Page 48 of Christmas in Coconut Creek

“I don’t break my promises.”

Frankie ran his hand up my arm softly and then threaded his fingers around the base of my neck like a collar. My heart boomed rapidly against the heat of his palm.

“Promise me something, then?” He twisted me carefully so that his lips were inches from mine and when he spoke next, I could feel the silhouette of the words against my trembling mouth. “The first time I make you come tonight, you’ll look me right in my eyes and say, ‘Thank you, Frankie.’”

I pressed up onto my toes and closed the gap between us immediately, diving tongue first through his parted lips. Frankie reacted with a smug smile that I could feel as he kissed me back. Our teeth clashed, and his fingers around my throat tightened like a pressure band.

I had kissed plenty of men before, but not one compared to the tender intensity of this one. Frankie claimed without even trying to. We mimicked each other perfectly; when I went high, he went low. I gasped and he swallowed. He licked and I moaned around the taste of his tongue.

Frankie’s hand not holding me flush to his chest dipped down to the apex of my shorts, rubbing languidly against the zipper, toying with the brass button. I could feel him hard and ready, so little material between the satisfaction we both wanted.

“We have to talk,” he murmured.

“Right now?” I asked breathlessly. What the fuck did he want to talk about so badly it couldn’t wait past an orgasm or two?

“Right now.” He nibbled on the lobe of my ear, and a warm current buzzed beneath my skin like lights on a Christmas tree. “Because it’s the difference between what I’m doing to you at the moment and what I’m going to be doing to you next.”

“How about a little incentive?”

Jesus Christ, who am I?My body had apparently been abandoned and occupied by the Ghost of Horny Holidays Past.

A short, amused scoff left his throat. “Why don’t we play teacher, Ms. Brody? Where I pull these shorts down and give you averyextensive lesson in anatomy.” His fingers found their way between my legs.

“What warrants extensive?”

“Touch.” He squeezed me there. “Taste.” Then licked my lips.

“Start talking, Casado.”

He looked like he would kiss me again, just as a door clamored shut down the hallway.

“Cookie time!” Mateo’s burly voice announced.

I instinctively pulled away from Frankie and curled into myself, swiping my bottom lip with the back of my hand just as both our friends bounded down the hall together. Frankie glared at his roommate as Mateo weaseled to the island with the baking supplies and started opening bags of chocolate morsels.

“I thought you guys were having a date night.” I cleared my throat to hide the octave of arousal. Putting several steps of distance between myself and Frankie, I joined Nat at the oven where she was setting it to preheat.

“You don’t get this ass from eating grass all day, honey,” Mateo answered, pointing to his rear and shoveling a handful of holiday candy into his mouth.

“Give me that.” Frankie aggressively swiped the bag from his best friend’s hand and tossed it back on the table. Annoyance was not only apparent but prevalent as he sulked to the cupboard and pulled out a cookie sheet.

Mateo glanced between us with a grin curling his lip. “Are we interrupting something?”

“No,” I said at the same time Frankie answered, “Yes.”

Nat hid a smirk behind a pair of oven mitts.

“The more the merrier,” I quickly continued. “Now it’ll only take half as long.” I grabbed the pan from Frankie, pleading with him with my eyes to behave.

His knuckles brushed over mine as I stared at him. “You’re killing me, woman.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m killing me, too.”

15

Thegirlsshouldhavetaken over the baking from the start. Mateo and I had never cooked a dessert from scratch a day in our lives and despite being amply skilled in assembling weapons, measuring sugar and melting butter without burning it was proving slightly more difficult.

An hour later the dough for the first batch of cookies was only finally being whisked together, I’d watched Mateo eat more chocolate chips than had even gone into the batter, and my shorts were covered in flour. It was all over my hands and undoubtedly my hair where I had a habit of running my fingers through it. But I was determined to bake those cookies if it was the last fucking thing I did that night. All while hoping eagerly that it wasn’t.

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