Page 66 of Vicious Games

She watches me warily as I put the food away, probably wondering what the hell I’m up to. I’m in no rush to tell her.

Instead, I walk back into the living room and grab her notebook.

Five equations. She got one right. An improvement.

“Come sit.” I pat the spot next to me. “Let’s go over these.”

For the next hour or so, we dive deep into her work. And for once, I can actually see her starting to grasp some of the fundamental concepts. Not everything, but enough for her to get a passing grade on any pop quiz Sister Agnes decides to pull on us.

“Enough,” she groans eventually, dropping her pencil onto the table. “My brain is fried. I can’t do this anymore.”

I glance at my watch. It’s a quarter to six.

“Then how about a snack?”

Frankie follows me into the kitchen, rubbing her temples, a clear sign that the previous exercises are doing her head in.

“I’m not a great cook, but I do make a mean mac and cheese with bacon,” I offer. “Or grilled cheese. Your choice.”

Her face lights up. “Mac and cheese sounds amazing right about now.”

“Mac and cheese it is.”

A few minutes later, she’s going to town on the food I prepared as if it were a five-star dish, not something that came out of a box. And for the life of me, I can’t look away.

It’s not just the way she eats. It’s the little fuck-me noises she makes that has me shifting in my seat. The way her eyelids flutter closed after each bite like she’s savoring every morsel. The way her tongue laps at the spoon, greedily licking it all up.

Okay. Two things I have learned in this small time frame. Watching Frankie eat has just become my dick’s favorite show to binge watch. And that she doesn’t suffer from the sin of gluttony—she’s a foodie. There’s a difference.

She appreciates the experience. The preparation, the presentation, and the act of eating. Mother Superior is a tyrant if she sees anything wrong with that.

“You know it’s rude to stare at people while they eat,” she murmurs between bites.

“Sorry.” I grin, not making an effort to look away.

“You’re still doing it.”

“You didn’t tell me to stop.”

“I told you it was rude.”

“And we’ve established that I am rude and don’t give two flying fucks about it.”

I prop my chin on my fist and lean in closer just so I don’t miss a single second of the best show on earth.

Frankie laughs, but when she takes another bite, she moans softly, savoring the taste, causing me to discreetly rearrange my hard-as-fuck shaft.

Her little wanton sounds are giving my cock ideas. Dangerous ideas.

“God, you’re such a weirdo,” she teases when she catches me staring at her mouth.

I arch a brow, feigning innocence. “Is that supposed to offend me?”

“Nope. Just pointing out the obvious.”

She flashes me a smile. Not just any smile, either. A genuine one. A smile I’ve never seen on her full, luscious lips before, which makes my chest tighten in tandem with my hardening cock.

Fucking hell.

---