What You See (Sons of the Survivalist #3) - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,92
wasn’t sure if she was protesting or—
“I love you, you know.” He kissed her gently, his fingers on the center of her. “In case you haven’t figured it out.”
Joy filled her…and then she shook her head. It couldn’t be true. “It was a scary night. You won’t feel the same tom—”
He chuckled. “Woman, I’ve felt this way for a while. I love you.”
“You…you…” How could she think? She stared at him, saw his slow smile as he shifted, pressed his cock at her entrance, and ever so slowly filled her. All the nerves inside her sparkled like the stars they’d watched earlier.
Her hands slid over his rock-hard biceps, over the striated deltoids, and to his muscled back.
His black-as-sin eyes held hers. “Tell me, Frankie.” His voice dropped, lower, the order inescapable. “What do you feel for me?”
“I love you.” The words were out, impossible to recall. And she’d spoken a truth she couldn’t deny. “I didn’t want to love you. I don’t want to.” She glared at him.
“But you do.” He laughed, the sound so impossibly compelling she had to grin.
“I do.” She ran her hands behind his neck, up over the soft skin of his scalp. “I love you so, so much.”
“Since I need to hear that some more”—he smiled, his dark eyes wicked—“keep saying it…or I’ll stop.”
He moved inside her, hard and fast, filling her full, sliding out, driving her up and up and up.
As long as she kept saying how she felt.
And when she came, when he came, when he was so deep inside her they were one, and he said it to her again, the tenderness in his voice made her weep.
Chapter Nineteen
In the cookie of life, friends are the chocolate chips. ~ Salman Rushdie
Since Bull had lowered the blackout curtains, they’d slept late, and then he taught her to kayak. It was such a peaceful way to exercise and so beautiful with only the sounds of the oars and water and birds. New York was never quiet.
When they returned and shared a shower, Bull started to leave to get a condom, but she stopped him. “I’m on birth control pills…and I get tested for STDs regularly.” When he said he had been tested and was clean, the condoms were left in a drawer—and oh, the extra closeness was worth the awkward conversation.
During their late breakfast, Gabe dropped by to make up his official police report and left Frankie a copy. It was good he had, since she spent the rest of the morning using Bull’s laptop to get replacements for her driver’s license, credit cards, and everything else.
There were moments of accomplishment…and moments of pure self-pity. The copies of Kit’s guardianship papers had been burned to ash. So had her phone and laptop. That had been a really bad moment. Her phone.
When the rental company said they’d send her an undamaged vehicle, she unloaded her poor scorched car that, once again, Hawk had driven to the Hermitage for her. Then she got all teary-eyed because her jo hadn’t burned up in the cabin.
She also hauled in the brand-new backpack that contained the equipment to rescue Kit—giant bolt cutters, hunting knife, rope. The navigation equipment, first aid kit, travel-at-night stuff.
Three more days, Kit, and I’ll be there the second it’s dark.
A tap at the sliding glass deck door made her jump.
“Frankie?” Audrey stood outside. “It’s me and JJ and Regan.”
“C’mon in.” At the dining room table, Frankie waved to them. “Give me one second to get this form sent off.”
The SUBMIT button appeared on the laptop display. She clicked on it and leaned back in the chair with a relieved sigh. “Done. You know, in all my years in so-called crime-ridden New York City, I never had my purse stolen.”
They laughed.
JJ patted her shoulder. “It’s good you started on replacing your documents right away. Some of those agencies move pretty slowly.”
“Speaking of replacements,” Audrey said. “How about we take you to Soldotna to get clothes and personal stuff? Or if you want more variety, we can go to Anchorage.”
Audrey and JJ were smiling; Regan was bouncing a little.
“Really?” Frankie pulled in a breath. “You guys are a miracle. Only…I don’t even have shoes. They won’t let me in—”
“You have shoes.” JJ held up a pair of battered black high-top sneakers. “Bull said you’re a size seven, but Audrey wears a six, and my shoes would fall right off your feet. We checked around. These are from Regina, our municipal building receptionist.”