Page 74 of Give Me What You Will

Sam, noticing the heat brewing in his best friend’s gaze, motioned down the hallway. Frankie snatched his bag up from the guest bedroom and marched down the hallway, strolling into Sam’s room.

“Nice,” Frankie said, impressed. “Suits you.”

Sam heard his bag being set down before he followed him in, heart thudding. He hesitated at the threshold, anxious about seeing Frankie in his bedroom, knowing he would never be able to erase that image from his mind. He gritted his teeth, forced his feet to move, and entered. Frankie was at his dresser, looking at the framed photos there. Pictures of Papi and him, of his childhood, and…

Frankie picked up one of the pictures. “I fuckin’ love this photo.”

It was after Frankie’s MMA debut. He was a sweaty, bruised mess, kissing the side of Sam’s face, grinning excitedly and holding him close, looking victorious. Papi had captured the magical moment between best friends.

Frankie set it down and picked up the next one—all three of them this time—at Sam’s graduation. Sam in the middle, beaming, holding his degree like a little kid holding his soccer trophy, surrounded by the two most important men in his life, smiling proudly at the photographer.

Frankie chuckled, “You’re fucking adorable when you smile like that. All dimple chin and sunshine.”

Sam stilled, the tempo of his heart beating a little too quickly. “I don’t think anyone's ever called me adorable.”

Frankie smirked, gaze heated yet playful. “How about sexy then?”

“Dressed in a cap and gown?”

“More like the cap and that smile. You need to smile like that more often, Dr. Samuels.”

“That was my delusionally-happy-to-be-done-with-med-school smile.”

Frankie nodded thoughtfully. “So, what other ways can I make you delusionally fuckin’ happy, Sammy?”

He felt the butterflies in his stomach jolt at Frankie’s seductive tone.

“I—I could think of a few things.”

Frankie cocked his chin at him, “You nervous?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“Why? It’s only me.”

“It’s because it’s you.”

Frankie slowly set the photo down, reaching for the hem of his shirt and drawing it over his head, then tossing it casually to the floor. He licked his lower lip, dark eyes riveted to his. “Come here.”

Releasing a hard breath through his nostrils, Sam did.

Frankie’s broad shoulders were lined with the hours spent working on cars, hitting a heavy bag, and lifting weights. They were defined and carved out of granite. Frankie’s naked chest and torso were lightly sprinkled with dark chest hair and Sam had always wanted to drag his nails through it, to feel if it was as soft as it looked. The dark lines of his tattoos were inked over his olive skin and covered his thick, muscular arms.

Sunlight from the window behind him illuminated him, encasing his best friend like a mirage—a dream made real.

Because Frankie was his dream.

Always. And he never wanted it to end.

“I like it when you listen,” Frankie drawled, eyes dancing with that playful charm.

He snorted, “I think the word you mean is obey.”

“Yeah, that too.”

“I need to kiss you again,” Sam heard himself admit.

Frankie hummed, smiling, and captured the back of his neck, kissing him. It was soft and gentle, yet firm and commanding. Sam reached for his naked shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin, and his body trembled with anticipation.