Page 20 of Give Me What You Will

“Because I love your family. They're my family, too,” Sam retorted. “I came here to drink good beer, eat good food, look at baby pictures, and hang out. That’s it.”

“That’s not all,” Frankie growled.

“You’re right.” He sipped the white foamy head off the beer. “I also came here to flirt with you every chance I get. Because I’ve wanted to for years.”

Frankie blinked, anger deflating from his stiff stance. “Years?”

“Years.”

“Fuck, Sammy—why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, unlike you, I knew that the second I told you, our friendship would be over. And I didn’t want to let you go.”

His former best friend paused, and his silence was filled with the expressive features on his handsome face. So open, so full of deep, overwhelming emotion at times. Sam could read him like the back of his hand after so many years together.

“Is that why you moved to LA?” Frankie finally asked, his voice low.

Sam gazed out over the parking lot, watching the world dance, laugh, and play. He thought about Papi. He thought about his life here, once upon a time. About how much he missed it, but couldn’t come back. He had moved on and knew that’s what Papi would’ve wanted for him.

“I…,” he bit back a sigh, not sure he could be that honest. “You want a beer?”

Frankie shifted nervously again and nodded. He liked this—he liked not just shit-talking or joking with him. He liked seeing him vulnerable and nervous. It lit something inside him that had been smoldering for years.

Sam sighed.

This was dangerous. This was playing with fire, knowing only he would get burnt.

Sam handed him the beer, watching Frankie slip his lips over the rim of the plastic cup and take a drink, his throat muscles working as he swallowed. The light stubble of whiskers darkened over his neck and chin. His full lips were supple and plump, wet from cold beer. And Sam wanted to draw that lower lip into his mouth and suck.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” Sam drawled, surprising himself.

Frankie choked and coughed into his beer.

Sam always knew his filters with people were just slightly off. He blamed it on his lack of caring about social norms and niceties because he had a crazy mother who said everything that raced through her delusional mind. He also blamed it on his age. He was too old to care about what others thought about him. It didn’t matter or affect his life in the slightest. Being this honest with Frankie felt surprisingly liberating, almost intoxicating.

Sam stepped forward, unfazed by Frankie’s entire body going ramrod straight, as he whispered directly into his ear. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined sucking your cock? Letting you stuff my mouth as you fucked my face…? I like it rough, and I have a feeling you do, too.”

Frankie swung his face around so quickly that their lips nearly brushed, and he jerked backward, beer sloshing out of his cup, drenching his hand. “Fuck.”

Sam gulped down a long swig, topped off his beer from the keg, and glanced once more at the very flustered Frankie. “If you’re brave enough to join me, I’ll be with Tony, looking at baby pictures.”

Chapter 4

He shaved.

It was the first thing he noticed when Sammy walked into his bar.

Sammy had shaved off his terrible mustache and was instead sporting dark gray and brown stubble that lined his chiseled jawline and Superman chin dimple. He looked like Sammy again, preferring the whiskers over the stache.

Frankie’s stomach did some ridiculous flutter thing again and his gaze moved, without his fucking consent, to Sammy—again.

He just couldn’t stop looking, even though he had determinedly avoided Sammy nearly the entire party. And whenever they did get grouped together with mutual friends, Frankie made up an excuse to check on the bar. It didn’t help that every time he did catch Sammy’s eyes, they were so fuckin’ heated that his breath caught in his chest.

Something clearly had changed in Sammy. And Frankie, too blinded by his determination to go back to the way things were, hadn’t believed it—didn’t want to.

But now, it was flashing in front of him like a neon fucking beer sign, and there was no avoiding it.

Sammy wanted him.