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They had returned back to the Garage, climbing up the stairs to his room, shutting and locking the door behind them. Frank's hands were on her waist, gently, and Charlie slowly lifted his mask up.

He allowed her, watching as her pupils dilated and filled with nothing but adoration. She was the only other person to see his face and she was the only one who looked at it with nothing but unconditional love. She let the mask fall to the floor, her hands cupping his face as she looked so closely at his features.

Her fingertips grazed every single scar, his steel grey eyes burning with passion as he watched her eyes focus on the contours of his face. To her, he was gorgeous. Even with the scars and the scruff on his jaw, the grey colored eyes and the buzzed hair, the slightly crooked nose from god knows how many times it was broken, his sharp jawline and high cheekbones. The scars only seemed to make him look more beautiful. She was completely captivated by him that she didn't notice he was backing her to the bed until the back of her knees hit the mattress, their bodies fell together, Frank atop her.

"How long you gonna stare at me?" he asked, smirking.

Her eyes darting down to his lips. "Do that again."

"What?" he furrowed his dark brows at her.


As she said it, her lips curved in a grin and as he watched her smile, he smiled as well. His grin was blindingly bright and by far one of the best smiles she'd seen on someone. Slowly, she lifted her head and kissed him. He quickly fell into the kiss, moving his mouth with hers. It was a slow, hard kiss, burning with so much passion and filled to the brim with their love for each other.

The kiss grew harder and more feverish. They grabbed at each other, their tongues twining together. She moaned softly into the kiss, the pit of her stomach burning with pleasure. The kiss ended with them pulling apart from each other, panting and looking into each others eyes, their eyes filled with hunger.

"You sure you wanna go through with this?" he asked and she watched in amazement as his eyes swirled with worry and care.

Although it seemed like nothing, she was grateful he stopped and asked before continuing. When she was with her ex boyfriend--the psychotic son of Mikhailov who she had killed in self-defense--he took what he wanted and, at the time, she thought it was normal. In the arms of this man she felt the most care. She smiled at him and it was unlike any smile he'd seen before, it was like she was glowing and even more breathtaking than he thought possible.

She leaned up and pecked his lips, looking him in the eye. "I wouldn't want to do it with any other," she said, watching as he smiled down at her, kissing her yet again.

He leaned back, using his mouth to grab the collar of his jumpsuit and one hand to unzip it. He removed the top part, revealing a black tank top underneath and his tattooed-covered arms. She watched him, like he was a show on TV, as he removed the tank top, revealing the rest of his tatted body. He was ripped. Like a body builder. His abs were there but not fully defined, his arms were buff, his collar bones defined; he looked to be molded right out of clay.

His hands grabbed her waist and she sat up slightly, moving her arms to remove her t-shirt. Her face erupted into flames as she suddenly remembered, in the moment, that she wasn't all that in shape and her stomach hung over the band of her underwear. Her arms snaked around her stomach and Frank leaned over her, placing his mouth delicately on her neck. She moaned softly, turning her head for him.

"What's the matter?" he asked her, looking her in the eye, his eyes dark and swirling with desire.

She hummed nervously, her cheeks burning. "Sorry," she said so quietly, his heart aching at her small voice. "I'm a little...nervous."

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