fucking good.”

  “God, yes,” she moans. “So good.”

  I increase my pace, thrusting harder and harder until I know we’re both close.

  “Look at me,” I command.

  When her hooded eyes find mine, I lean forward and capture her lips, slowing my pace to stave off my orgasm and enjoy this moment with her. “Now, look at where we’re joined.” She does, and I follow her gaze, watching as I pump inside her.

  “This is us,” I pant, my speed increasing with the need building. “You. Me. Us.”

  My breaths are choppy as I continue, wanting her to know she’s mine and I’m hers.

  She groans, her head lolling back as my hands grip her hips tighter.

  “Tell me, Frankie. Tell me you feel this.”

  I probably sound crazy to her. Hell, I sound a little crazy to myself, but I’m desperate for her to realize how different this feels, how special this moment is, how special she is. More than anything, I need her to be on the same page.

  “Fuck, yes,” she breathes, bringing those gorgeous eyes back to mine. “I feel it, Gunnar. You. Me. Everything.”

  Her words spur me on, causing my hips to push harder. This position allows me to be deep inside her while hitting just the right spot for some delicious friction. Soon, we’re both chasing our release.

  A few minutes later, we come together, our bodies slick with sweat, spasming and pulsing as one until we’re completely spent.

  Chapter 18

  Frankie

  I wake with a start, the same dream I’ve been having for the past few weeks interrupting what might possibly have been the best sleep I’ve had in ages. When I try to sit up, a strong arm pulls me back against an even stronger chest.

  Gunnar Erickson is in my bed.

  We had sex.

  The best sex I’ve ever had.

  Giving in to his efforts, I sink back in the bed and close my eyes, breathing him in while I try to calm the erratic beating of my heart, partly due to the memories flooding back from the middle of the night and partly due to the dream I just had.

  His mouth finds my neck, sending chills up and down my spine.

  “It’s Saturday,” he announces, but I already knew that.

  I’m suddenly very aware of everything, actually. All five senses are firing on all cylinders. His musky, manly scent, with hints of his cologne, permeate my small bedroom. And us—the two of us mingle together for an erotic combination. There are hints of his taste lingering on my tongue. All I hear are his husky breaths and soft moans as he becomes fully awake. And I feel him—his strong arms and lips, as well as his erection at my back. I see him everywhere. Even when my eyes are closed, I still see him. Visions of last night come surging back with vivid images of his muscles flexing as he plunged inside me.

  I can still feel it—him. There’s a delicious ache between my legs.

  He’s everywhere, consuming every part of me—mind, body, and soul.

  And as wonderful as he is, I’m having trouble processing it all, compartmentalizing it—him. I was telling the truth when I told him he doesn’t fit into any one compartment. He takes over; fills in empty spaces. I love it, yet it scares the shit out of me.

  How can I let one person infiltrate me so completely?

  It seems reckless.

  Dangerous.

  Glancing over at the clock, I see it’s only a quarter until six. That might seem early to most people, but I’m up before six on a regular basis. If it’s not for work, then it’s for volunteering. On Saturdays, I set up at the farmer’s market. Except I didn’t make it to my mother’s this week, so I don’t have much to sell, not unless I make an impromptu trip out there.

  “I have to go,” I blurt, not loudly, but abruptly, causing Gunnar to tighten his grip. “To my mother’s,” I add, trying to soften the blow. “I didn’t make it out there on Thursday and I have nothing to sell this morning at the farmer’s market. Besides that, I need to check on her and this is my only opportunity. I have groceries for her.”

  My explanation is a bit of a ramble, and when I roll over to face Gunnar I see the concern on his face. “Want me to drive out there with you?”

  “Don’t you need to train?”

  His eyes roam my face before trailing down, settling on the base of my neck. When he reaches out to softly trace one of my faint scars, his brows furrow and I tense at his scrutiny, feeling the need to cover up. Last night, in the dark, as I was being swept away in the intense passion, I wanted him to see me, all of me. But this morning, in the light of day, I’m not so sure.

  “I’ve never shown anyone,” I start, drawing the sheet up to my chin.

  Gunnar doesn’t allow it. He gently pulls it back down. “Thank you for showing me. Thank you for . . . everything,” he says, his voice thick as he swallows, those sea-glass eyes coming back to mine. “Don’t ever feel like you need to hide from me, Frankie. I want to see every scar, know every secret.”

  “Why the frown?” I ask, reaching up to smooth out the skin between his brows with my thumb.

  “It’s not the scars.” Leaning forward, he places a kiss on the puckered skin. “It’s whatever caused them. I want to take it all away, avenge you, make all your wrongs right.”

  That admission makes me equally warm and cold at the same time. If I knew the wrongs that needed to be made right, it might not make me so anxious. But I don’t know, so how can I tell Gunnar? If I told him what little bit my mind has allowed me to see, it would sound crazy, possibly the overactive imagination of a scared little girl.

  I have no way of knowing what is true and what is make-believe.

  All the more reason I have to go see my mother—she owes me some answers.

  Sliding out from under Gunnar’s arm, I get a grunt of disapproval. “Don’t feel like you have to get up. I know it’s early, but if I don’t get out there now, I have no chance of making it back before the farmer’s market.”

  “It’s okay,” Gunnar says, a ring o
f disappointment in his tone. Climbing out of bed to stand in front of me, he takes me by my hips and turns me to face him. “As long as you don’t shut me out, I’m good with anything.”

  I fight back a small smile, because even though we’ve only known each other for a short time, he already knows me. He reads me . . . sees me, even through the walls I know I have up. I’ve worked hard on those walls and they’ve served me well, but when it comes to Gunnar, they’re useless.

  He makes me feel safe.

  He makes me feel everything.

  I don’t need walls when he’s around.

  “I won’t,” I promise. Even though I’m not one hundred percent certain I can keep it, I want to.

  Claiming my mouth, he steals my breath as he swipes his tongue across mine, making my belly tighten with need. When I wrap my arms around his neck, our bodies collide and I relish in the way his skin feels against mine.

  More, I want more, but I also need a chance to think and wrap my mind around this influx of emotions. Pulling back and breaking the kiss, I immediately regret it, but it’s what I need. When he’s kissing me, touching me, I forget everything else.

  He’s stealing more than my breath; he’s stealing my heart.

  “Meet me at the farmer’s market?” I ask, lacing my fingers with his. I hope he hears the unspoken words between that question: this isn’t over. I’m not running. I just need a minute to let my brain catch up with my heart.

  “Sure,” he says, averting his eyes. “Maybe I could cook you dinner later. If you want.”

  There’s the vulnerability that somehow looks so damn sexy on him. I can’t resist it—or him—when he exposes himself like that. “I’d love that.”