When I was done yelling, he whispered, “What the fuck?”
“You’re right,” I snapped, throwing out a hand. “I came onto you after Vinnie died. You kissed me, but I made the first move.”
“I know that, baby,” he replied, still whispering.
“It was a slutty thing to do.”
“You were drunk.”
“It was slutty.”
“Francesca, you were plastered, outta your mind, totally blotto. So was I. You lost your man, I lost my brother, you’re a woman, I’m a guy, and shit happened seven years ago. It wasn’t right. We both fucked up. We both knew it. And now it’s over.”
“That’s it?” I clipped.
“That’s it,” he returned immediately.
“And you don’t think I’m a slut.”
His body went solid and my heart squeezed hard.
“You think I’m a slut,” I whispered.
“No,” he bit out.
“You do. I can read it, Benny Bianchi. It’s written all over you.”
“Babe—”
I shook my head, looking toward the door, demanding, “Take me home.”
“Babe—”
I looked to him and shrieked, “Take me home, Benny!”
“Frankie, baby. Fuck. I know Vinnie took your virginity.”
I took two steps back and stared.
He watched my feet move and his eyes cut to my face. “Yeah. This would be the awkward, uncomfortable shit we’ll be needin’ to get through.” He lifted a hand, tore it through his fabulous hair, looking to the side and finishing on a mutter, “All a’ this shit.”
“Vinnie told you that?” I whispered, and Benny looked back to me.
“Yeah,” he ground out.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
“Loved him. He was a good guy until he turned bad. But he had a big fuckin’ mouth.”
“Oh my God,” I repeated.
I wanted to die. I wanted to rewind to the forest and not make it out.
Vinnie talked about me, as in about me.
To Benny!
“Frankie—”
“How much do you know?” I asked.
“Babe—”
I leaned toward him. “How much do you know, Benny Bianchi?”
He answered in a way that seemed he was forcing the words to come out, “I know I got some work to do to get you to enjoy goin’ down on me.”
I looked to the ceiling and cried, “Oh my God!”
“Babe, come here.”
I looked to him and shook my head. “No. Take me home.”
“Frankie, come here.”
“This is humiliating,” I hissed.
“What this is, is me tellin’ you I know you’re not a slut. You weren’t then, you could never be. It isn’t in you, babe. Fuck, you were twenty-one when you gave it up the first time and you haven’t had a man since.”
“How do you know that?” I snapped.
“Babe, I was into you. I’m still into you. I never stopped bein’ into you. I paid attention.”
Even though I liked that, a whole lot, I was too mortified to allow that good feeling to penetrate so I just glared at him.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” he pushed.
I just kept glaring at him.
“I’m right,” he muttered.
“Take me home,” I demanded.
“Frankie—”
“Honestly,” I bit out. “Do you think we can get beyond this? You knowin’ your brother was the only one?”
“It didn’t even occur to me when I had my hand on your ass and my tongue in your mouth yesterday. And do not go where you’re goin’, Frankie, because Vinnie didn’t cross your mind either.”
I shut my mouth that I’d opened in order to retort in precisely the way Benny knew I would because Vinnie didn’t. He didn’t cross my mind. Not until Benny started talking about him.
That was all about Benny and what Benny was doing to me.
“All right then, how about this?” I threw out. “I’m not a big fan of blowjobs.”
“Then, no offense to my dead brother, he didn’t teach you right.”
I threw up my hands. “Do you not find this entire conversation bizarre?”
“Babe, seriously, I get you naked, I’ll get you to the point where you latch on and be so into what you’re doin’, you’ll come before I can pull you off and bury myself inside you.”
“Arrrrrr!” I screamed, mostly because, all of sudden, I had an overwhelming desire to give Benny a blowjob.
Crazy!
Just as suddenly, I was in his arms.
I jerked my body, but his arms went tight.
“Calm,” he growled.
I went still and glared up at him.
“You are not a slut.” He kept growling.
I kept glaring up at him.
“And I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about us if they see us together. They judge, they gotta answer to God for that, not me or you.”
I just kept glaring at him.
Benny withstood it for some time before he asked, “You have lunch?”
“Old lady Zambino treated her entire crew to Coney dogs from the concession stand in celebration of their resounding win.”
“Too bad. I was gonna haul our asses to Lincoln’s for a sub.”
At this offer, my shoulders went straight and I shared, “I’m still peckish.”
“A sub on top of a Coney dog is gonna fuck with your Giuseppe’s experience.”
“Nothing fucks with a Giuseppe’s experience.”
Benny grinned.
Then he asked, “You done freakin’ out?”
I absolutely was not.
This realization made me slump in his arms.
I aimed my eyes at his shoulder, saying, “All of this is weird.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, and I looked back to him. “It’s weird. It’s awkward. It sucks. It reminds me I shoulda asked you out when I wanted to ask you out my senior year but didn’t because it was known wide you didn’t put out. But now we’re here. We’ll get past it. And at least it’s at a time when I’m sure I can convince you to put out and give you a whole lot better than I could have when I was seventeen.”
I blinked at him.
Then I asked breathily, “You wanted to ask me out when we were in high school?”
“Babe, you’re crazy-beautiful and got great tits, great legs, a great ass, and an unbelievable smile, and you had all a’ that back then too. So yeah. Fuck yeah. Every guy in high school wanted a piece of you.”
Oh my God.
I’d had three dates in high school.
Three!
And none of them good.
I felt my brows draw together. “Then why didn’t they ask me?”
“Because, Frankie, baby, you didn’t put out.”
It was then I felt my blood start to get hot.
“Was that the only prerequisite for a girl to get a date?”
“Pretty much. Outside of her needin’ to be hot. But you had that.”
“That’s disgusting,” I hissed.
“Frankie,” he said, and my name rumbled with the laughter that was shaking his body against mine. “That was eighteen years ago, in a time when I thought with my dick.”
My brows shot up. “You don’t anymore?”
“Okay, it was in a time when I thought with my dick ninety-nine percent of the time, rather than now, when I think with my dick only fifty percent of the time, or anytime I’m around you.”
“That’s disgusting too.”
“It was meant to be a compliment.”
“It failed.”
“Babe,” he said, his arms giving me a squeeze. “You are not shitting me that you don’t like the idea of me bein’ all about my dick and where I wanna put it when I’m with you.”
I was looking forward to a time when I could throw something at him without tearing open my wound when he pissed me off.
Like when he was right and he went about being right in a crude way that I found annoyingly arousing.