Page 1 of Craving Francesca

Prologue

Frankie

Holy shit, hewas hot.

I mean, I’d known it intellectually. It was impossible to miss the broad shoulders, deep brown eyes, and perfect ass. But up close? If he hadn’t been kissing the hell out of me, I would’ve been drooling.

Gripping his hair in my fists, I pulled him closer as my back hit the wall. His hands were everywhere. One of them wrapped around my thigh, yanking it up to his hip. The other pulled my hair, curved around the side of my throat, slid down my chest, and up under my tank top. My head was spinning, and I couldn’t tell if it was the tequila—I hadn’t had much—or the fact that he ticked every single one of my boxes.

“In,” he ordered, ripping his mouth from mine as he slid his hand away from my thigh.

I nodded, dazed, as he pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and opened the door to his room.

His skin was flawless. The sharp edge of his jaw was covered in a five o’clock shadow, but the rest of it was as smooth and clear and gorgeous. Leaning up, I pressed my mouth against the tendon on the side of his neck. Yeah, he tasted good there, too.

“Fuck me,” he muttered with a groan as he shuffled me backward into the room.

“Nice room,” I said breathlessly, glancing around me as he shut the door quietly behind us.

It might’ve been the most impersonal bedroom I’d ever been in. The queen-size bed was made, and it looked like it had been recently cleaned, so at least there was that. There was nothing on the walls. The top of the small dresser was empty. The floor bare cement.

“You in here to decorate?” he asked, sliding his cut off his shoulders.

“You need it,” I joked. “It looks like a serial killer lives here.”

“Been in a lot of serial killers’ bedrooms?” His lips twitched.

“Only one,” I replied, gesturing.

“I don’t live here,” he said, dropping to the bed to kick off his boots.

“Right,” I muttered, watching him closely as he tugged off his T-shirt. My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest. That beautiful skin was covered in tattoos.

“You changin’ your mind?” he asked curiously, bracing his hands like he was going to push himself back up.

I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me. I’d been doing this since I was sixteen years old. It wasn’t as if I was nervous. From the moment his hand brushed my ass the first time, I’d known that we were going to end up naked somewhere. That kind of chemistry was hard to ignore.

For some reason, the moment just felt…heavy.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” he said.

“Not yet,” I replied huskily, pulling my tank top over my head.

He let out a low sound from the back of his throat as I dropped it on the floor.

“Keep goin’.”

“Bossy,” I mumbled, reaching for the buttons on my shorts.

“You like it,” he replied, watching me closely. “Lose ’em.”

My hands paused, and he chuckled, reaching for me. His eyes never left mine as the tips of his fingers curled under the waistband of my shorts and jerked me forward.

My lips curled up at the edges as he deftly unbuttoned them without looking. Brushing my hands over his shoulders, I reveled in the muscles that shifted and flexed as he shoved the shorts down my thighs.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, pressing his lips against the skin just below the center of my bra as his hands slid around my hips, the pads of his fingers trailing lightly over the cheeks of my ass. “Goddamn.”

The moment he tipped his head up to look at me, I crawled onto his lap, and everything sped back up. My mouth found his as I ground down onto him. His fingers dug into the skin of my ass, directing the movement. I pulled the rubber band out of his hair. He unclipped my bra and tore it away. I completely lost my concentration and let my head fall back as my breasts pressed against his chest.

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