Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
It’s been a few nights since we started puppy training together—since we had that first session when our lips locked, and we shared an intense, powerful kiss that even just thinking about at work gets my dick hard enough that I have to step closer to the counter to keep customers from noticing the bulge under my apron.
I wasn’t really sure what the kiss was about—the excitement of the moment or something more between Frankie and me. But when we went out that night, there wasn’t any uneasiness about it…or confusion…or worry. I could tell by the way he acted, by the way we were around each other, same as always, that regardless of what it could have meant, everything really would still be fine between us.
It’s actually been more than fine, though.
I’m not sure if it was just the puppy training or that kiss, but it’s like the connection that Frankie and I have always shared through our friendship has strengthened.
We find the rest of the gang and dance for a bit before Frankie and I take a break and get some more drinks for everyone.
“I like this harness look on you,” Frankie says. “Derek did a good job helping you pick it out.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I tell him, meaning it.
“Oh, this old thing,” he says playfully, earning a laugh.
“You know what you’d look hotter in?” he adds. I know he’s referring to the hood, but I like how even in this setting he didn’t say the words. He understands the importance of being discreet about it, and I trust he would never tell anyone about my secret, that he wouldn’t ever betray me like that. I think that’s part of the reason why I trust him so much in what we’re doing together with this puppy training.
Frankie’s never abused my trust the way others have.
When I was working as a model, there were always guys who tried to take advantage—photographers and even other models. It left me guarded and not very trusting of people. Peter managed to break through those barriers through manipulation, but Frankie has broken through by sincerely being a good guy.
The past few days, we’ve experimented more. Frankie is still trying to get me to open up to my puppy self, encouraging me through pushing, trying to help me. Something I’m deeply appreciative of—something I’m not sure I’d even be willing to really do without someone like him. If I had tried with Z, I know I would have backed out. I couldn’t open up like that, not to some stranger.
We hang out with the gang some more before we head back to Metropolis and get our usual Chinese order, watching the final episode of Big Little Lies and freaking out through every plot twist.
I lie in his lap, just in a pair of boxers as he offers pets and strokes the way he would when I’m in my puppy hood, because surely he gets why I need it.
When we finish discussing the conclusion of the miniseries, I’m on my back, my head in his lap.
He gazes down at me with this warm expression on his face.
He’s shirtless, in pajama bottoms, wearing his beanie, which he wasn’t wearing at the leather bar tonight.
I reach up and tug at the edge, pulling it down over his eyes.
He doesn’t fight me, just smirks before saying, “Ev, Ev, I can’t see…where are you?”
He feels around and starts tickling at my ribs.
“No, no, stop!” I call out as I retaliate with my own tickles. Soon, we’re both laughing our asses off.
“Truce!” Frankie cries out, and we both cease our tickle-attacks.
Frankie pulls his beanie back up, cocking a brow at me.
I’m still giggling a little bit when he says, “You down for training tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
“Like we talked about last time, you’re still in your head a bit. And I’m definitely not all that convinced with your bark yet.”
“I’m trying.”
I kind of feel like I’m letting him down.
“Hey, hey,” he says. “We’ve only done this a few times. You’re not doing it wrong. I just…can tell that you’re trying, and I want to help. Is there anything I do that makes you feel uneasy? Or for you to feel like it prevents you from being yourself.”
“No, not at all. I don’t know if there’s anybody I would feel more comfortable doing this with than you.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” There’s a seriousness to the way he says that, in stark contrast to how playful we were just being. It’s the protective nature he has that always makes me feel so safe when I’m with him.
“Frankie, you’re not doing anything wrong. It’s just still a little strange. I feel like I’m getting better, but it’s like there’s this part of me that I can’t let go of.…I don’t know. Like there are all these people in my head, telling me that it’s stupid or crazy.”