Page 83 of One Last Verse

“What gave you that idea?”

“It’s the dress, baby,” he said against my mouth.

I returned his kiss. A soft, almost chaste brush of our taut lips. And while forgetting the last few weeks of nightmare we’d become wasn’t possible, this calmness that he was today felt nice, felt promising, and I allowed it to swallow all my worries. I needed these memories too.

The movie was a blur. I couldn’t concentrate on a single scene because my mind kept drifting back to Frank’s hand holding mine. By the time the final credits rolled, I was a hot mess between my legs and dying to leave the theater. I hated that he had that effect on me. I hated how much his touch stirred me up.

“It’s probably best we wait here for a bit,” Frank said after the manager approached us to return the Amex along with the mile long receipt and to let us know about the crowd gathered outside.

“Maybe we can sneak out this time?” I offered.

“Did it freak you out?”

“What?”

“The people?”

I nodded. “A little.” In a way, crowds were my specialty too, but today’s lobby incident had unsettled me. The experience was equally eye-opening and terrifying.

Frank shifted in his seat and looked down at me, his gaze roaming my face. “I’m glad you agreed to this.”

“Did you like the movie?”

“It was”—his features hardened—“intense.”

I bit back a smile. Something told me he hadn’t been paying any attention. “You had to really think about it, huh? Was Blake Lively not that impressive?”

“Oh, she wasveryimpressive.” He grinned.

“You and your unhealthy obsession with other women.” With a pout, I slapped him across his chest. It was just a light pat, but it triggered something in me and cold panic rushed through my stomach.

Frank didn’t move. His eyes were still locked on mine.

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” I said quietly, my voice trembling.

“I was wasted and I’m sure I deserved it.” He took my hand and rested it against his pec. “I wanted this to be a fun night. Let’s try and get out of here, huh?”

“Okay,” I agreed.

Frank waved at one of the guards and asked him to have the valet attendant bring the car to the rear of the building. We left the theater a few minutes later and used the back exit.

Outside, the air was fresh. A couple of fans approached Frank to ask for an autograph while I slid behind the wheel of the Ferrari and waited. The kids seemed thoroughly impressed that Frankie Blade took time out to talk to them. He politely refused photos but signed T-shirts and shook hands.

Watching him with other people filled me with warmth. He was kind and attentive, despite the fact that these little uncomfortable moments cut into his everyday life. Or maybe thiswashis everyday life. He’d said so himself. Celebrities were a different breed. They sacrificed their privacy in exchange for immortality. In exchange for their rightful spot in history. Be it politics, science, or music.

Once Frank got to the car, the smile on his face fell. “Let’s get out of here.” He fastened his seatbelt and rested his hand on my thigh again as if he needed to touch me to keep going. His knee jerked.

“Are you okay?” I asked, shifting gears. The growl of the engine muffled my voice.

Frank turned his head to look at me. His palm on my skirt remained fixed. “I am.”

I knew he was lying. My father had also gotten antsy when he didn’t get his fix of alcohol. Difference was, my father never acknowledged he had a problem. My lover did.

We merged into the traffic on La Brea and came to a stop at a red light. The Ferrari purred like a wildcat. The tinted windows hid us from the eyes of those who wondered to whom this half-million-dollar car belonged. I wasn’t sure my guess at the price tag was correct, but Ashton had once taken the liberty to Google-stalk my boyfriend and that was the alleged amount that had come up online. Although tabloids were never a trusted source of information.

“I had a really nice time,” I said, trying to ignore the sudden need in my core when Frank moved his hand up my thigh.

“I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve taken a woman to see a movie.” Readjusting his seatbelt, Frank shifted to face me. Then his head neared mine, eyes sparkling, and his hand slipped to the back of my neck to pull me in for a kiss. The assault of his lips was unexpected and raw. He didn’t tease or prepare me. He took what he wanted with aggression. I didn’t know whether he needed a distraction from what was happening in his head or he wanted me for the same reason I always wanted him—because we were recklessly addicted to each other. Whatever his motive was, though, I welcomed it and I gave in to him.

---