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Frankie frowned, his dark eyes scrutinizing me. “Alone?”
I hesitated, closing the door behind him. “Bones walked me back.”
He followed me into the kitchen, where I busied myself making coffee. “And then?”
I swallowed hard, unsure of how much to reveal. I never lied to Frankie. He was the one person in my life to whom I never had to.
“And then what?” I asked evasively.
He leaned against the counter, watching me as I poured water into the coffee maker. “Did you fuck him?”
“Why are you here asking me this? Why do you care?”
“You know why I fucking care. I told you to stay away from him.”
I turned to face him, my back against the counter. “I’m a grown woman, Frankie. I can make my own decisions.”
He took a step toward me, his eyes blazing.
“I’m not yours. You’ve made that clear,” I challenged.
He reached out to my neck, taking hold. “You are. You know it.”
He pulled me closer, our chests touching as he looked down at me. His heart was beating rapidly against mine, mirroring my own racing pulse. He was right. I belonged to him in a sick and twisted way, even if neither of us had ever said the words out loud.
“Why do you think I’m here?” His voice was low and gravelly. “I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about him and you together.”
“Because it turned you on?” I swallowed hard, his grip on my neck tightening slightly. I should be scared, but instead a thrill ran through me. It was a dangerous thrill, one that could only lead to trouble, but I couldn’t help the way my body responded to him. “The idea of him fucking me, turned you on. Admit it.”
Frankie narrowed his eyes, and for a moment, I thought he might let go of me. But then, he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. “You should have allowed me to watch.”
I gasped at his words, my heart pounding. “You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
“Yes,” he growled, his lips brushing against my ear. “I would have loved to see you come apart under his touch, knowing that you were mine.”
His grip on my neck loosened, and he traced a path of fire along my skin and down my body. I shivered at the sudden surge of desire coursing through me.
“How can I be yours and his and?—”
“Lotto’s?” he answered for me. “I’m not blind. I see how he looks at you, too.”
“Are you mad?”
“So fucking mad. Furious.”
He pulled me closer, his lips finding mine in a fierce, hungry kiss. I kissed him back, my own desire matching his.
Frankie’s kiss was overwhelming, consuming me with a passion I couldn’t resist. He tugged at my clothes as if he couldn’t wait to touch my bare skin. I responded in kind, exploring the contours of his muscular chest and back.
I broke away from the kiss. “What are we, Frankie? What does this all mean?”
This was a conversation that would lead nowhere. Frankie and I didn’t have these conversations. We didn’t discuss our future or define our actions. We weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend; we weren’t lovey-dovey. When he’d told Bones that I didn’t belong to anyone last night, it had gutted me. I had always believed one thing.
I belonged to Frankie in our own fucked-up way.
Whatever we were. That fact remained. I was his. He was mine. The rest, however, was a muddy mess.
Frankie’s eyes softened, and he rested his forehead against mine. “It means we can’t stay away from each other, no matter how hard we try. It means we’re drawn to each other, like magnets. It means we belong together even if we can’t define what together means.”
I looked up at him, my body tensing. “And Bones and Lotto? Where do they fit in?”
I held my breath, praying he wouldn’t demand that I choose. I didn’t know what I’d do if he asked that of me. I didn’t want to.
Frankie sighed, his breath warm against my face. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”
He started toward the front door.
“Wait,” I called out, following him. “Where are you going?”
He turned to face me, his hand on the doorknob. “I don’t know.”
Chapter 22
Frankie
“You stupid motherfucker. I told you to stay away from Ari. What part of that did you not understand?” I charged toward Bones, who was working the punching bag. His hands were wrapped.
Good. He was ready for an ass-beating.
It was early, so no one would arrive in the gym for hours still. Bones was the only early bird in the group.
The gym echoed with the dull thud of my boots as I closed in on him. He stopped his workout, the punching bag swaying slightly from his last hit. Bones turned, his eyes narrowing as they locked on mine. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face, but his breath was steady.
