Page 56 of Wanted

My eyes soften as I turn to look down at her, and they sweep her face almost lazily. I search her eyes before glancing at her pink mouth.

"Please, Jude." Those sinful lips barely twitch as she inaudibly mouths the words. "Please, kiss me."

I slide my fingers with all the gentleness I've never had to muster into the hair at the back of her head, sifting through the strands. They feel like silk. I fight the urge to twist her hair around my fist and play with it in my palm.

The entirety of her head is cradled in my hand as I wait for the numbers to stop, but they don't. Higher and higher they reach, rolling through my brain like a freight train.

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

No sign of stopping.

Fourteen. Fifteen.

My palms dampen. A bead of sweat glides down the back of my neck beneath the collar of my shirt, rolling over puckered scars and ruined skin.

Sixteen.

My heart thunders like horses' hooves racing across a pasture. I trace my thumb over her soft lips. The way her breath catches punches me in the gut.

Seventeen.

Rejection shimmers in her eyes beneath the pendant lights, a jagged dagger to my heart. I feel her tense in my hold.

Eighteen.

"Fuck it," I mutter beneath my breath and slowly lean in.

Nineteen—

Shocked eyes drift closed just before my lips press to hers, and the numbers cease as the feel of her takes over my every thought. Time stands still. The sound in the bar fades away beneath the waves of white static in my mind. Blissful silence encases me until I'm nothing but Frankie. The feel of her beneath my lips. The warmth of her against me. She whimpers, and I haul her even more flush to my body, slipping my tongue between her pliant lips.

Something within my chest shifts, locking into place. A hole I wasn't aware of is suddenly filled.

I sample her mouth, needing to taste her. This might be the one and only time I kiss her, and I'm not about to waste a single second of her in my arms.

For whatever reason, this kiss is different from any that have come before. I feel drugged without ever having used. The constant tension running through my body like an electric current ceases, banished by this connection to her. Frankie suppresses the recurrent urge to remain on high alert.

My shoulders relax as her arm wraps tight around the muscles. A groan rumbles in my chest, tickling my throat. I pull back, only to dive back in, too eager for more to let her go just yet.

Frankie practically crawls into my lap. Her movement forces my knee between her thighs. I nearly whimper at the heat pressed against my leg. The dampness I know to be hidden beneath her tight jeans.

All too soon, she's pulling back. Her shoulders heaving as she fights for breath.

Our faces are only inches apart. I lick my lips, fighting every instinct to drag her out of this restaurant so I can properly ravish her. Her hooded eyes blink slowly, and a pink flush colors her cheeks.

I don't know where the fuck this is coming from, but I don't care. Not about her intentions. Not about mine.

One kiss and I've become devastatingly addicted to her.

Which is unfortunate, because I suspect this fleeting moment is a one-time thing.

Plates landing on the bar startle us apart. Frankie scrambles back onto her stool, damn near tipping over in the process. I hide my prideful grin behind a mouthful of beer.

"Not your girlfriend, my ass," Bobby mumbles as he walks back into the kitchen.

"Eat." I gesture to Frankie's burger and pick up a single fry from my own plate.

"Don't you want to know—"

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