“Fuck, Tate. Fucking hell.” He pumped furiously and I lifted my hips to meet his. His body tensed, arms trembled, breaths blew heated and ragged into my ear. He collapsed on top of me and murmured, “My sweet, beautiful angel.”
* * * *
I woke some time later, wrapped in a layer of naked male and a heavy wool blanket. Awake, Franklin was a sight to behold, but asleep, holy heaven above, the man was downright angelic.
His full lips were slightly parted and still moist. His thick lashes fanned against his cheeks. No stress wrinkles. He appeared so much younger when he slept.
I stretched my neck and kissed him, savoring the softness of his mouth. He smiled, blinked his eyes open and sighed. “It wasn’t a dream.”
Was he for real?
His arm tightened around me, smashing my breasts against his chest. A whole new set of fireworks exploded in my gut.
Franklin let me go, sat up, and wrapped the blanket around me like a burrito. He turned to look at me with a smirk on his face and a smile in his eyes. “Romp-fest, huh?”
I smiled and batted my lashes.
“I’m down with that.” He brushed a finger across my cheek. “Let me start a fire. Gets cold in here at night. You hungry?” He rose off the couch, pulled his jeans on, then tugged his shirt over his head.
Food? I was pretty sure I’d never have to eat again. There wasn’t a thing in the world that would satisfy me the way Franklin did. “No. I’m not hungry. Can I help?”
He shook his head no.
I studied the fine male specimen moving about like a caveman, gathering wood, making fire, grunting from time to time. I could’ve watched him forever. Oh my, his form, his expressions, the way he dominated the room was more than a girl could handle.
“Is this your cabin?” I asked.
He poked at a log then glanced over his shoulder at me. “It’s mine. Do you like it?”
I sat up and pulled the blanket tight around my body. “I do. It reminds me of my dad. He loved to get lost in the mountains. At least twice a year, he’d sneak away to his hunting cabin for a week or so. I was never allowed to go with him. He said hunting wasn’t for girls.”
Franklin turned back toward the fire. He sighed and his shoulders slumped. “You miss your father?”
“Every day,” I whispered. I wanted to tell him how much he reminded me of Dad, but I didn’t.
“You two were close, weren’t you?” With a loud crackle, the fire roared, outlining Franklin’s body with a warm orange glow.
“He was a freakin’ superhero in my eyes. Overprotective as hell, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. How about you? Were you close with your father?” Since we were getting personal and stuff, it seemed a good time to dig.
“No. My dad disappeared when I was young.”
I tried to picture Franklin as a child, but failed. I could only see the virile, protective man who’d stolen my heart. “I’m sorry. Was it hard not having a father?” I cringed after asking the question. There was personal, and there was too damn personal. I feared I’d crossed the line.
Franklin remained silent while he stoked the flames, then rose and came to sit by me. “My mom struggled, didn’t date after my father left. Except for one man. I still remember the first time she brought him home. I was eight, I think. The guy was huge, and I didn’t know how to act around him. But, you know what? He squatted down to my level, made eye contact, held out his hand, and introduced himself. Showed me respect. We were the best of buds after that. He and my mom didn’t work out because she never got over the loss of my dad, but the guy stepped up and took me under his wing, mentored me. I’ve never met a better man.” Franklin’s eyes twinkled with unshed tears. Most men would be ashamed to cry. Franklin held my gaze until the emotion faded.
“I’d like to meet him someday.” I leaned my head on his shoulder.
“He passed away a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
So Franklin and I had something in common. We’d both lost the most important man in our lives. He was lucky. Not many men would step in to help a single mother raise her son, especially an ex-girlfriend.
Franklin’s chest rose and fell. Then he turned, lifted me onto his lap, and pulled the blanket off my naked body. “Let’s get back to that romp-fest, shall we?”
I laughed. “Can we try the bed this time?” I pried myself from his grip, stood, and offered a hand to pull him up.
