Page 78 of Vicious Games

I narrow my eyes at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means we covered a lot of ground today, but we’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“I think we’ve covered more than enough,” I grumble, squeezing my knees to my chest.

Lucky leans in, smirking. “Do you still want to be a nun?”

“Of course I do,” I reply without missing a beat.

“Then we haven’t covered enough.” His voice is smug, knowing. “Remember, you need all the facts.”

“Whatever. Take me home,” I demand, but Lucky doesn’t move. Instead, his hands cup my cheeks, his fingers warm, solid.

“No.”

“No?” I stare at him in amazement. “What are you going to do? Keep me hostage here to be your sex slave?”

“As tempting as that sounds, no.” He then pulls me in, wrapping his arms around me and holding me against him. “I’m not taking you home while you’re this upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Prove it.” His eyes glint with challenge. “Kiss me.”

I scoff. “I thought we skipped that stage already.”

“We’ll always be at that stage, Frankie. Now stop giving me lip and use that gorgeous mouth for what your God actually intended. Kiss me.”

As much as I’d like nothing more than to lose myself in his kiss, I can’t. I’m still mortified. Still reeling from what just happened.

But Lucky… he doesn’t look disgusted. Doesn’t look bothered in the slightest. If anything, he looks like he wants me even more. He always looks like he wants me.

“Kiss me, Frankie,” he repeats, his eyes so pleading that I can’t find it in me to refuse him.

So, I kiss him.

At first, I hold back, uncertain of how we could just move on from what happened.

But Lucky? Lucky never holds back.

His lips move over mine eagerly, his tongue teasing the seam of my mouth until I open for him. Blossom for him. And before I know it, I’m melting into him, drowning in him.

By the time he pulls away, I almost whine at the loss.

Almost. I’m not a child.

“There she is,” Lucky murmurs, his thumb brushing against my lower lip. “That’s my Frankie.”

I freeze.

My Frankie. Baby. Good girl.

Those were all the words he called me this afternoon.

I tell myself it’s just part of the game. Just part of the lesson. That I shouldn’t read into it.

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