Page 46 of Give Me What You Will

“You’re being defensive because last night freaked you out,” Sammy explained logically, without an ounce of emotion. “You run when you get scared. Then double down and defend. That’s what you do. But you never once made a gay joke, never once made me feel ashamed or judged—until now.”

Frankie opened his mouth to reply and shut it, unsure of what to say.

He pulled into his driveway and opened the garage, and the second he put it into park, Sammy’s hand was on the door handle, ready to run again.

Frankie reached across him and slammed the door shut.

“Wait a goddamned minute, we need to talk about this,” he insisted, sitting back, angling his body toward Sammy.

“We already have.”

“No, we fuckin’ haven’t.”

He refused to let this go—refused to let Sammy leave, believing he was anything like his father. “I’m sorry, all right? Maybe I shouldn’t have an opinion on something I don’t fuckin’ know anything about.”

Sammy hitched his chin to the side, staring at him in open curiosity. “But you do know something about it, Frankie.”

“What—?”

Sammy reached between the space between them, capturing the back of his neck, fingers roughly spreading upward into his hairline. His thumb slipped behind his ear, swirling slowly, almost seductively. An unexpected shiver raced down his back, and he couldn’t fucking breathe with him this close.

“Have you ever wondered why I never touched you? Have you even noticed?” Sammy asked quietly.

He frowned, trying to think despite the muddle in his brain and the razor-sharp focus he had on the thumb that grazed the pulse on his neck. He suddenly realized with a jolt that Sammy had never once initiated the touch, certainly not like this, but not even in a playful way.

Frankie stared, eyes narrowed and searching, wondering why he had never noticed before.

“I knew that if I ever touched you, I would never want to stop,” Sammy admitted, his thumb swirling slowly through his hair, keeping him riveted to his seat.

A confident easiness had settled over Sammy after Papi died, after he moved, after he told Frankie the truth. He could see it now. Sammy was calmer with himself, more contained somehow. He liked this newfound confidence. The flirting, the banter, the touching…

Sammy’s expression darkened, his voice sparking across Frankie’s nerves like matches on a burner. “I want to touch every part of you… all the fucking time.”

Flames ignited through his bloodstream, erupting down his legs and straight to his stomach. The edge he was standing on was suddenly all too close.

“I want to smell the sweat off your neck. I want to feel the weight of your body against mine. I want to listen to you gasp my name… Because you will. You will…”

Frankie swallowed the lump in his throat, surprised by the certainty in his tone as his brilliant green eyes raked up and down his body as though he was the sexiest creature to ever sit beside him.

Jesus fuck.

“I want to watch you break for me,” Sammy continued in that husky drawl. “I need to see you cum for me like you did last night. It’s all I’ve thought about today. Because you were so… fucking… good at it.”

Frankie heard his own audible gasp, and Sammy’s free hand took that sound as consent, squeezing the muscle of his thigh over the fabric of his jeans. Harsh need strained his features, somehow making him even more fucking handsome.

“You’re gonna give me what you will, Frank. And then, when you’re ready, you’re gonna give me everything.”

Before he could process his words, Sammy was across the cab in an instant, fingers gripping his neck, yanking him into a crushing, heady kiss. His heart slammed into his ribcage, and he was paralyzed in his seat, feeling the force of the kiss through his soul.

Just like their first kiss.

The kiss that changed… everything. Not just his awareness that Sammy wanted him, but also him. Frankie wanted someone to kiss him just like this, the way only Sammy could. He bit back the urge to moan as Sammy hungrily, almost angrily, kissed the hell out of him.

And yet, he knew this was a test.

Sammy was proving a goddamned point in the most Sammy way possible. Because the man was mad and fuck me… he was a good kisser.

His lips slanted across his, tonguing the seam of his mouth. Frankie opened, and was instantly rewarded by his hot, probing tongue and a delicious groan that made his cock thicken painfully hard between his legs. That sensation, the tightening of his balls, the swoop of his stomach, made him jerk back, grabbing Sammy by the side of the face and holding him at bay.