He traced my body with a hungry gaze, his eyes resting between my thighs for an uncomfortable spell before finding my face. “You’re bleeding.”
Horrified, I looked down. It wasn’t time for my period.
A heated blush spread from my cheeks to my toes. “I told you, I haven’t been with anyone.”
This time, his face reddened. “Haven’t been with anyone in a long time, or haven’t been with anyone?” he asked, clasping his hands over the top of his head. “You told me you’ve had two sexual experiences.”
Oh crap. We were gonna have that conversation. I suppose I should’ve been more honest with him the first time. “What I said was, two sexual experiences with fumbling idiots who didn’t know what they were doing.”
“Meaning?” he asked with an irritated bite to his tone.
“Meaning, I didn’t actually have intercourse, per se.” I’d never felt more exposed in my life. Standing naked in the middle of Amish country with an I’m no longer a virgin neon sign flashing over my head would’ve been more bearable.
The cabin was dark, save the glow from the fire. Heat radiated against my backside but didn’t repel the cold. Franklin’s icy glare raked my body again and again. My muscles ached with the restraint it took to keep from running away. What did I do wrong? My sexual past, or lack thereof, should have absolutely no bearing on Franklin’s feelings for me. Right? Shit.
I held my palms up and shrugged my shoulders. “Look who’s speechless now.”
Unblinking, he shook his head.
The firelight danced in his retinas. I snapped my fingers in his face. “You okay?” I asked.
Franklin huffed, pushed himself off the couch, and scooped me over his shoulder as he stood.
“Are you a freaking barbarian? For crying out loud. Put me down.”
He smacked my bare ass. “Let’s shower.”
We squeezed through the tiny bathroom door and he plopped me on the cold tile floor. He shed his clothing and reached around me to turn on the water. I shuddered, not from cold, but the sight of his back as he stretched, the roll of his muscles as he moved. Yum. Yum. Yum.
“Does this place run on a generator?” I asked, realization dawning on me a little too late. I’d turned into a horror movie cliché—naive girl, dark woods, middle of nowhere, a man too good to be true. If that wasn’t a set up for a B-movie murder scene, I didn’t know what was.
He pulled me into the small space and chuckled. “We’re not that far from civilization. It just seems like it because it’s so well hidden. We have electricity.”
Franklin lathered the soap. As if he’d done it a thousand times before, he pressed his hands to my skin and washed me. It was more an exotic massage in a steamy, tiny, tiled room than a shower. He left no part of me untouched, unexplored. When it came time to wash between my legs, the place he saved for last, he knelt, paused for a deep breath, then lightly brushed a finger up and down my labia.
“Did I hurt you?” he whispered, raising his eyes, but not his face to me. “And don’t lie. Don’t ever lie to me again.”
Gulp.
“It hurt. But it was a good hurt, if that makes sense.”
He continued to stroke me with tender caresses. I slapped my hand against the wall to brace myself. His touch alone nearly brought me to my knees.
“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have…” He shook his head. “I can’t take care of you, or protect you if you’re lying or telling me half truths.”
I rubbed my free
hand over the top of his head. He closed his eyes and leaned into my palm.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “It happened so fast, I didn’t have a second to think about it. And to be fair, this is your fault.”
My knees buckled when he slid a finger inside me.
“My fault?” He grinned.
“If you weren’t so damned overwhelming, I might be able to think straight once in a while.”
He retreated, then pushed inside me again, rubbing and teasing with his gentle touch. Every part of me down there was tender. Franklin never stroked too hard. He worked with such precision, my body prepared for another joining with his. Then his lips latched on to my clit. Franklin didn’t mess around with foreplay. He sucked hard on my nub and curved his finger inside me. My body coiled then exploded in waves of excruciating pleasure. My muscles turned to mush, my bones to wet noodles. My legs trembled and threatened to buckle. Franklin removed his hand from between my thighs and gripped my hip to support me. His lips remained where they were, sucking, pulling, drawing every last quiver from my body.
I grabbed his head. “Stop. Please, stop. It’s too sensitive.”
