The Worst Best Man(44)

“Sorry about ruining our pictures,” Chip told Pru.

She shook her head at him. “Everything was absolutely perfect. Think of the story we’ll have to tell our grandkids someday,” Pru told him. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“I have Frankie and Aiden to thank for that.”

“Ahem!” Frankie cleared her throat, staring pointedly at Aiden.

“Almost entirely Franchesca,” he admitted. “In fact, I’m afraid I’m due the blame, not the thanks. It’s my fault Elliot took Chip.”

Pru stopped mid-dance and prodded Aiden in his impeccable lapel. “Make him pay.”

“You can count on it,” Aiden promised.

Pru nodded and melted back into Chip’s arms.

“Wait, wait, wait. That’s it?” Frankie demanded, squirming against Aiden’s hold. “He gets your groom kidnapped, lets him almost miss the wedding, and you’re totally fine with it?”

Pru stared up into Chip’s one good eye. “Aiden will take care of whatever needs taking care of.”

“Where is the girl who made me grovel for three days after I ate the last cannoli junior year?”

“Those cannoli were freaking amazing! Heaven in my mouth,” Pru argued.

“I know! My father made them!”

“Yeah, well, you said I could have as many as I wanted, and I was on my period. And I wanted that last one.”

“Three days. Over cannoli. You get her husband kidnapped and ‘oh, it’s fine.’ Life is not fair,” Frankie announced to Aiden.

“Shut up and dance with the handsome man while I make out with my pirate husband,” Pru said, shooing them away.

“You should listen to your best friend,” Aiden said, his voice was a rumble low in his chest.

She tilted her head back to look at him and regretted her decision. Why? WHY did he have to be so beautiful? His cheekbones were sculpted like a team of angels had weighed in on the exact right proportions. His beard was neatly trimmed moving him from clean cut to rakish. And all that dark curling hair? She wanted to shove her hands into it and grip while she shoved his face between…

Fuuuuuck.

She was no better than stupid Margeaux. Why did she want him? God, was she so desperate she’d fuck a guy just because he was hot?

As if reading her mind, Aiden drew her to the side of the dance floor and pulled her just a little tighter against him.

“I’m not a bad guy, Franchesca. I’ve made mistakes, but I’m not some heartless villain.”

“Would you have felt the least bit bad if your brother had ruined their wedding?”

“Of course I would have. And he will pay for what he did with more than just a broken nose.”

“Is it really broken?” Frankie asked hopefully. She’d thrown more than her fair share of punches, growing up with two brothers that lived to torment her. And when she sprouted boobs, those same brothers wanted to make sure she could fight off any guy not good enough for her.

“Definitely,” he said. His hand cruised over her back until it met bare skin.

She ignited. She never wanted something that she wasn’t sure she’d survive before. She didn’t like it.

“I need some air,” she breathed, pushing out of his grip. What she needed was more tequila. A bottle of it. And a flight home. She couldn’t afford to play with the rich and famous anymore. She wouldn’t get out unscathed.

He let her go, but she felt the weight of that hot stare on her until she jogged down the steps and disappeared onto the sand. The moon glimmered over the water, another perfect slice of paradise.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” she murmured, stalking toward the ocean. Was there a friggin’ cupid mosquito down here that she wasn’t aware of? She’d had sex before. Plenty of it. She liked it. But one look from Aiden and her underwear melted off of her body. “Stay mad,” she coached herself, pacing down the beach. It was safer. Maybe Pru was feeling forgiving, but that didn’t mean she had to.

Someone had to keep their wits about them.

She felt him before she saw him emerging from the shadows. Frankie’s breath caught in her throat as Aiden walked toward her.

“I’ve never chased anyone, Franchesca.” The moonlight played over his perfect face, shadowing the hollows beneath his cheekbones. He had his hands in his pockets, deceptively relaxed. But there was no doubt that he was a hunter and she was the prey. Another challenge.

“Why do you want me, Aiden? And don’t give me some bullshit about me being beautiful and special. I already know I am, just like I know that I’m not your type. So ask yourself why it’s me you’re chasing and not some high society princess who’d beg to be ass up in your bed.”

“That is exactly why it’s you and not Margeaux or Cressida or whatever the fuck the other one’s name is. I want that smart, wicked mouth of yours wrapped around my cock as you take me to the back of your throat. I want to hear my name from that mouth when I make you come with mine. I want the challenge, the chase. I live for it. You’ll make me work for it, earn it. And I’ll worship you for it.”

Frankie blew out a breath and bent at the waist. “Well, that was at least honest.”

“I’m not offering forever. It’s not on the table. But what I can give you is time that we’ll both remember.”