She’d cried that day.
Tears pooled in her eyes as the world outside turned into a blur.
For the few minutes of the drive, she managed to keep it together.
When Bull let Gryff into the house, the dog was all wagging tail and little whines because she was upset. Burying her face in his soft fur, she hugged him.
“Come, Frankie. You’ll feel better once you’re cleaned up.” Bull helped her to her feet and took her upstairs to his giant bathroom. He turned on the shower, checking the temperature with a hand.
Unable to even think, she simply stood. But when he turned and studied her, she squared her shoulders. “I’m good. Really.”
“Yes, you are. You’re tough.” He dropped a light kiss on her mouth and left, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.
The sound of water reminded her that she’d really needed to pee for, like, forever. A minute later, she felt so much better.
In the shower, the hot water ran over her, sluicing away dirt. Despite the stinging of her burns and scrapes, she washed and shampooed until the clean, crisp scent of Bull’s soap replaced the stink of smoke. And she felt…better, like she was getting things under control.
Wrapping a huge towel around herself, Frankie stepped out of the big shower stall and found Bull leaning against the counter. Clean and in fresh clothes, he must have taken a shower downstairs. She pulled the towel tighter. “I’m not dressed.”
His firm lips edged upward. “I hate to tell you this, Ms. Bocelli, but I’m pretty sure I’ve not only seen everything you’ve got—but nibbled on it, too.”
He had, of course he had, but that was then. Things were different now. So horribly, sadly different. She shook her head at him.
His black eyes softened to liquid night. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He ran his hand over his shaved skull. “However, we need to get those burns and scrapes taken care of, and there are some I don’t think you can reach.”
“No, it’s me who’s sorry.” She looked down. Along with the dirt, it seemed her energy had washed away in the shower. “I appreciate everything you’ve done. I don’t mean to act like you’re some bad guy.”
She blinked hard as a lump filled her throat. Cazzo, not again.
His callused hand cupped her chin, and he lifted her head. Saw her eyes swimming in tears.
“Hell.” Very, very gently, he pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest, all his virile power shut down for the moment. “You sure had a crappy day.”
The sympathy in his dark, deep voice was too much. Her shoulders started to shake as she battled the tears—and lost.
She cried, big noisy sobs, as he held her, stroked her hair, and told her she was brave. That she’d be fine. That she was safe. With him. Low, quiet murmurs. Impossibly solid strength. And warm arms around her.
Why did he have to be so truly kind?
She dragged in a breath and another before pulling back. He released her immediately.
“I… Thank you. I needed that, I guess.” She had. Her head no longer felt as if it was filled with molasses. The weight was gone from her chest.
Unfortunately, the damage to her skin hadn’t disappeared. The shower had irritated all the scrapes and blisters until everything burned and stung. “Can we…?” She motioned to the assortment of first aid supplies laid out on the counter as tidily as in an ER.
“That’s the plan. After that, I have a Pinot Noir from Oregon you might like. We can sit and settle.” He made a motion with his finger—turn around—and she faced away from him.
Moving the towel off her upper back, he tended the scrapes on her shoulders, upper back, and upper arms. Going down on one knee, he spread the ointment on her raw butt, upper thighs, and hips. How did such a big man have such gentle hands?
“I asked Audrey for her baggiest sweatpants.” He turned Frankie around to face him. “She thought you probably wear about the same size.”
Frankie nodded. They both possessed ample hips and ass. “Sweatpants sound good.” She hissed as he applied a burn gel to the scorched blisters down her left side.
“Wear this, too.” He drew one of his T-shirts over her head. It was so old the fabric was worn to softness.
“Thank you.” She managed to smile at him.
“I like seeing you in my clothes.” From the counter drawer, he pulled out her little bag with overnight items in it—deodorant, comb, toothbrush. Touching her cheek gently, he smiled and withdrew.
She stared after him and realized she was all right again. His concern and care had eased the hollow place in her center.
Usually, she was the person everyone relied on for calm and for fixing problems. She was strong because if she broke down, none of her diva-filled family could take her place.
Wasn’t it amazing to be able to lean on someone?
She gave her head a shake. Don’t get used to it, Frankie.
But…just for tonight, she’d let herself indulge.
After gathering blankets, wine, and glasses, Bull went out onto his deck. Frankie would come when she was ready. Damn, but it was difficult to know when to push and when to back off.
Then again, except for times like now, she was up-front about what she wanted. It was just one more thing he liked about her. Some men enjoyed shy women. Quiet Audrey was perfect for Gabe who found her reserve an intriguing challenge.
Bull preferred Frankie’s openness. With her words, with her body language, she…shared. What she felt was what she said. If someone screwed up at work, she let them know—however tactfully. If they did good, she told them that, too.
In his arms, in his bed, she told him what she wanted.
He settled into a chair with a weary grunt. The mournful wail of a loon drifted across the lake. The cool air held the moist scent of the lake shallows. Hidden behind a bank of fog, the sun was already topping the mountains to the east.
The sliding glass door opened, and Frankie stepped out, wearing his old T-shirt, the loose sweatpants, and the thick, fluffy socks he’d left on the counter. Her almost dry hair tumbled down her back. She’d found the hair dryer Audrey had lent him.
