Page 36 of One Last Verse

“Come here,” Frank rasped into my mouth, resting his left hand on my ass to guide me.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to squash you.” Panic rushed through my stomach, tying it into a throbbing knot.

“As long as you limit yourself by riding my cock and not my broken shoulder, doll, we should be fine.”

Hesitant, I balanced myself on my hip.

“I just want to feel your body,” he whispered in my ear raggedly, pulling me over to his lap. Urgency was in his every movement. “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable.” His hand roamed and he touched me greedily. His fingertips traced strange shapes over my clothes. I couldn’t tell if he was writing something or simply drawing random pictures that came into his tired mind, but every inch of me was tense with desire. Thirst scratched at my throat. I straddled him, resting both hands on the seat behind his head. The leather upholstery squeaked under the weight of our bodies as we situated ourselves to get comfortable.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I confessed, brushing my lips over the stress line above his nose.

He laughed against my cheek and ran his palm up and down my back, wrinkling the fabric of my top.

Discussing sex safety with my lover was strange. I’d never had to think about where to grab him and how hard to ride him before the accident. But now he was a wall of fractured bones and broken plates wrapped in scars, and I wanted to cuddle him into the softest blanket and lull him to sleep.

“You were so good today, Frank. You really were.” I had to compliment him over and over again.

“Did you like the song?” he asked.

“I did.”

“She wrote it. It’s called ‘Afterburn.’ A beautiful composition.”

“I loved your voices together. You were magnificent. You should record it with her.”

“You didn’t even hear the beginning.”

“Trust me, I don’t need to hear the entire song to tell you whether it’s good or bad. I’ve been doing this way too long.”

“Have you now?” He tossed his head back and eyed me, his gaze rapt.

“Please stop flaunting your life experience in front of me, Mr. Blade.”

“Are you saying I’m old?”

“No, silly. You’re not old. You’re perfect.”

He stared at me with the intensity of a thousand suns. “I hate this.” His left hand slipped under the hem of my top. “I’m rich and hot and I can’t even rage fuck you in my own limo.” A smirk tugged the side of his mouth. Though miserable, he still found time to be cute.

“I can fuck you,” I purred, rubbing against his growing erection. “I’ve got two hands and enough rage for the both of us.” I held up my palms and squeezed my thighs invitingly.

He cupped my cheek. “I’m not with you because of the convenient sex, Cassy.” His tone was heated but serious.

My stomach flipped.

“I know sometimes you doubt me and what we have.”

I shook my head. “I don’t—”

Frank pressed his index finger to my lips before my sentence made it out. “Let me finish, baby.”

I swallowed down the words.

“I’m not a saint,” he continued. “I did a lot of shit back in the day. I’ve seen and tried a lot of things. I’ve dated some of the richest and most beautiful women in the world, but I’ve never felt as at ease with anyone as I feel with you. You’re not just there to agree with everything I say like most people do. You listen to me and you’re not scared to speak your mind, and that means something to me. I don’t want to be with a woman who’s there because of what I am with the backing of my money. I want to be with a woman who’s there because of what I am without it. I know you had doubts about us because we were this big secret and I didn’t want the world to know about us. Truth is, I didn’t want to share you with the world. I didn’t want its jealousy and resentment to stain you. I didn’t want this world to do to you what it’d done to me. But if I keep you to myself, the world is never going to know how wonderful you are.”

Emotions jammed my chest. I couldn’t separate them. They were a mix of everything and almost felt like too much. I bit my bottom lip to stop it from trembling and palmed his face.

“I’d still date you if you lived in a studio apartment in East Hollywood and played in a local band that had zero chance to get signed.”

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