Undeniable by Madeline Sheehan Page B

expression. There was nothing simple or comfortable about him.  He reminded me of a house that was too expensive, too new, too clean, too perfect, to feel comfortable in. 
    Kami despised him.
    She had been cheating on him with her personal trainer since they had gotten home from their honeymoon.  He cheated on her with a variety of women, none of whom lasted longer than a few weeks, if that.
    It was ridiculous. 
    “Don’t like the way he looks at you babe.”
    I snorted.  “Frankie, you don’t like anyone looking at me.  Period.  You didn't like my college professor's looking at me when I raised my hand.  Remember Professor Reynolds?  Daddy had to pay him off big time for the beating you gave him.  Besides, Chase thinks I’m biker trash.”
    “Bitch, get a fuckin’ clue!” Frankie yelled.  “Asshole looks at you like he’s fuckin’ starvin’ and you’re a goddamn steak!”
    Letting my hair down, I rolled my eyes.  Men.  Always hungry. 
    “Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”
    “Waitin’ for your sweet ass so I can walk you out.”
    I shook my head and smiled at him. 
    Frankie was a great looking man.  Long brown hair, a scruffy beard, a body made for sex, covered in tattoos and sexy scars.  He was good in bed, too.  A good combination of attentive and demanding and he didn’t stray.  This I knew because wherever I was, at home, at the clubhouse, in the supermarket, in the shower, Frankie was there too.  Or somewhere nearby.  Or on his way there.  Or skyping me.  Or tracking me through my cell phone with his cellphone.
    Three years ago I had come home from Montana and was met with insanity the likes of which I'd never seen before.  The club was in an uproar, first because I'd gone missing, second because Frankie had completely flipped his shit and was beating on anyone who got near him, beating himself with the butt of his gun, bashing his head and fists into walls until they bled, screaming, swearing and cursing me to hell.
    Ignoring my father's temper tantrum and responsibility speech I went straight to Frankie ’s room and found him curled up in a corner covered in blood.
    "Shit," I muttered, getting to my knees beside him.
    "Frankie," I whispered.  "Baby, look at me."
    He moved fast.  His hands shot out and gripped both my forearms.  Dragging me down to the floor, he rolled over top of me. Blood encrusted eyelids blinked down at me. 
    "Eva," He croaked.  "Where the fuck have you been?"
    "I just needed some breathing room baby, I'm sorry I left you."
    He cupped my cheeks, ran his fingers through my hair, then down to my shoulders and up and down my arms.  Before I knew it, his hands were all over me, pulling the top of my sundress down, baring my breasts.  He took one in his ha nd and the other in his mouth.
    “Fuck,” I breathed.  “Frankie, no…”
    “Not waitin’ anymore, babe,” He muttered around my breast.  Lifting his hips, he pulled the hem of my dress up.
    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 fuckin’ let you say no to me anymore.  You get me?  You’re not fuckin’ runnin’ from me anymore.  Told you a long time ago you were mine and its ‘bout time you got that shit through your thick fuckin’ 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 then rubbed his hand over me, wetting me, then he was back, pushing inside.
    “Frankie!” I screamed, trying to wiggle backwards to prevent him from fully