He let go, kissed my belly on the soft spot above my patch of hair, and stood. With one arm around my shoulders and the other my waist, he pulled me against his slick body and pressed his erection between us.
I lifted my chin to taste his mouth. He kissed me soft and tender, not with the territorial ferocity I’d come to enjoy. Cupping my cheeks with both hands, he held me still and explored my lips, my tongue, my chin, then my nose. He cherished me with kisses that reflected love, not just lust.
I could feel his desire before, but now there was something more. The kind of something that led to a frilly white dress, a little yellow house with a white picket fence, and a party riddled with pastel baby decorations. For the first time in my life, I believed I could be one-half of a ninety-year-old couple helping each other along the sidewalk in super slow motion. I’d have the walker, and Franklin would carry the cane.
I relaxed into him, inhaled his breath, reveled in the flavor and scent that was so innately masculine and powerful.
Then Franklin shocked the shit out of me. He wrapped his arms around my head and neck, pressed my face into his chest and cried. At first, I’d mistaken his spasms for laughter. But no, he sobbed.
I coiled my arms around his waist and tried to breathe. It wasn’t easy with my face smashed between a solid pec and an iron hard forearm. Somehow, I managed to draw oxygen into my lungs. I’d never seen a man cry, nor imagined myself trapped in the arms of a naked man while he wept. But there I was, completely clueless. What was the proper etiquette for such a situation? I squeezed his middle, stroked his back, and waited for the convulsions to stop.
His words from earlier bounced to and fro in my head like a game of Ping-Pong.
God, I’ve waited so fucking long… You’re finally mine… I’ll die without you…
Had he actually said those things? Or had I been so sex crazed that his words jumbled in my head?
The things I know would blow your mind.
I didn’t know this man at all, did I? He could have brought me deep into the mountains to slice me into pieces and roast me with potatoes and a sprig or two of rosemary. Not a single being on earth knew where I was or whom I was with.
Not even me.
Silent and aloof, Franklin turned off the water, dried me, then himself, and led me to bed.
“Are we going to talk about what just happened?” I asked, irked by the unnerving quiet.
“I want to. Just need to find the right words, okay love?”
Love? That was the third time he’d referred to me as “love.” It pissed me off to no end that it made me feel soft and fuzzy every time—and I’d kept a tally.
I laid my head on his shoulder and twisted my fingers through the tuft of hair on his chest. The silence in the remote location, the place I would likely become a main course to a one-man meal, gnawed at my nerves and fueled my over-stimulated imagination. I concentrated on the loudest noise I could distinguish—Franklin’s heartbeat thumping into my brain, soothing and seductive.
I counted the beats, focused on the rhythm, then fell asleep craving juicy steak, roasted potatoes, and red wine.
Chapter 10
Grumpaluffagus and I trekked along the riverbed, slipping and sliding on the wet rocks. Up ahead, Wallace stood knee-high in the brisk current, flicking his fishing rod back and forth above his head.
I scratched behind my buddy’s ear. He nudged me with a massive shoulder and nearly knocked me on my butt.
“See that man?” I asked and pointed up the river.
Grumpy answered with a head shake and a snort.
“I do so despise him. He’s done some terrible, terrible things. Wanna know what the worst part is?” I unhooked the leash from his spike-studded collar. “He thinks he can get away with it because he has money.”
A string of drool dangled above my feet when he growled.
“Now he’s eating your yummy fish.”
Grumpy shook his head and bounced up and down on his mighty front paws, his snout curled in a snarl.
“He’ll be easy to catch, and I bet he tastes every bit as good as those scaly appetizers. Plus, you’ll have some bones to chew when you’ve finished your meal.” I ruffled the fur between his ears. “Now, be a good little teddy bear and eat that bad man.”
I patted the grizzly’s hindquarters, turned, and headed back down the rocky shore. I smiled when I heard a shrill scream, laughed out loud when a shredded pair of waders floated past me.
