Page 62 of Say You Will

I’d believed myself as angry as I could be with Franki’s father. A full cup of cold-blooded, icy rage. Any more of his transgressions would pour over the sides. I was wrong, because I’ve leveled the hell up. The ice cracks, and beneath it surges molten hot lava. This man is why she called herself an ugly duckling that night. The parents who should have told her she was amazing were the very ones constantly working to undermine her confidence.

“She was never an uglyanything,” I bite out, losing the iron hold on my temper. “She’s a funny, intelligent, creative, thoughtful, beautifulperson. And she’s nobody’strophy,you—”

Franki rips the phone out of my hand, presses End Call, and throws it onto the bed.

I watch her, startled and wary, wondering where I went wrong and if I should protect my nipples. Then she grabs my shirt in both her hands, yanks me to her, and crashes her mouth against mine.

twenty

Franki

4 Minutes | Madonna, Justin Timberlake, Timbaland

Ishould have beensmoother about this kiss. More patient. This is awkward and . . .shoot. Our glasses scrape together and squish against our faces.

But the things Henry said have me overwhelmed with feelings that need an outlet.

Henry was acting to shield me from my father, and I know I should have been stronger on my own. I shouldn’t need help to handle the man. But having someone . . . Henry . . . here in mycorner feels so damn good. I’m not alone. I don’t have to do this myself.

At first, Henry was so cold with Jonny that I doubt most people would have even caught on to the anger riding him. Then white-hot fury had torn through his frigid calculation.

Henry said I was“a person”that night on the balcony too. He’d called me“fine the way you are.”In my insecure, wounded heart, I’d found it dismissive, but that’s not how he’d meant it.

Henry draws away from me, and I ease back, embarrassed by my enthusiasm. “Sorr—”

He doesn’t let me get my apology out. He’s too busy taking both of our glasses off, tossing them to the nightstand, then backing me toward the bed with his mouth on mine before I can finish the word.

He’s filling my senses, completely taking over, his enthusiasm more than a match for mine. Henry searches my mouth, as if he’s starving for me. It’s the most carnal thing I’ve experienced in my life.

He doesn’t act as if kissing me is a perfunctory task that must be performed in order to move on to the part where he tries to get me to take my clothes off. He kisses me as if he can’t bear to take his mouth from mine. His body is strong and hard. His hands are everywhere. My back. Easing under my pajama top.

What would happen if I gave myself over to him? Let go and put myself in those hands? That’s what I want. To stop the thinking and fighting and trying to protect my heart.

He’s touching my waist now.

Now, he spans my rib cage, thumbs tracing the undersides of my breasts.

Now, his hands are on my hips, fingers digging into my butt. Though, for all the frantic energy between us and all the hard strength in him, he remains gentle.

When I feel the bed against my legs, I hold onto his shoulders and ease down until I’m lying on my back with Henry lowering himself on top of me. He groans when our entire bodies line up against each other. With a roll of his hips, his erection nudges into the cradle of my thighs. Iwanthim to touch me. I’ll die if he stops. My hands in his hair, I shift and slide against him, rubbing on him like a cat.

He moves to kiss my neck, and I angle my head to give him access. His lips there, his tongue. His breath. Goose bumps and a pleasurable shiver take me, my nipples pebbling as a lush, molten, heat floods my pelvis.

My pajama top is rucked up, my abdomen bare. I need his skin against mine, but as I slide my hands to his waist, determined to start by untucking his shirt, a woman’s scream rents the air.

I freeze at the sound, but Henry explodes into action, rolling off me, grabbing his glasses, and heading toward the door in the space of a heartbeat. He spares me a glance. “Stay here.”

He’s gone before I even have time to close my mouth.

A virtual stampede is taking place in the hallway. Everyone is out there, talking and muttering about Louis Larrabie, and I’m not staying in this room just because Henry said,“Stay here,”the same way I’d tell Oliver to sit.

When I enter the hallway, I’m met by Sydney and Janessa, who are both fuming.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

“Even I can’t see what’s going on,” Janessa says, referring to her height. “The McRaes have formed a barricade in front of her door.”

“It sounds like Louis tried something with Bronwyn, which would be incredibly stupid of him, but I don’t know if he tried something. Or hetriedsomething,” Sydney says.

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