Page 27 of Love You A Latte

“Well?” I say when they hang up.

“He said to come by tomorrow, that he’d like to see the letters and try to get a fingerprint off them. Either way, he said it doesn’t look good for Derek, and we can talk over some options tomorrow. I guess they’re keeping him overnight at the very least, since I pressed charges.”

“Good,” I nod, satisfied for now.

Frankie gathers the letters and stacks them with their respective envelopes, touching them as little as possible now. The silence stretches between us, and every time they move, their leg rubs against mine.

Skin on skin, I can feel the heat of them, and my eyes drop to trace the line of their bare leg against mine. Their caramel-brown skin looks so soft, I ache to touch it. To trace the tattoo winding up their calf, to explore the hint ofone I can see peeking out from the hem of their shorts.

My eyes trail up their body, taking in their muscular form and slight curves, until my gaze snags on their eyes. They’re watching me, and my breath catches at the heat I see reflected back at me. Their hazel eyes look darker, here on the couch in their loft apartment, just the two of us in the quiet of evening.

A pulse of desire makes my heartbeat trip, and somehow I think they can sense it. Their eyes are burning, taking me in, observing every tiny response I make to them simply watching me. My eyes snag on their lips, their full, dark lips, slightly parted and slowly curling up on one side.

I know they’re smirking, perhaps satisfied with the easiest seduction of their life. I don’t care. I also know we’re both full of tension, from the events of the last two days, but also from this attraction that’s been growing between us.

I close the space between us, my eyes fluttering shut at the first sensation of their soft lips against mine. Frankie doesn’t hesitate, either. As soon as I move, they meet me, with their hands gripping my hips and pulling my whole body closer, melding our chests and tangling our legs. My hands fly to their hair and I tangle my fingers in their loose curls, anchoring myself to them as our tongues dance and explore.

Frankie’s mouth moves to the side, and they nudge my jaw up with their nose as they trail kisses down the curve of my neck. They lick behind my ear, then suck my earlobe into their mouth, and I ignore the whimper that slips from me at the sensation.

I feel them grin against my skin, and my hands grapple for purchase. I rake my fingers down their back, wishing I had skin under my palms instead of cotton, so I seek out the hem of their shirt and slip my hands beneath.

A huff of air escapes their lips, puffing against the curve of my collarbone when my fingers trace up their spine, pulling their shirt up as my hands explore. I want to see them, and I lean back, tugging on their shirt.

“Can I take this off?” I whisper, relishing their flushed cheeks. I’m sure mine look the same.

They nod, but don’t wait for me to do it, grabbing the hem and yanking it off themselves.

I suck in a breath and another wave of desire pulses through me.

More tattoos. I trace them with my eyes, the one on their sternum, mostly hidden by the binder they’re wearing. The fine black lines along their collarbone beg for my tongue.

“You’re so hot,” is my idiotic response, and I flush with embarrassment.

Frankie grins, looking pleased at their ability to render me stupid, but it settles my nerves all the same.

They tug me behind them to their bedroom, and my eyes are glued to the delicate ink curving down their spine.

I think Frankie might kill me tonight. I feel faint already, and we haven’t even started anything, not really.

Frankie spins around, taking in the needy, panting mess of a human that they’ve turned me into. They place a gentle hand on my chest and guide me to sit on the edge of their bed. Their fingers go to the hem of my shirt, barely grazing my skin, and I’m nodding before they can even ask.

Their hands are gentle but firm as they gather the material, slowly baring me to their hungry gaze as they pull it up my stomach, over my breasts and off. They hold my shirt in one hand, letting it dangle from their fingers as they take a half step back and bite their lip.

“Damn, Addison,” they murmur, eyes tracing a path of fire across my skin.

It gives me the confidence to straighten, to push my breasts out and reach behind me to unclip my lacy bra. I let it drop, then lean back on my hands, putting myself on display as their breaths turn shallow.

“Your turn,” I say, nodding to their binder.

Frankie doesn’t hesitate, whipping it off and letting me look my fill. The sternum tattoo takes my breath away. It’s an ornamental design, more fine lines that swirl up the middle of their chest and drip down toward their navel.

I reach forward, snagging a belt loop and tugging them into me. My knees part, allowing Frankie to stand between them as their mouth meets mine again. Our kiss is more frenzied this time, more needy as we both fumble with ourshorts, sliding them off with hands from the other that aren’t helpful but feel necessary anyway. I lay back and pull Frankie onto the bed with me.

Their hands roam, skimming up my ribs to cup my breasts and I arch into their touch, our mouths still melded together. They swallow my whimper, then pull back to look at me again, and their eyes snag on my hip bone.

“Addison,” they say, low and husky, dragging my name out so it feels decadent on their tongue. Their eyes pop up to mine and I bite my cheek to hold in my smile. I knew they’d like that.

“What is this?” Frankie says, one finger tracing the tattoo peeking out from the lace of my panties.

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