I shake my head because I seriously have no fuckin’ clue what she’s talking about.
“My battery-operated boyfriend,” she says, again talking in a slow tone like she’s explaining why the sky is blue to a kindergartner.
My brows go up. “Oh.” Her vibrator. I burst out laughing. I can’t help it. The mental image of Frankie getting herself off is hot as fuck, but the fact that she’s all embarrassed and defensive is honestly fucking hilarious.
“Laugh all you want, asshole,” she says softly.
The tone of her voice has me instantly sobering.
“I’m not making fun of you.” I shake my head, meaning it. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”
I look her up and down again. How the fuck has nobody tapped that ass yet? She’s fucking gorgeous—all soft curves and delicate features, with those big innocent doe eyes that make me want to corrupt her in dirty, dirty ways.
She looks up through her lashes. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
Is she for real? Has she not looked in a mirror... ever? “Because you’re...” I wave my arm up and down, gesturing to all of her.
Her body stiffens, which only makes the towel slip a little, revealing more of her chest. “I’m what? Finish that sentence,” she demands, her voice suddenly stronger.
I feel my lips twitch. I don’t know what it is about her bitchy attitude, but it makes my dick rock hard. Everything about herdoes, which is a fucking problem I’m going to have to deal with at some point.
“You know,” I start pulling out the food from the bag. “Hot and smart. The whole package.”
When she’s quiet for too long, my eyes go back to her. “Thanks,” her voice is barely above a whisper.
Why does she seem so surprised? She has to know she’s pretty. “See. That’s why it’s so hard to believe that nobody’s ever fucked you.”
Her nose wrinkles. “And... you ruined it.”
“Whatever.” I grab the roll of paper towels on the counter and pull off a couple of sheets for napkins. “It’s the truth.”
“I went to an all-girls school until I graduated at fifteen, and then I went to college.”
My brow furrows. What the fuck does that have to do with anything? College kids have sex. Probably a lot of it. That’s like half the reason people go to college.
“I was underage,” she says slowly, like I’m dense.
Fuck. I keep forgetting she’s only nineteen. Basically a fucking kid still. Sorta. Definitely too young for me, that’s for damn sure.
“Right. I forgot you’re like a prodigy or some shit.” I move to my dresser and pull out a black Harley-Davidson t-shirt and a pair of navy blue boxer shorts with a bright orange octopus on them.
“Release the Kraken?” Frankie lifts a questioning brow.
“Christmas gift from Foxy,” I explain as I toss them at her. “She thinks she’s fucking hilarious.”
Without missing a beat, she shimmies the boxers up her legs and under the towel, then pulls the shirt over her head and shoves her arms through the holes, letting the towel hit the floor once her body is covered.
“That’s impressive,” I admit, handing her a sandwich.
Blushing, she avoids my gaze and opens the wrapper. When she lifts the bun, she frowns. “I can’t eat this.”
“What’s wrong with it?” I grab the burger from her hand and look at it.
“I can’t eat cheese. I’m lactose intolerant.”
Well fuck.
I glance down at the chicken sandwich in my hand. “Here.”
