Undeniable (Undeniable, #1)(29)

I tried to push him off me. “I’m not going to leave you again!” I promised. “We don’t need to do this!”

Frankie dug his fingers in between my knees and wrenched my legs open. His hips surged forward, forcing them to stay open, and he yanked on his belt. I started to panic.

“Please!” I cried. “Please don’t do this!”

“No, baby,” he growled. “I’m not gonna f*ckin’ let you say no to me anymore. You get me? You’re not f*ckin’ runnin’ from me anymore. Told you a long time ago you were mine, and it’s ’bout time you got that shit through your thick f*ckin’ skull.”

This was all said while he was opening his belt and unzipping his jeans. Now he was yanking my underwear to one side, and I could feel him trying to enter me.

“Wait!” I cried, shoving at his chest. “Don’t!”

“Fuck,” he muttered. He spit in his palm, rubbed his hand over me, wetting me, and then he was back, pushing inside.

“Frankie!” I screamed, trying to wiggle backward to prevent him from fully seating himself.

“STOP!”

His hand slapped down over my mouth. I kept screaming, but the sound was muffled and hoarse, and no one heard but Frankie and me.

“Been waitin’ too f*ckin’ long for this,” he groaned, pushing harder, his heavy chest crushing my attempts at moving him. “You’re not f*ckin’ stoppin’ me anymore. You’re never f*ckin’ stoppin’ me again.”

He thrust. Hard. And found purchase. I stilled, tears in my eyes, staring up at him. Frankie had just forced himself on me, inside of me. My Frankie. It was surreal, confusing, like a dream or a movie you remember from a long time ago.

“Lock your ankles around my back,” he rasped. Dazed, I did as he asked. He released my mouth to grip my backside and pump harder. Numb, I listened to his skin slapping against mine, his heavy breathing, and my head knocking against the wall.

“How the f*ck could you leave me?” he rasped. “I can’t f*ckin’ sleep without you, haven’t f*ckin’ slept in days. You f*ckin’ did that to me, bitch. You f*ckin’ let that happen.”

I had. I’d known he was going to freak, and I’d left him anyway. I should have realized this was going to happen—that he would completely lose it and need to bind me to him in a way he thought was permanent.

God, this was all my fault.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered brokenly. “God, Frankie, I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“No shit,” he hissed. “You won’t f*ckin’ like what happens if you do…Eva…f*ck, baby…I’m gonna come…f*ck…”

His hips slammed into me, banging my head harder into the wall. “I’m coming, baby, I’m f*ckin’ coming…”

I stared up at the ceiling. I wasn’t on birth control. I would need to get the morning after pill. I blinked. Did all of our bedroom ceilings look like that? I wasn’t sure. I made a mental note to check.

“Fuckin’ love you, Eva,” Frankie breathed.

I wiped my tears away and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I love you, too, baby,” I whispered, holding him tight, rubbing his back and murmuring apologies.

It wasn’t a lie. I did love Frankie. With all my heart. But it was the wrong kind of love. I loved him like a best friend or a big brother—and not at all like a lover. But he forced his way into the lover category, and there was nothing I could do. He needed me. He wasn’t going to let me go, so I gave him what he needed and tried to make the best of it.

That was three years ago.

Three years of being on the back of Frankie’s bike and in Frankie’s bed—which was actually mine. My room at the clubhouse was bigger and better.

“Who do you love, babe?”

I finished brushing my hair and walked out of the bathroom. “You,” I said.

“Fuck yeah, you do.”

Frankie finished dressing and sat down on the bed to pull his boots on. He looked me over and frowned. “Lot of leg you’re showin’, babe.”

I snorted. “Hardly.”

Suddenly, Frankie was on his feet, unbuckling his belt and reaching for me.

“Jesus!” I screamed, scrambling away from him. “Focus, you horny bastard! You have a meeting! I have a breakfast date!”

He had my belly pressed up against the wall in two seconds flat. His tongue shot across my neck.

“Don’t care, babe. You can’t f*ckin’ walk around half-naked and expect me to keep my hands off.”

“You don’t play fair,” I whispered.

“When it comes to you, Eva, I don’t f*ckin’ play at all.”

It was nearly an hour before Frankie decided it was time to go to his meeting, and even then, he did so reluctantly.

? ? ?

Deuce frowned at Preacher. “Don’t know whatcha talkin’ ’bout, old man. I got no connections with Angelo Buonarroti. His old man, yeah. Couple of his cousins, too, but not him. If you lost your deal with them, it ain’t on me.”

“You’re full of it,” Preacher growled. “My boys seen yours on the f*ckin’ docks.”

“Can’t help it if my boys in Queens got business on the side. They got families to take care of.”