“Go enjoy the snow, honey.” The command rumbles out of him with a tinge of annoyance, but his eyes never leave yours even though he’s speaking to Greta. He is still trying to gauge your reaction.
“Jealous?” he jokes, but he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t want you to be, just a little.
Oh, how it pours out of him now, like smooth, molten, needy lava. He knows how to seduce through song, but it hasn’t felt quite like this before, the energy pulsing through him in crashing waves, leaving him floating and unmoored. It’s just you and him—with him telling you how he feels the in the only way he can. He ravishes you with his voice and his eyes because he can’t ravish you with his body.
“I see you’ve met my Lori,” Elvis says possessively, ignoring the look of pure bewilderment on your face and flashing a grin at Sinatra that is halfway between a sneer and a warning. Somehow, he manages to pull you in even tighter against him, your small frame pressed against the side of him, and even through his anger he is aware of every inch and the way your arm unfolds behind his back. The whoosh of his blood is loud in his ears.
Pure male posturing is what it is, and Frank is attuned enough to know what’s happening even if he doesn’t know exactly why. Frank smiles a knowing and conceding grin, moving back half a step.
Broken Glass Chapter 8 vibes
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I was so lonesome, I was blue (so bluueeeee babbbbbyyyyy)
I couldn't help it, it had to be you and I (it had to be youuuu and iiiiiiii)
Always thought you knew the reason why (kneeeeewwwww the reasoooonnnnnnnn whhhyyyyyyyy)
I only wanted a little love affair (litttlllleeeee loooovvvvveeeeeee afffffaaaaaiiiiirrrr)
Now I can see you are beginning to care (beginning to caarrrrreeeeeee)
But baby, believe me (believe me babbbyyyyy)
It's better to forget me (TO FORGET ME)
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