Page 17 of Hard Hearts

“An irresistible piece of meat. That sounds like hunky to me.” I flash her a grin, which doesn’t result in her turning into a puddle of pliable female flesh.

Instead, she rolls her eyes and tries a different attack. “You’re disobeying my mom. She said not to do anything she would do, and being carried off into some random man’s bedroom is definitely something she would do.”

That gives me pause, but I don’t want to push this with Frankie. It’s a tender spot for her.

“Men who listen to their mamas are down on the bottom of the attractive meter. Women like rebels and thieves.”

“Since when?”

“The beginning of time.” I kick open my bedroom door and walk over to the big recliner situated in front of a massive TV.

“Why does your bedroom look like a game room?”

”Because it’s where I like to have fun.” I drop down in the chair.

She tries to escape, but I hold her in place, swinging her legs over one arm and wrapping my arms around her torso.

“I can just about imagine,” she says, and this time, her tone is slightly frosty.

“If you’re envisioning me playing FIFA soccer against some NBA players, then you’re spot on.”

“How much fun have you had with other women in here?”

Very frosty.

“Zero.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“My body’s a temple, Kitten. I’m not offering it to random people.”

”But you’re offering it to me.” She points to herself as if she’s not worth the whole world.

“Exactly. You’re not random. You’re fiery, bold, forthright Frankie. A great friend. A great lawyer. A great daughter. You’re everything.”

She blinks a few times, rendered speechless, and then pushes out of my embrace. “I need to leave.” She thrusts her hands through her hair. “I can’t deal with this. You need to take this back.” She tugs at the ring on her finger.

I cover her hands with my own. They tremble under my touch. Confused, I bring her fingers to my mouth. “Kitten, why are you scared?”

“This doesn’t make any sense, Kaden. I’m not famous football player girlfriend material. I don’t have blond hair. I don’t have a banging body. I’m not small and delicate like my mom. I’m big. Look at my hands.” She spreads her fingers wide.

“They’re pretty.” I don’t know what I’m looking at.

“I’ve got man hands.”

“They don’t look like man hands.” I place my hand next to hers. It’s small compared to mine. “They look like Frankie Lodato’s hands. Capable. Strong. Nice nails.” I run my finger across the top of one. ”And I don’t want someone small and delicate. I like your size. You fit me.” I bring her close, letting hermeasure her frame against my bigger one. “If you were smaller, I’d be afraid to hurt you, but you’re right sized.” I brush the hair away from her face and catch her chin between my fingers. “Me sized.”

This time when I kiss her, I take my time. The pantry was a quick one, a stolen peck that I couldn’t resist. But now, in my bedroom with her trying to flee, I make a case for staying with my mouth and tongue. I lick the roof of her mouth, battle her tongue. I bite her lower lip and then soothe the wound with a lick. I kiss her deep and long until the fight drains out of her, until her arms find their way around my neck and she molds her strong, gorgeous body against mine.

I pick her up easily and press her jean-clad pussy against my denim-covered cock. Using the leather chair for support, I lean back and rub her up and down against my shaft, letting her feel my heat and want.

She shudders and starts to ride me all on her own. Her fingers bite into my shoulders as she levers herself along my aching erection. One of my hands palms her ass while the other skates up her back, marking each bone of her spine, the angel wings of her scapula, the elegant curve of her neck.

Her body tenses as she seeks a release that is just out of reach. I shift upright and walk toward the bed. As I lay her down on the mattress, I break off our kiss. “What size are you, Kitten?”

“You size.”

I smile. “That’s right.”

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