Page 73 of Give Me What You Will

Frankie’s hand slid downward, capturing his ass, palming it, and giving it a hard squeeze. “Fuck, baby. If I weren’t starving, I’d get on my knees right now and make you feed me.”

Frankie grinned mischievously, pinching his ass so hard that he yelped. He slid away from him, striding into the kitchen and opening the fridge as if he had been here a thousand times before, and grabbed a beer. He clocked the sandwich on the counter and shot Sam another smile, “This for me?”

“Yeah,” he replied, taking a seat on a barstool at the island counter, legs a shaking mess beneath him.

“Thanks.”

He set the plate down across from him, cracking open the can of beer and taking a long drink. “Like I was sayin’,” Frankie said, taking a bite of the sandwich. He chewed, smiling. “You got a nice fuckin’ house, Sam. I like it. And that tub! Fuck, that thing's bigger than my garage.”

He chuckled, relaxing.

“You want a beer?” Frankie asked.

“Yeah, sure. Shouldn’t I be hosting?”

Frankie snorted, retrieving another cold beer from the fridge, cracking it, and handing it to him. He took another bite of his sandwich, watching Sam take a sip of his beer. They seemed unable to look anywhere else but at each other.

“How long have you been here?” Frankie asked, gesturing to the house.

“About six months. Stayed at a few hotels for a while.”

“Hotels? Shit, why?”

Because I wasn’t sure if I was going to come crawling back to you.

That felt a little too exposing, so instead he said, “Picky with the housing market. Couldn’t find what I wanted.”

“Lookin’ for one with a dope-ass tub with jacuzzi jets?”

He smirked, “I can give you a demonstration in it later, if you’d like.”

Frankie’s eyes darkened, licking the beer off his lower lip. “Yeah, I bet you would.”

It still felt incredibly odd and exciting to have Frankie flirting back with him. His cheeks warmed, pulse skipping.

“You’re blushin’, Sammy.”

“Yeah, well, I never thought in a million years you’d actually flirt with me.”

Frankie tilted his head and nodded. “Yeah, me neither. I kinda like it, though.”

His stupid heart swooped as he watched Frankie pick up his plate and rinse it off in the sink.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“The dishes? I came here to take care of you. Dishes included.”

“Take care of me?”

Frankie, so sure of himself, so confident, smiled and nodded toward the hallway. “Gonna show me the rest of the house?”

He led Frankie through the house, showing him his office, stuffed with boxes of books he had yet to unpack because he hadn’t bought the shelves he wanted for it. Next was the guest room.

Frankie arched an eyebrow, scanning the room. “Kinda tiny.”

“It’s a guest room.”

Frankie hummed. “Where’s your room?”