Sitting in the single chair across from him, she ignored the blanket and set her hands on her knees. “I’d like to…” Expression serious, she shook her head. “This is difficult.”
Leaning forward, Bull took her hand. “Spit it out, sweetheart.”
“Tonight, at the roadhouse with Nabera, I didn’t want to flirt with him. Letting him touch me…” She swallowed. “I almost puked. I felt guilty because you’re right. We have something between us, and even knowing it has an end date, we’re together. Messing around with other people would be wrong—and I’d be upset with you if you did it.”
It wasn’t easy, but he stayed silent. Just nodded. The relief that she was willing to talk, to share, felt as if a bomb had been dismantled.
She shoved her hair out of her face. “When I was in bed earlier, I worked out this whole explanation, only now I can’t remember it. What am I missing?”
“Perhaps the reason you let him touch you?”
She winced. “Right. I can’t tell you. I want to, but what I was doing was… I guess I can share that I was trying to get information from the PZs. For a friend.”
“A friend.” As worry exploded inside him, Bull kept his voice even.
“I sound insane, don’t I? I’m trying to help a friend, and it’s not my secret to share, and I know it’s not fair to you. But…I won’t flirt or anything like that again. It feels too wrong. And horrible.”
Frustration, remorse, and unhappiness were all too evident in her face.
As Bull studied her, any lingering anger fizzled and died. “I’m surprised Nabera could be taken in so easily.”
“I’m not one to hide my feelings, but I do know how to play a role, at least for a short time. All Mama’s children learned that.” She pulled in a breath, straightened, raised her chin, and transformed into a cool, self
-possessed, unapproachable woman. “This is the businesswoman face I wear during meetings.”
With another breath, she dropped years to appear both innocent and vulnerable. “This is what I showed Nabera.”
For fuck’s sake. “Bet that façade gave Nabera a hard-on.”
“You’d be right on that count.” Disgust slimed every word. Dropping the mask, she was his Frankie again. “I guess I’m not all that honest.”
Her lying was for a friend. That changed things. As for her emotions… “Who are you pretending to be when you’re role-playing?”
She nodded. “In hostile meetings at work, I’m pretending to be Mama—who can be a real ice queen. For the PZs, I acted like one of my younger cousins who just turned sixteen.”
Yes, that would get Nabera’s attention.
Her nose wrinkled. “Never again.”
Bull smiled slightly. She was as transparent as he’d thought. When she pretended to be someone else, her eyes changed and grew distant. Because it wasn’t her.
He squeezed her fingers. “Have you ever assumed a role with me?”
“No.” She frowned. “Not a role. When we met, I wanted to slap your face because I thought you were a total bastardo—and I hated that I noticed how sexy you were. I didn’t want you to see that I was attracted to you.”
Yet she hadn’t been able to hide it completely. The spark had been there, beneath the simmering anger in her gaze.
He leaned forward and took her lips in a slow, soft kiss. “Thank you for the honesty and the explanation.”
Her eyes gleamed with tears, and she swallowed.
“Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I just…I hate that I can’t tell you everything and I didn’t think you’d forgive me and that you’d hate me and I couldn’t stand that.” A tear ran down her face.
Hell, she was going to smash his heart into little bits.
Unable to help himself, he plucked her from her chair and moved to the double Adirondack chair so he could have her in his lap and cuddle. “We’re good. I’m not angry. Or upset.”
Her breathing held tiny sobs as she tried to keep from crying.
Here was the downside of a woman who didn’t hide her emotions. There would be tears.
Far better than lies.
So, he held her, enjoying how she fit on his lap, how she was small enough that their heads were almost even, and he could rub his cheek against her damp one.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Forgiven.” He kissed her again, trying to convey how he felt. That she was cared-for, safe, wanted.
When she relaxed, he shifted her so she could sit beside him, then curled her fingers around a glass of wine. In his shirt and the fuzzy socks, she was fucking adorable.
Catching his smile, she glanced down at herself and smiled ruefully. “Nothing like being braless and scruffy.
“I was just thinking how beautiful you are, no matter what you go through.”
She made a scoffing sound. “I’ve been around the modeling business since I was born. My siblings are gorgeous. I don’t make babies cry, but there’s quite a gap before men will be falling at my feet.”
She looked up at him, melting brown eyes framed in black lashes, the curve of her cheek heartbreakingly lovely as she smiled.
He could only stare in bemusement that she was so clueless about the basics. Finally, he touched her chin, resting his thumb on those full, incredibly kissable lips. “On cold, hard photographs, you might not have the draw of your siblings and professional models. In person… Frankie, beauty isn’t restricted to two dimensions. It encompasses more than high cheekbones and perfect hair. When your eyes, possibly the loveliest eyes I’ve ever seen, hold laughter, everyone around you smiles. When they hold sadness, you take everyone with you.
Those perfect eyes widened in surprise.
He smiled. “Your voice makes me think of soft blankets and the warmth of a fireplace on a drizzly cold evening.”
Her eyes started to gleam with tears.
