Seven minutes and forty-eight seconds later, I buzzed Franklin back into the building. He stepped through the door with a large gym bag slung over his shoulder. “Where should I put this?” he asked, moving through the room like a man on a mission.
“Oh. You’re staying the night. Like the whole night?” To say I was shocked would be an understatement. Ecstatic glee took over my insides, head to toe.
“I told you. Not leaving you alone. I’m fine on the couch or the floor.”
I bit back a snicker. Yeah right, Franklin on the floor? There had to be a law against such an atrocity. “No need. I have a guest room.” I led him down the hallway to my extra bedroom. The jaunt was short, but seemed an eternity with his presence looming behind me, protective and overwhelming.
Before turning the knob, I turned to face him. “So, you are my first official overnight guest.” I swung the door open with dramatic flair and swept my arm wide to present the room. “Please be gentle with her. The shower is in there.” I pointed to the bathroom.
He set the bag down on the bed but didn’t take his eyes off me for a blink. The furnace burning slow and steady in my belly cranked to high.
“Do you always come prepared for sleepovers?” I smirked at him.
“Something like that,” he chuckled.
I was sure he did the sleepover thing often. A revolving supply of bags were probably stashed in his car, one for every night of the week. It would certainly explain the barren state of his apartment.
“Thank you,” I blurted, pressing my hand to my chest. “I didn’t want to be alone.”
He cupped my shoulders and shook me playfully. “Come on, now. The Tate I know wouldn’t be afraid of some silly, gruesome assault, would she?”
I laughed and hugged him. I couldn’t help it. My cheek pressed against his warm, hard chest when he squeezed me back. His breath tickled the top of my head before he landed a soft kiss. I inhaled deep and slow. I wanted to smell him. Skin, sweat, anything. What I got was a big whiff of freshly laundered cotton.
He held me tight. My body responded, every nerve vibrating in anticipation.
Oh crap.
Franklin shifted and pulled away, only enough to look down. “There’s something you need to know about me.”
No. I knew it. The illusion was too perfect to be real. The bomb was about to drop.
Reluctantly, I slipped from his embrace and sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed. I gripped the tall bedpost and held on for dear life. “Let’s hear it.” The quiver in my voice betrayed the veneer of confidence I’d built.
With a deep intake of breath, he sat next to me, pressing shoulder and thigh, warm and solid, against my trembling body.
“I was married. It was a long time ago and it didn’t end on a pretty note.”
Okay. That wasn’t too bad. So what? Divorcee’. No big deal, and not a shock. The man was beautiful. Why wouldn’t he have been married?
I managed a nod. He wasn’t finished.
“She’s the only woman I’ve ever been with.” That was a bit of a shock. A bit unbelievable, too.
“Okay.” Why was he telling me this?
Franklin slid his hand across my thigh and laced his fingers through my own. “I want you in every way possible. It’s not only physical. I know we work together. I know everything about this is wrong, but fuck, I can’t get you out of my head. The way you taste.” His tongue traced his lower lip and his gaze traveled to my mouth. “The way our bodies fit together, the way you make me laugh. Holy shit. I haven’t laughed so much in years.” He held me captive with his words, the expression he wore, the heat burning me alive from the inside out.
So, he didn’t just want a place to stick his dick. Suddenly, I wanted to be that place anyway. I wanted to be the only place he ever stuck it again. Would I get hurt? Most likely. It’d be worth the cost of the ride, of that I was certain. Would we get fired if anyone found out? Sure. But who would ever know?
Oh, to hell with workplace ethics.
“I’ve been patient—” He started to speak again, but I shut him up when I bit his lower lip and sucked. He didn’t fight me off when I straddled his thighs and pushed him flat across the bed. It took him about a tenth of a second to claim my mouth and kiss me hard enough to steal my breath.
His duffel hit the floor with a thud. Then he slid strong, hot fingers underneath my yoga pants, cupped my ass with a hard squeeze, and groaned. Man alive—that set my blood on fire.
* * * *
Sex should have been the last thing on my mind. Franklin Reed should not have been in my home, especially not on my bed. Maybe I needed some excitement to wipe the gruesome images of Jacob from my head. Maybe, being this near to Franklin was sensory overload, and I was like every other warm-blooded female on the planet and completely at the mercy of raw, male sex appeal.
In that moment, I didn’t care why I was unable to form the simple combination of two letters, N and O.
He kissed me. Claimed me. Assaulted my mouth with such seductive ambition, I’d need an oxygen mask when he finished.
The force he used to knead my butt bordered on painful, but with every movement of his strong hands, a fire surged through my skin. His kiss, desperate and hurried, deepened as did the strength he used to smash me against a growing erection.
I pulled away, desperate for precious oxygen. Holy shit. Franklin stared up at me with hungry, tortured eyes. Lust-filled. Ravenous. Fervent. He devoured me with a contemplation I’d never experienced. Paralyzed me with the intimacy of his gaze, chest thumping against mine.
I memorized his eyes, every fleck and shimmer of color, the curve of his lashes, each fine wrinkle carved around his lids. I couldn’t blink or look away, afraid that if I did, I’d lose him, even if this were only for one night.
“There’s so much I need to say to you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.
Oh God, I was going to lose him.
I shook my head no. “Please, right now I just want to feel you.” I pressed my lips to his, hoping to silence the inevitable rejection. He slid his hands to the small of my back, then higher. I shifted to pull my weight off him. With a sharp inhale, he wrapped his arms around me and flipped so I was pinned beneath him.
Caged like a wild animal.
With hands fisted on either side of my shoulders, he straddled my thighs. His long sleeved T-shirt did nothing to conceal the sculptured male muscle underneath. I couldn’t wait to see what the damned clothing hid. In fact, I couldn’t wait to help him get out of it.
I grabbed his shirt hem and tugged upward. A playful smile stretched across his face, and he lifted his arms, allowing me to peel the cotton from his taught skin. He sat back on his heels, hands to knees, and studied me as if deciding which part of my body to ravish first. Perfect, because it gave me time to examine him.
Okay. It was ridiculous. I’d seen plenty of shirtless men. None of them up close and personal, but hey, I watched movies, skimmed through magazines, browsed the internet. Sexy bodies were everywhere, but never, ever, had I seen a man so innately, well, male. One hundred percent, grade-A certified beefcake, pure sex, born to procreate—or at least make women want to procreate.
His skin stretched so tight across his chest and abs, I could trace every muscle, every vein. Under clothing, his narrow waist gave the illusion of slightness. In the buff—pure power. It veed to an obscenely cut pack of abs and swelled to pecs that could have been chiseled from the finest granite, buffed then polished to perfection.
“Oh my God,” I gasped.