Page 69 of Vicious Games

Her body goes rigid. “That’s blackmail.”

“No… that’s negotiation.”

“It’s fucking sexual harassment,” she counters, brows raised. “Like that terminology better, asshole? What’s stopping me from telling Sister Margaretta you’re trying to take advantage of me?”

“For me to take advantage of you, you would have to be an unwilling party. And Frankie, by the way you let me kiss you yesterday, you’re fucking willing. You just don’t want to admit it yet.”

“God, you’re a conceited prick.”

“But am I wrong?” Her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t refute it either. “Besides, you’re not the only one who can tell Mother Superior a few things. I could tell her you kissed me first.”

Her eyes widen in alarm the minute the words fall from my lips.

Gotcha.

“You wouldn’t,” she all but stammers.

“Wouldn’t I?” I lean back against the couch, stretching my arms out lazily and giving her enough room to pull away from me at any time. “It’s up to you, Frankie. Your call.”

She chews her bottom lip, weighing her options, and asks, “How would this work?”

It’s hard to keep the smug grin off my face, but I manage.

Frankie might be teetering on the edge of saying yes to my plan, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t gladly rip me to shreds if I pushed the wrong button.

She’s got that fire-under-pressure energy, like a live wire wrapped in silk. Looks soft to the touch, but one wrong move and you’re fried.

Sure, we haven’t spentthatmuch time together, but I know her. She’s a spark trapped in a powder keg—too sharp to tame, too bright to ignore. Maybe that’s why I can’t seem to stay away. Perhaps that’s the reason I want to save her from herself.

“First, I tutor you, so you get your half of the bargain. Then I feed you so you don’t get in trouble with Mother Superior. And once you’ve been properly fed and tutored,” I say, trailing my fingers down her arm, “we move on to the second part of your education.”

“What if I don’t want to go any further than kissing?”

“Then we won’t.” I lift one shoulder. “But that means you’ll only have half the facts. Still, I’ll work with whatever you’re comfortable with. No pressure.”

She scoffs. “Funny way of saying that, considering I feel like you’re backing me into a corner.”

“I’m using leverage. That’s not the same.”

“From where I’m sitting, it sure feels the same.”

She shifts in my lap as if trying to make a point—hurt me, fluster me, something. All she does is remind me how fucking badly I want this to happen. How badly I want her. Even if it means being stuck in first base for the entirety of our so-called tutoring sessions.

“I could have all the leverage in the world, Frankie,” I say, keeping my voice low, “but if you really didn’t give a damn, none of it would work. No one can make you do something you don’t want to. So maybe the better question is,” I continue, tipping my head to the side, “do you want to?”

Her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink when it hits her—there’s nothing keeping her here. Not my hands. Not my arms. Just her. She’s been sitting on my lap this whole time out of her own free will. And it takes me saying it for her to realize it.

“If I’m going to agree to this,” she says, hesitating for a split second, “I need to establish some ground rules.”

It’s fucking hard not to grin like the devil himself when I see her resolve cracking.

“I’d expect nothing less from you.”

“Whatever happens in this apartment stays in this apartment,” she warns with a firm tone. “You can’t use anything we do against me. Or tell anyone about it—especially Sister Margaretta.”

I lift a hand. “Cross my heart.”

“And that includes your twin. Telling Enzo anything about this is off-limits, too.”

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