“It’s probably best we wait here for a bit,” Frank said after the manager approached us to return the Amex along with the mile long receipt and to let us know about the crowd gathered outside.
“Maybe we can sneak out this time?” I offered.
“Did it freak you out?”
“What?”
“The people?”
I nodded. “A little.” In a way, crowds were my specialty too, but today’s lobby incident had unsettled me. The experience was equally eye-opening and terrifying.
Frank shifted in his seat and looked down at me, his gaze roaming my face. “I’m glad you agreed to this.”
“Did you like the movie?”
“It was”—his features hardened—“intense.”
I bit back a smile. Something told me he hadn’t been paying any attention. “You had to really think about it, huh? Was Blake Lively not that impressive?”
“Oh, she was very impressive.” He grinned.
“You and your unhealthy obsession with other women.” With a pout, I slapped him across his chest. It was just a light pat, but it triggered something in me and cold panic rushed through my stomach.
Frank didn’t move. His eyes were still locked on mine.
“I’m sorry I pushed you,” I said quietly, my voice trembling.
“I was wasted and I’m sure I deserved it.” He took my hand and rested it against his pec. “I wanted this to be a fun night. Let’s try and get out of here, huh?”
“Okay,” I agreed.
Frank waved at one of the guards and asked him to have the valet attendant bring the car to the rear of the building. We left the theater a few minutes later and used the back exit.
Outside, the air was fresh. A couple of fans approached Frank to ask for an autograph while I slid behind the wheel of the Ferrari and waited. The kids seemed thoroughly impressed that Frankie Blade took time out to talk to them. He politely refused photos but signed T-shirts and shook hands.
Watching him with other people filled me with warmth. He was kind and attentive, despite the fact that these little uncomfortable moments cut into his everyday life. Or maybe this was his everyday life. He’d said so himself. Celebrities were a different breed. They sacrificed their privacy in exchange for immortality. In exchange for their rightful spot in history. Be it politics, science, or music.
Once Frank got to the car, the smile on his face fell. “Let’s get out of here.” He fastened his seatbelt and rested his hand on my thigh again as if he needed to touch me to keep going. His knee jerked.
“Are you okay?” I asked, shifting gears. The growl of the engine muffled my voice.
Frank turned his head to look at me. His palm on my skirt remained fixed. “I am.”
I knew he was lying. My father had also gotten antsy when he didn’t get his fix of alcohol. Difference was, my father never acknowledged he had a problem. My lover did.
We merged into the traffic on La Brea and came to a stop at a red light. The Ferrari purred like a wildcat. The tinted windows hid us from the eyes of those who wondered to whom this half-million-dollar car belonged. I wasn’t sure my guess at the price tag was correct, but Ashton had once taken the liberty to Google-stalk my boyfriend and that was the alleged amount that had come up online. Although tabloids were never a trusted source of information.
“I had a really nice time,” I said, trying to ignore the sudden need in my core when Frank moved his hand up my thigh.
“I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve taken a woman to see a movie.” Readjusting his seatbelt, Frank shifted to face me. Then his head neared mine, eyes sparkling, and his hand slipped to the back of my neck to pull me in for a kiss. The assault of his lips was unexpected and raw. He didn’t tease or prepare me. He took what he wanted with aggression. I didn’t know whether he needed a distraction from what was happening in his head or he wanted me for the same reason I always wanted him—because we were recklessly addicted to each other. Whatever his motive was, though, I welcomed it and I gave in to him.
My foot on the brake shook and my entire body lit up. I clutched the steering wheel harder. Adrenaline filled the air, forcing out oxygen and the remains of our common sense.
We were surrounded by hundreds of hungry-for-gossip eyes.
In my peripheral, the green light flashed. Chest heaving, I broke the kiss unwillingly and hit the gas. The vehicle responded with a rumble and a jerk. It had taken me a while to truly understand the power and the beauty of this car and why Frank loved it so much.
Fingers still tangled in my hair, he rasped against my cheek, “My girl looks very sexy driving a Ferrari.”
I liked that he was never afraid to give up the lead, that he didn’t have to be in charge all the time. In sex or otherwise. We fit together perfectly.
Frank leaned back in his seat and returned his hand to my skirt. Pleasant chills rushed through me as his apt fingers stroked my skin.
We slowly pushed through the gridlock packing the Hollywood Freeway entrance. I wiggled and parted my legs when the car came to another stop. He caught on quick. His hand slid to my inner thigh and found the lace of my panties. The playful brush felt like almost too much. Even through fabric.
I reminded myself to breathe. My heartbeat was like a Slipknot song, savage and loud.
Frank turned to me and I felt his gaze burn my right cheek. My eyes stayed on the dark road, littered with lights, but my mind was elsewhere. In the land of dirty desires and naughty fantasies.
“Have you ever had an orgasm while driving a Ferrari, doll?” Frank asked, bringing his body closer to
