Page 87 of Storm
"There you are," Alexander calls, his voice warm with amusement. "We heard the commotion and figured you two were having fun without us."
"Just racing," I explain, pushing away from the log to meet them. "Frankie thinks he can keep up with me."
"I did keep up," Frankie protests, following me. "It was a tie."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, beta boy," I tease, dancing away when he tries to nudge me in retaliation.
Alexander watches our exchange with an expression I can't quite read. I know it was Jonathan who said I could touch Frankie. But this is Alex. I have a feeling he is more understanding. Fox leans against him, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.
"We're heading to the stream," Fox says, tugging Alexander's hand. "Want to join us?"
"Absolutely," I nod eagerly, already moving to follow them. "Lead the way."
Fox guides us deeper into the forest, the path growing narrower and wilder. Alexander walks beside him, while Frankie and I follow a few steps behind. After a moment's hesitation, Frankie's hand finds mine again, his touch hesitant but deliberate.
"Is this okay?" he asks quietly.
I answer by intertwining our fingers more securely, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "More than okay."
The tension drains from his shoulders, and he smiles down at me—that soft, shy smile that's always made something flutter in my chest, even back in the Omega House when I tried so hard to deny it.
"I still can't believe we're here," he says, echoing his earlier sentiment. "Part of me keeps waiting to wake up back in that place."
"I know what you mean," I admit. "Four years in there... it changes how you see the world. Makes freedom feel like a dream that could slip away at any moment."
Frankie's expression turns solemn. "Do you think they're looking for us? Their fathers?"
The question sends a chill through me, despite the warm sunlight filtering through the trees. "Probably," I answer honestly. "Jonathan doesn't seem willing to give me up, which is strange when you think about it." I pause, trying to make sense of it myself. "He could have ended all of this by handing me over. He claims to hate me, so why protect me? And Reed—why did either of them save me in the first place?"
"I think there's more to Jonathan than he shows," Frankie says quietly. "He's not as bad as he wants everyone to believe."
We walk in silence for a moment, both lost in our own thoughts. Then, on impulse, I tug him to a stop, rising on my tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips.
He blinks down at me in surprise. "What was that for?"
"Because I can," I answer with a grin, already pulling away to skip ahead. "Because we're free, and because you smell like cinnamon rolls, and because I've wanted to do that since we left the house."
"Really?" Frankie repeats, his voice rising in disbelief as he hurries to catch up. "You've wanted to kiss me since we left the house and you're just now getting around to it?"
"Better late than never," I call over my shoulder, laughing at his stunned expression. "Besides, I wasn't supposed to touch the beta guard, remember? I forget I can kiss you anytime I want now."
He chuckles as he follows me.
"New rules here beta boy. You can kiss me always."
Frankie catches up to me, his longer stride easily matching my pace now. "Always?" he asks, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
Before I can answer, his lips are on mine. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against him as his other hand slides up under my hair, cradling the nape of my neck. I melt into him, surprised by the heat that instantly flares between us. His kiss is nothing like this morning. This kiss expresses everything he’s feeling.
My hands find their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing beneath my fingertips. His scent envelops me, that warm cinnamon intensifying with desire, making my head swim and the slick pool. I rise on my tiptoes, pressing closer, desperate to eliminate any space between us.
He moans, and it sends a shiver down my spine. His lips move against mine with increasing urgency, coaxing them apart. When his tongue traces the seam of my mouth, I open for him without hesitation.
All I can think of is his taste, his touch, the warmth of his body against mine. My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently, drawing another of those delicious sounds from him. His hand at my waist slips beneath the hem of my shirt, his palm scorching against the bare skin of my lower back.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Frankie rests his forehead against mine, his eyes dark and dazed. His thumb traces gentle circles at the nape of my neck, sending little sparks of pleasure down my spine.
"I've been wanting to do that since the first day I saw you," he confesses, his voice rough with emotion.
