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“When you touch my body, I get lost in the moment,” I breathed between kisses. “Your lips tangled with mine drive me crazy.”
“Staying away from you is difficult. I wanted to barge into your bedroom and fuck you into the mattress. Then watch you orgasm while I filled your pussy with my come.”
I was so turned on I bit his lower lip. “You should have. All I have are my dreams of how I think you’d feel inside of me. In my dreams, you don’t fuck me from behind.”
“Kennedy,” he warned.
I was starving for his touch. I wiggled closer. His hands landed on my ass. My teeth clamped down on his bottom lip as my hand dropped to his lower back. Franco jumped back like I plunged a knife into his gut, breaking the hold I had on him. The metallic taste of his blood danced on my lips and tongue.
The microwave dinged, and I ignored it.
Franco smeared the blood over his lower lip with two fingers. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. “Take your food to your room,” he demanded.
“Why? Because you don’t want to talk about what happened to your back?”
“That’s correct.” His eyes were so cold.
“How did you expect to have a relationship with me? Shutting people out isn’t healthy.”
“Let it go,” he roared.
I stepped closer. “Do you think yelling will make me run away? Because it won’t. If you’ll only allow me to see your back in the dark, I’ll take it.”
His chest rose and fell as he slipped his fingers through his hair. “Kennedy, I’m an ugly beast.”
“You’re not.” I lunged for him, clinging to his muscled shoulders. His arms dangled at his sides. It was like he was dead inside.
My fingers inched toward the small of his back again. His skin felt like corded vines.
“That’s enough,” he bit out.
So many emotions flicked in his beautiful green eyes: rage, embarrassment, irritation, regret, hurt, and sadness.
Franco took a step back. “Goodnight, Kennedy.”
He vacated the room without finishing his ice cream.
I stood there a moment longer, frozen to the spot. After I cleaned up the kitchen, I took the soup to my room.
Slinking on the chaise lounge, I pondered on our interactions. When I brushed the glass out of his hair, I noticed his jaw twitched like it pained him to stand still under my touch. The other day I tried running my hands along Franco’s back. He ordered me to place my hands on the counter.
I slipped a spoonful of the hearty soup into my mouth, savoring the taste. It all made sense now. The reason he only fucked women from behind. He needed to be in control. He probably ordered them not to touch him. A smile lifted my cheeks. “He kissed me,” I said aloud as my fingers brushed my lips.
The way my body came alive against his bare chest. I couldn’t believe I told him I wanted him to fuck me in the middle of the night. This time, I was sober. As much as I desired him taking me, I didn’t want to face away from him. Relishing in the pleasure I’d put on his face made me wet. If he thought, he could have me and not give his all to us. Franco was mistaken. What was I saying? Us?
***P***
Midafternoon, I sat on the sofa in the study nose buried in a new romance novel I asked Bonnie to pick up.
After the night of my interaction with Franco in the kitchen, things were tense between us. We ate dinner together a few nights throughout the week when he wasn’t in meetings, making deals, or working on his computer program. We didn’t discuss what happened to his back. It was clear Franco, and I enjoyed each other’s company. The smile on his face when I’d eaten with him was infectious. He made me laugh every time we were together. I guess you could say I pulled back again. Instead of eating dinner with him, I reverted to raiding the kitchen in the middle of the night. Recently, I found a Slutty Vegan burger and sweet potato fries in the fridge.
The note on the container read: Bought your favorite burger.
Enjoy, Franco
Butterflies kicked up in my stomach.
I was falling in love with Franco. Hard. All I wanted were his hands on my body. However, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice our intimacy. Sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night and find Franco asleep in the chair. Each time I’d smile, then fall into a deep slumber. I felt safe in Franco’s presence.
