“So I think we should start with the cookie bars because they take the—” I couldn’t finish the sentence before a warm, hard body settled at my back. Frankie’s impressive, sinewed hands came down right outside my own on the marble, and the tops of his thighs pressed my hips against the cold ledge. We both heard my breath catch. “You wore these shorts to torture me,” he whispered against my ear, nudging his nose through my hair. “Because you want me to look at you and forget how to keep my hands to myself.”
