Instead, her arms wrap around me as she sinks into the kiss, opening her mouth wider, stroking my tongue hungrily with hers. Now that I’ve had a hit, I can’t stop tasting her, drinking her in. My tongue runs along hers, hot and heavy, my body pressing her against the wall. Until suddenly her hands move to my chest, cutting through the cloud of lust as she pushes me away.
I back up with a pant. The pain in her eyes brings back some of my uneasiness.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s not that. I just…I can’t do this, Dante. I can’t hop in and out of your bed, not when I know I’m not the only one there. I know you’re with Jessica. And fuck if my self-esteem isn’t a complete joke at this point, but—”
“I’m not with Jessica,” I blurt. “I brought her back because…”
Because I’d wanted to make Frankie jealous. But now I can see how petty, how beneath me a move like that had been. How goddamned manipulative it was.
“…because?” Frankie prods.
“Because I needed help,” I finish. “You made so many changes—good changes—that I got overwhelmed. I’ve never really been the hands-on type with our employees the way you are, and as for managing inventory…I basically see it as a hassle and a chore.”
I’m a little surprised to realize that I’m telling the truth.
Looking into her eyes, I lay it all out. “I need you to come back to the winery. I need you in every aspect of my life.” I reach out for her once more, and she steps into my embrace. Nothing has ever felt more right. “Please, Frankie.”
Oh God, I’m really begging her.
“Please what?” she asks, still questioning it. And how could she not, after how I’ve treated her?
“Please…” I take a deep breath, my heart and mind at war, my sky-high, ironclad defensive walls battling the exact emotions I’ve spent my whole life working to hide, to bury, to deny. “Please let me love you,” I finally say, my arms wrapped tight around her. “I love you.”
Frankie puts a hand on my cheek, gazing up at me. Silently, she pulls out of my arms, and for just a moment I feel my world tilt sideways. She’s going to walk away, once and for all.
But then she takes my hand and leads me from the room, down the hall, to the staircase. Up the stairs, and into my bedroom. The second the door closes behind us, I swing her into my arms, melting at the sensation of her warm hand looping around the back of my neck. I can barely believe this is happening as I carry her across the room and set her gently on my bed.
“Tell me you want this,” I say, searching her eyes.
Solemnly, she says, “I want this. I wantyou.”
I kiss her as slowly as I can while stripping off her jacket and working at the front of her blouse, undoing one tiny button at a time. I don’t think I’ve ever taken the time to properly unwrap her before. Maybe I could get used to this kind of anticipation.
The zipper on her skirt comes down, the fabric easing over her thighs. My lips cruise her neck, her chest, her cleavage as I tug the blouse over her head, my nails skimming along her ribs when I reach behind her to unfasten her bra and slide it down her arms. I can’t stop kissing her, touching her, my lips and fingers seemingly registering her for the first time all over again.
She threads her fingers into my hair as we kiss. I see soft acceptance and heady eagerness in her eyes when I briefly pull away to undress. I had thought that angry, fiery Frankie was the best version of sex—but this completely willing, completely open Frankie is another level.
She holds her arms out to me as I settle between her open thighs and kiss the warm spot between her full, magnificent breasts. Then I take my time to lap and tug at her swollen nipples while cradling her breasts in my palms. The taste of her, sweet in my mouth, is like nothing else on earth.
“Dante.” My name drips from her mouth as she opens her legs and tips her hips, welcoming me.
I want to sink into her, but I’m not ready yet. Kissing my way down her body, I explore between her legs with my fingers. Parting her, tracing her delicate lips, making her gasp and squirm with need. I lower my mouth to taste her, my tongue skimming every seductive rise. Her breasts rise so perfectly as she arches her back while I lick her clit.
She tugs at me, moaning my name, urging me to move up and over her body. Then her hands wrap around my ass and she pulls me close, guiding me into her.
I sink right in, my cock as straight and true as an arrow finding its target, a groan escaping my lips as I drown in the sensation. She’s so wet, so fucking hot, and the way she’s digging her nails into my skin I can tell she wants me deep inside her, every last inch of me. Holy. Shit. I thrust carefully, afraid the potent pleasure is going to push me over the edge right away.
Her hips meet my every thrust, her soft, wet heat stroking me so good I feel like I’m losing my mind.
“Yes,” I breathe, gliding in and out, long and slow and so agonizingly gentle. “Yes, fuck, Frankie, yes.”
“You feel so good to me,” she pants.
“You’re perfect,” I tell her.
She slides her hands around to my hips, skimming them up my chest, around the back of my neck. She’s breathing even harder now, despite my slow pace—or maybe because of it.
