Page 41 of Frankie and the Fed

Four big steps are all it takes for me to reach her, and I grab her arm firmly.

A look of shock takes over her face, and the pupils in her crystal blue eyes widen. She didn’t expect me to accost her, and I take advantage of that by pulling her after me into the office before she can resist. Before the photographers notice us.

As soon as we walk in, she shakes her arm free of my hold. My fingerprints appear in red marks on her white skin. Fuck. I didn’t mean to hold her so tightly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She puts a distance between us and takes an aggressive posture.

God, she is so beautiful. More beautiful than I remember. The mounds of her breasts rise and fall rapidly with her breaths. I can’t think. What was I going to say? “What are you doing here?”

“Olive invited me to cover the event.”

“Why? You’re not a writer or photographer.”

“How do you know what I am?” Her eyes narrow to thin, blue slits.

Shit, she caught me.

“You have no right to be here.” And to look like that, like the angel in my dreams.

“What? I have the same right as anyone else. I have an invitation from Olive. It’s her business, and she can invite whomever she wants. I can’t believe what audacity you have. And to think that I was afraid to come here because of you.”

Her angry speech wakes up my cock. Damn it.

“Get out of here now.”

She gasps. “I’m not going anywhere. Olive wanted me to be here, and I came here for her.”

“Go, or...”

“Or what?” Her chin rises in defiance, and that’s all I need to break down.

She’s in my arms, and I stroke her mouth. Forcing her to open her lips and accept me as I kiss her violently. She’s perfect. Totally perfect. I’m the damaged one, the broken one, but I have no control. I have to have her mouth, have to taste her.

And God, she’s so delicious I can’t stop. She doesn’t stop me, either, but even if she tried, I’m not sure I could survive it. I draw her into me. Her body fits mine exactly. Every curve and arch merges with the hard lines of my body.

My cock is hard like a rock now, after months of barely being able to get it up, and I know she feels it against her stomach. I hold her tighter, closer—I have to be inside her now. Nothing else is enough. Nothing else comes close to it.

It’s like someone woke me up from a deep sleep, and now, now I can’t get enough.

CHAPTER18

Ayala

His tongue circles inside my mouth. What is he doing?

My body knows him and reacts instantly. I melt into him. Shit, this is not what I meant to happen.

On the advice of my psychologist, I was supposed to take advantage of today’s event to deal with Ethan to understand that he is only a man. An ordinary man and human. Not the god I made him out to be in my imagination. But right now, he sure feels divine.

I prepared for this moment in a guided imagery session, but at no point did this happen. At no point did Ethan kiss me.

I know I should stop him, keep him away from me, but I don’t want to. His mouth, the taste of alcohol, his cock hard against my body. He feels too good. Too right. Too arousing.

His hand is under my skirt, moving up my thigh. An involuntary sigh escapes me. What the hell am I doing? I come to my senses and push him away.

He’s standing there, panting, his eyes wild and dark with desire. He’s thinner than I remember, much thinner. But still looks like a god, and damn, he still holds my heart. I haven’t gotten over him at all.

I want to reach out to him, to touch him, to check his body for wounds, to see that he’s healthy and whole right here in front of me, but I can’t.