The Promise (The 'Burg #5)(140)
A house isn’t a home.
Jesus.
Jesus.
Frankie kept bossing.
“You do the basement. But while I’m sorting stuff, I’ll need you around to ask questions if I find something I don’t know if I should toss or keep.”
She finished this, moving Gus close to her face to give him a snuggle, and the puppy showed his appreciation by licking her jaw.
Benny’s voice sounded gruff when he asked, “Where’m I gonna be?”
She looked at him. “What?”
“You said you’d need me around. Where would I be?”
“I don’t know, pullin’ a man stunt and disappearing when shit work needs to get done you don’t want to do, as evidenced by the fact you’ve lived in his house for a long freakin’ time and you haven’t done it.”
“What are we doin’ here, baby?” he asked quietly, and her brows shot together.
“Talkin’ about makin’ your house a home, Benny.”
Fucking shit.
“For me or for you and me?” he pressed, and her face went blank.
That was when he knew she had no idea what it meant, all she was saying.
He had an idea of what it meant. He just hoped like f**k he was right.
So he kept pushing.
“You movin in with me?”
Her voice was breathy and her hold on Gus was close when she replied with a question.
“You askin’ me?”
“Take you today, you could swing it,” he answered.
“Benny,” she whispered, face soft, eyes now just holding marvel and love.
A lot of love.
Christ, she was all the way across the kitchen and she had so much love shining out of her eyes, he felt it warm every inch of his body.
He took that as a yes.
And there it was. His birthday just kept getting better.
“You gonna be able to swing that?” he asked.
“I…I have a lease.”
“When’s it run out?”
“October.”
“Then you move in in October,” he declared.
“Ben, I work in Indianapolis,” she said quietly.
“You travel half the time, they got no problem with you workin’ from here. Ask ’em if you can have a home office in Chicago and conference in for meetings. You in my bed, my house, got no problem with clearing out that basement, gettin’ a computer with Internet, and givin’ you a guestroom so your f**ked-up family can stay, drive us crazy, and we can celebrate when they get the f**k out.”
She stared at him but said nothing.
“You think they’ll go for that?” he asked.
“I think, come my one-year anniversary, which is the same month my lease runs out, if they don’t, then I’ll quit and find a job in Chicago.”
Jesus.
Jesus.
“Come here, Frankie,” he growled.
“No. I do, you’re gonna get busy with me and the cake will burn.”
“Come here, cara.”
“No, I can tell by your face you’re happy and I’m super happy and all that happy is gonna translate into ruined birthday cake.”
“Baby. Put the dog down and come…here.”
She bent to put Gus on the floor and came to him. When she got close, he guided her ass in his lap and rounded her with his arms. As he did this, Frankie wrapped hers around his shoulders.
When he had her where he wanted her, he said softly, “Best birthday ever.”
Beauty saturated her features, more than he’d ever seen from her, and he’d spent decades seeing a lot of beauty from Francesca Concetti.
“My awesome Benny,” she replied in a whisper, her arms tightening, one hand finding his neck and curling around, but her body melted into his.
“You’ve made me happy, tesorina.”
“I’m glad.”
“Kiss me, Frankie.”
“Okay, Benny.”
She put her lips to his, but it was Benny who took her mouth, leaning into her, bending her back, and drinking deep, one of his hands going down, then up her shirt and down again in her panties to cup her bare ass, both her hands diving into his hair.
He broke the kiss but didn’t move far away and waited for her eyes to slowly open, giving him crazy-beauty before he said, “Love you, Francesca.”
“Love you too, honey.”
He grinned, held her closer, but ordered, “Now go make frosting.”
She rolled her eyes, but she also pushed up, he went with her, and she climbed out of his lap.
After that, Gus under her feet, tripping her up, and her not minding, Frankie made frosting.
* * * * *
“Okay,” Frankie said, skip-walking into his bedroom that night.
It was after the dinner she’d made him (roast beef tenderloin, boiled new potatoes, asparagus coated in oil and toasted sesame seeds, and rolls Mrs. Zambino bought the day before from the bakery). It was after cake. It was after he told her he wanted her ass upstairs because he wanted to see another nightie. She showed him and wore it for about five minutes before he took it off so she could sit on his face and he could have his mouth on her while she used hers on him.
She’d put the nightie back on (red satin with a sheer panel around the hem and matching panties that had sheer at the ass, sweet but nowhere as sweet as the plum one) and gone back downstairs to grab his presents from where she’d hid them.