Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
His self-restraint turns me on. It gives me license to take the reins, to steer the ship, and do things my way. I’ve never been with a man like him before, and the thought of welcoming him into my body fills me with hope. I want to make love to him. If only for a moment, I’ll be able to forget all the heartache I’ve suffered.
I reach down to his waist, tugging his shirt up over his head. He shifts effortlessly to shed the fabric, gazing at me with wonder. I can almost see myself in his eyes. He’s imagining a woman who has no idea who his father is. He thinks I’m sweet and innocent, and he’s worried about taking advantage.
I know that if we go all the way, it will open doors for me in terms of information. Men are much more likely to spill their secrets if they think they’re in a committed relationship. If I follow through with what my body wants, I’ll be rewarded with “pillow talk.” Maybe I can gain some insights that will further my investigation.
I kiss Frankie once more, desperate to taste freedom again. But this time, all I can sense is disappointment in myself. I’m better than this. I can’t take advantage of him that way. And when my article comes out, I want to accept the Pulitzer without shame. Sleeping your way into actionable intel may be effective, but it’s not something I want to do.
I inhale sharply, placing both my hands on his chest. “Frankie,” I whisper.
“Sofia,” he murmurs, kissing my neck.
He thinks we’re still moving toward the bedroom, his touch tender and loving. I moan, allowing myself to be dragged under the current of our shared passion. It feels so good to touch another human being. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like.
I grasp him at the waist, the touch of his skin burning away all thoughts of restraint. Sliding my palms around to his spine, I marvel at the slope of his lower back. I even allow myself to dip a hand beneath his pants, not reaching his rear end but hovering inches away.
I pull him close, forcing him to abandon the inches of space he’s keeping between us. When his chest hits mine, I feel a rush of relief. I don’t care what the repercussions are. I want him badly.
He moves on from my neck, kissing my collarbone and nuzzling the curve of my throat. I twist my hips up into his, putting my whole body into motion. I wrap one leg around his, succumbing to raw, animalistic passion.
I feel his hand cup my breast. Above my bra, the heat is still present, driving me further from my rational state of mind. He nips at my chin, returning to my mouth to suck my lower lip deep into his mouth. It’s torture. I’m spinning out of control. Another minute longer and I’ll be hopelessly lost.
I get a flash of Danny’s body lying on his couch. It wasn’t the same couch, but if it were, I would be lying in the same position as I found my brother. That visual wakes me up. I raise my hands again, inching them between us. With more force this time, I push Frankie away.
He comes up, as if from a dream, shaking his head to clear it. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“No,” I reply on an exhale. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he insists, sitting all the way back to allow me to ease away. “We’re going too fast. I lost control.”
“No, you’re fine,” I assure him. “I just…panicked for a moment.”
He laughs, glancing back at me like a wounded animal. “I guess that makes two of us.”
“It was wonderful,” I exclaim. “I just don’t feel like I’m ready—”
“You don’t have to explain,” he insists.
“Can we just sit together?” I ask, looking around for my shirt.
I find it on the coffee table and reach for it, sliding it over my head as if it’s some kind of shield. Frankie follows suit, locating his clothes and putting them back on. We sit side by side awkwardly for a moment.
I’m surprised to see that the TV is still on. While we were making out, I completely lost track of sight and sound. The studio audience laughs about something, but I can’t concentrate on it.
“Do you want me to go?” Frankie asks.
“No,” I say quickly.
I stand up, figuring that if I just move around a little, the spell will wear off. I go to the kitchen, which really isn’t very far away, and pour myself a glass of water. Walking back to the couch, I’m not sure if I should sit down. I don’t know if I can trust myself to be that close to him without resuming our make-out session.
Frankie seems to understand. He pushes the blanket away, banishing all thoughts of the bedroom. I give him a grateful smile, sitting down finally. He puts one hand on my knee, and I let it sit there.