Page 144 of Vicious Games

We’re it.

We’re the real fucking deal.

And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to her if I have to.

“Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But make it quick.”

“Quick?” I smirk. “Baby, I don’tdoquick.”

She laughs again and, Jesus Christ, that sound is pure melody.

Once we’re outside, we break into a run, racing across the schoolyard toward the chapel. No one will be in there today, too busy hanging fairy lights, snowflakes, garlands, and a few questionable inflatable Santas.

“You really are a bad influence on me,” she says, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

We slip into the chapel, and I immediately pull her into the confessional, closing the curtain behind us. I sit down on the small bench and bring her onto my lap, my hands already craving to touch her every curve. I then tilt her chin so I can lose myself in the endless ocean of her blue eyes.

“Hi,” she whispers, smiling.

“Hi, yourself. I fucking missed you.”

She wraps her arms around my shoulders and melts into me.

“You missed me? We’ve been joined at the hip for weeks. When could you have possibly missed me?”

“I still have to drop you off at night at the orphanage, right? Those hours apart? Pure fucking torture,” I pout.

She chuckles, brushing her lips over mine. “God, you’re cute. Even if you’re a bit dramatic.”

“I can live with cute. Now kiss me already.”

And she does.

Soft. Sweet.

Then not-so-soft. And not-so-fucking-sweet.

That’s all it takes.

One kiss and we’re ravenous for each other. Her hands thread through my hair, tugging, while mine slide beneath her cardigan and up her back. I can’t stop touching her. I’m obsessed with how soft she feels, how perfectly her curves fit against me. As if every inch of her was made to satiate the hunger inside me.

“Lucky…” she moans against my mouth, her breath hot and needy.

Fuck, I love that sound.

I’d burn down the world just to hear her moan like that on repeat.

“Tell me what you need,” I grunt, already popping open the buttons of her shirt and cardigan, just enough to bury my face in the valley of her breasts. I lick along her warm skin, nip her gently, drawing another gasp from her lips. “Shh, baby,” I whisper against her flesh. “Don’t want to wake the saints up, do we?”

She giggles, then gasps as I suck on her nipple through her bra, my tongue and teeth teasing the bud until she’s squirming on my lap.

But Frankie’s never been one to just take what’s given—no, she gives back as good as she gets.

She grabs my tie and yanks me up to her face. “Stop playing around, Lucky.”

“But I love our little games.” I grin innocently.

---