No, that wasn’t what he wanted. He squeezed her waist. “Your body makes me think of…” He skimmed his thumb over her full lower lip and felt it quiver. “Of stripping you right down to bare skin and discovering every dirty thing I could do to you.”
As hoped, she burst out laughing. “You…you’re such a man.”
He grinned, because she was the type of woman who would laugh at her lover saying things like that.
And her lover was exactly what he intended to stay.
A light wind off the lake ruffled her hair and clothes, and she caught the scent of smoke, unsettling her. “Um, Bull. Why are we outside?”
It was relatively warm with the temperature in the high forties. “After battles, it takes a while to settle.” Bull picked up the soft, plush blanket he’d brought out before. After wrapping it around her, he pulled her against his side. “I’ve found that sitting outside or by a fire helps.”
“You’ve fought a lot. I mean, yes, I knew that, but I didn’t know it. That guy tonight had a knife, and you didn’t hesitate.” She frowned and made a tossing gesture. “The way you just threw the other man to Gabe was crazy.”
Bull shrugged. “My brothers and I were fighting as a team even before our teenage years. I learned to toss one or two to whoever was bored.”
“Bored,” she said under her breath. “You seem like such an easy-going guy, but you’re a lot scarier than I realized.”
That sounded half complimentary and half worried. “I’m very easy-going,” he said firmly. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, without a doubt…Skull.” She snickered and wiggled closer until her ultra-soft breasts pressed against his side.
His dick hardened to discomfort. “Now, sit here—stop making me hard—and just breathe. Listen to the sound of the wind. During the quietest nights, you might even hear the stars sing.”
With a sigh, she leaned her head against his shoulder.
Overhead, a few clouds drifted over the brightening sky. The smell of lake water and plants held a touch of the acrid smoke of the fire.
In the forest surrounding the Hermitage, leaves rustled softly, branches squeaking with the gustier breezes.
Farther from the grassy courtyard, a patch of horsetails sighed in the wind. When camping with Mako, they’d eat new horsetail shoots like asparagus—and use the stringy older plants to scrub the tin dishes.
Birds twittered and sang. In the dark lake water, a fish surfaced with a quiet splash.
Frankie’s breathing slowed. Her body grew even softer as the tension drained from her.
Eventually, she stirred. “I better get to bed. Tomorrow will be a mess. Shopping, replace my license and cards, find a place to stay, and—”
“You’ll stay here. With me.”
“For tonight.”
“For the rest of your time in Alaska.” Which he was very much hoping would be longer than a couple of months.
“What? No, I couldn’t.”
“Sure, you could.” He smiled down at her concerned expression. “I’m not being all that selfless, Frankie. Since I’m not sure why you’re here, I can’t know when you might decide to leave.”
Ah, that made her tense up again. Apparently, she didn’t know the date she would leave, either. She was operating on someone else’s timetable—the friend.
For fuck’s sake, he needed to know more. But…loyalty to a friend was something he respected.
“I’ll sleep better if you’re here and protected.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “And I wouldn’t mind spending more time with you. More than we’ve had so far.”
There it was—the same desire in her beautiful eyes.
He took her hand and kissed her palm. “Say you’ll stay here, Frankie. No strings. I’ll help you find a place if it doesn’t work out.”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I want to stay, too.”
“Let’s call it a night.” He rose,
took her inside—and took her upstairs to his bed.
* * *
They’d never made love so very slowly before. Oh, Bull usually took his time; in fact, he loved making her come first, sometimes several times, before he finished.
But now, he moved at an incredibly slow, heartrendingly sensuous pace. Even as he kissed her, he’d pressed a palm against her pussy. As he moved down to her neck and his lips started to brush over every inch of her skin, his fingers teased her clit. Slowly. Rousing her even as he licked and suckled her nipples. He nibbled on the undersides of her breasts, her belly, avoiding burns and scrapes, then he moved down her legs and back up.
His fingers never stopped circling her, and as she arched and came so sweetly, he never stopped kissing her. Calves, thighs, belly, breasts, her face.
His fingers found her core again. Began to arouse her. To drive her steadily toward another peak.
Her hips strained upward. “Bull…” She wasn’t sure if she was protesting or—
“I love you, you know.” He kissed her gently, his fingers on the center of her. “In case you haven’t figured it out.”
Joy filled her…and then she shook her head. It couldn’t be true. “It was a scary night. You won’t feel the same tom—”
He chuckled. “Woman, I’ve felt this way for a while. I love you.”
“You…you…” How could she think? She stared at him, saw his slow smile as he shifted, pressed his cock at her entrance, and ever so slowly filled her. All the nerves inside her sparkled like the stars they’d watched earlier.
Her hands slid over his rock-hard biceps, over the striated deltoids, and to his muscled back.
His black-as-sin eyes held hers. “Tell me, Frankie.” His voice dropped, lower, the order inescapable. “What do you feel for me?”
“I love you.” The words were out, impossible to recall. And she’d spoken a truth she couldn’t deny. “I didn’t want to love you. I don’t want to.” She glared at him.
What You See: Sons of the Survivalist: 3 Page 24