“Baby?”
A heavy hand shook me back to consciousness. “What’s so funny?”
Wow, that voice. What a way to wake up. I peeled my moist face from his warm skin. “Sorry. I was dreaming.”
“Must’ve been a good one.”
“It was.” One of the best yet.
He trailed a finger up and down the curve of my back. “Tell me.”
I buried my nose in his chest and shook my head. “You don’t want to know.”
“I want to know everything. Especially if it makes you laugh.” How did he always know the right thing to say?
“It was about Wallace.”
Franklin’s body tensed.
I smacked his chest. “I’ll tell you, but no judging, okay?”
“Cross my heart.”
I couldn’t believe I was telling somebody. “I dream about killing him. Almost every day. It usually isn’t pretty.”
“That’s why you were laughing?” he asked with a chuckle.
I nodded. “Warped, huh?”
“Just a little, Killer.”
“Killer? Ha! You’re funny.” I smacked his arm. “I fantasize about it at work, too. When I’m zoning out, and you have to yell to get my attention, I’m usually murdering him.”
“Huh,” he huffed. “Morbid, but kinda sexy.” He shifted to his side and molded my breast in his hand, pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. My breath caught and my hips rolled and pressed into him, seeking his skin, his heat…just him.
I pressed a finger to his lips when he leaned in for a kiss. “Nope. I spilled the beans. Now it’s your turn.”
He groaned and nipped the pad of my finger.
“You didn’t judge. I won’t either,” I promised and laid my hand over his heart.
“No one has ever given me a gift aside from my mother.” He pressed his forehead to mine. Tingles flittered across my skin.
“You gave me the most precious gift.” His voice thickened. “One I don’t deserve. I took it like a greedy son of a bitch. You can never have it back. It’s mine forever. It hit me in the shower, how fucking monumental that was…” He cupped my ass and ground me against his swollen cock. “I didn’t expect it. I was overwhelmed.” His lips tickled my cheek. “I just wish I’d known, I would’ve been careful with you.”
“It wa
s perfect,” I managed to mumble through the lump stuck in my throat. “And you’re perfect.”
“I’m not. God, I’ll never be good enough for you.”
That wasn’t the self-confident Franklin I’d worked side by side with for the past couple of months. He wasn’t the man who’d swooped down from his white cloud to cloak me with his protective shield. The Franklin, lying naked with me in the dark, seemed halfway real and for the first time…attainable.
I’d set him high on a pedestal, to worship and adore. So close, but forever out of reach. With the absence of light, when his unreal beauty couldn’t blind me, I saw the man inside. I liked what was in there. I liked it so much, my chest hurt.
“Let’s not waste any more time talking,” I said, sliding my hand down the bumpy muscles of his torso.
He gripped my wrist and stopped me. “I don’t want to hurt you. We should take it easy.”
“I’m a twenty-four year old virgin. Was a twenty-four year old virgin. I’m a freakin’ pressure cooker ready to blow. You can’t lay next to me all naked and muscular and super sexy and expect me to sleep. Come on. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
Franklin laughed. I loved his laugh. I loved making him laugh.
I didn’t know what hour of the night or morning it was, but by the time the sun peeked through the trees, I’d gained an intimate knowledge of my body. Franklin’s, too.
The drive home that afternoon was mostly a blur. We did stop to buy a new phone. Franklin insisted I get a new number and a whole new carrier. His, actually. The sex coma I’d been in the entire day prevented me from arguing. I’d change it later if necessary, when my thoughts weren’t inundated with visions of male body parts.
“Shall I stay with you tonight?” he asked when he pulled next to my car in the parking lot of his apartment. I knew it was more a statement than a question.
“Um, duh.” I stuck my tongue out and crossed my eyes.
He put the suitcase in my trunk and made sure I was belted in the driver’s seat before closing the door. “I’ll run upstairs, grab some clean clothes. Be right down. I’ll follow you home, don’t leave without me.”
How to Kill Your Boss Page 10