The Lovely Reckless(61)

“You won’t be able to if you’re in jail.”

Marco kisses my neck and slides around so he’s in front of me. “Look at me.”

If I do, I’ll break.

I keep my lashes down. “I can’t.”

He cups my face in his hands and gently raises my chin. “Before you kissed me at the party, I imagined what it would feel like. How it would feel to hold you. But I never thought…” He releases me and presses the heels of his hands against his forehead. I hate the confusion and pain in Marco’s eyes. I hate that I’m causing any part of it.

My fingers find his again, tethering us. “You never thought what?”

“I’d get the chance.”

I’m not brave enough to tell him how often he crossed my mind. “I doubt you have trouble finding girls who want to kiss you.” I nudge him with my shoulder, trying to sound playful instead of jealous.

“You’re the only girl I want to kiss.” Marco raises our intertwined hands and holds them against his heart. Our hands fit together perfectly. Not all hands fit. Or all people. “I plan on doing a lot more of it if you’ll let me. But I can’t turn on Deacon. We’re brothers, whether we share the same blood or not. He saved Sofia’s life, and he’s had my back whenever I needed him.”

The jagged scars on Deacon’s neck flash through my mind—proof of the sacrifice he made. Even if I’m not crazy about Deacon, he must have some good inside.

“My dad and his partner are really good at their jobs. It’s only a matter of time before someone screws up or they find the evidence they need to make an arrest.” And it scares me to death.

Marco rubs his nose against mine. Mom used to do the same thing, back when she was still my mom and not King Richard’s robotic queen.

“I don’t have the right to ask, but if you stick with me, all this will be over soon. Except the part about your dad hating my guts.” He nuzzles my neck, sending waves of heat through every inch of my body. “If you don’t want to decide now, I’ll give you space.” His fingers tighten around mine, his heart beating fast beneath our joined hands.

With my free hand I trace a path from the hollow of his neck and down his chest until I reach his waistband. I freeze, my hand on his stomach. “I don’t want space. I want…”

If you say it out loud, it’s real.

“What?” The anticipation in his voice makes me bold.

“I want you.” I untangle my fingers from his and loop my arms around his neck, my damp T-shirt pressing against his warm skin.

Marco stares at me, his eyes searching mine. “There’s something I need to tell you. But I’m scared it will come out wrong.”

I swallow hard. I’m afraid to ask, but I’m just as afraid not to ask. “Tell me anyway.”

He pulls me closer. “I love you, Frankie. And it’s the always kind.”

He loves me.

I forget to breathe. Or maybe I can’t.

I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I love Marco’s strength and his kindness, the way he protects the people he loves and makes me feel safe.

I love him.

But I didn’t think he could feel that way about me.

Marco’s lips brush across mine slowly … so slow that it creates sensations I’ve never experienced before. I bite my bottom lip, fighting the urge to press my mouth against his. Whatever he’s doing—the slow and deliberate contact—creates a sweet push and pull inside me.

When the tension feels unbearable, I kiss my way up his neck, and he moans. “You’re killing me.” His hands slide under my shirt, pulling it up as they reach the edge of my lacy bra. I sigh, and it unleashes the hunger between us like a dam breaking.

Marco picks me up, and I hook my legs around him. He carries me to the sofa like I weigh nothing. When my back hits the soft cushions, I tug on his bottom lip because it drives him crazy. He lowers himself over me, somehow managing to press his body against mine without crushing me with his weight.

Marco pushes my shirt up again, and I love the way his skin feels against my stomach. “Can I take this off? I want to look at you.”

I try to slip my arms out, but the damp cotton clings to me. Marco does a sweeping move with his hand, gathering the hem and slipping it up my arms and over my head.

He sits back on his heels and stares at me. The room doesn’t seem half as dark now that a gorgeous guy is checking me out in my bra. Thank you, pushy old lady in the lingerie department, for talking me into buying a decent-looking bra—one that makes what little I have appear bigger.

I cross my arms over my chest, which is one small piece of lace away from being completely exposed.

“Don’t do that.” He runs his index finger down the center of my neck, gently nudging my arms away from my chest as he continues the path to my belly button. “You’re beautiful.”

“Stop.” I try to pull him down. When he won’t budge, I prop myself up on my elbows.

He stares into my eyes with an intensity that makes me feel naked. “I want to remember this.”

Tiny flashes of light catch in my peripheral vision.

A cell phone hovering above me.

“Ready?” Noah asks. “I’ll take the picture on three. I want to remember this.”