The Worst Best Man(45)

“Fondly or ‘I spit on your grave’ memories?” Frankie quipped.

Somehow, he was in front of her, moving like a ghost. He threaded his fingers through her hair, and she shivered at the contact. “I’m not going to stop until you give me what I want. You need to understand that. I’ll push your buttons, manipulate you. Whatever it takes. I won’t fall for you. But I’ll be good to you.”

“Oh, I’ve seen how the Kilbourns do business,” Frankie snapped back.

He was a breath away. She could smell him, feel the heat pumping off of him. His presence drowned out the steady roll of the surf behind her.

Aiden didn’t know, couldn’t know, that he was waving a red flag in front of an enraged bull. He wasn’t the only one who loved a challenge. She bet that if they tangled, she could get in a few shots of her own. Maybe even make him fall just a little.

“So, I agree to be your shiny new plaything, and you give me—”

“Anything and everything you want.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

“You.”

She wanted to laugh, to make a joke. This didn’t happen to Franchesca Baranski. She met nice guys in coffee shops and offices, and they went to plays and bars and had fun, energetic sex. This happened only in the dog-eared novels on her bookshelf. Billionaire sweeps regular girl off her feet.

God, she at least hoped the orgasm count of fiction would come true.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, his voice low and rough.

Frankie slapped a hand to his chest. “Uh-uh. You’re going to kiss me when I say you can kiss me. I’m not a ‘submit to the alpha’ kind of girl. I’m a ‘kick him in the balls and take what I want’ woman.”

“What do you want?”

“To break you.”

She caught him by surprise. That much was clear when her mouth met and took his. He stilled beneath her lips, her hands, for the span of a heartbeat. And then the beast was out of its cage. His hands on her felt so right. He pulled her into him, and she felt the heat, the hard of his body.

There was nothing soft or gentle about him. And she didn’t want him to be.

She wanted to jump off that jagged edge of pleasure they’d been dancing on. She wanted to throw herself to the wolves. The wolf. Aiden’s teeth raked her lower lip, and she whimpered. He used it to gain access to her mouth, his tongue sweeping inside, claiming new territory.

She shoved at his jacket, needing far fewer layers between them. Then it was her hands splayed over the thin material of his shirt. She felt the steady thrum of his heart under her hand. It gave her a little thrill to know that he was nearly as revved as she.

With one hand, he dove into her hair, closing his fist around her curls and pulling. The pain at her scalp should have been a warning to slow down, to back off. But it only heightened her craving. He growled into her mouth, and the sound went straight to her belly.

Frankie’s nipples were begging to be released, to be stroked and tasted and sucked. And her panties were so wet there was no way they could catch fire now.

“Don’t play with me, Franchesca,” Aiden said, leaving a millimeter between their mouths. “Don’t torture me.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Aiden.”

“Tell me I can have you. Tell me you’re mine.”





Chapter Twenty-Four


Aiden kicked open the door to his room so hard it bounced off the wall. But he pushed them through the doorway before it flew back to hit them. He shoved it closed behind them and felt blindly for the lock without breaking from Frankie’s mouth. Her mouth, God, that mouth.

Everything she did with those lush lips and wicked tongue drove him insane. They should have talked. The expectations should have been made clear before this.

Frankie slipped her hands between the buttons of his shirt, her fingers flexing on the fabric.

“You’re rich, right? You can afford a new shirt?”

“Oh, yeah,” he breathed.

It was all the incentive she needed. She yanked, sending buttons flying in all directions. One stroke of his chest, and she sent her busy fingers to his belt.

“Franchesca if you don’t get out of that dress now, I’m going to destroy it.”

“You bought it for me,” she reminded him.

“Right. I’ll get you another dress and me another shirt.”

He didn’t destroy the entire thing. Just ripped one of the straps and ruined the zipper trying to get his hands on her faster.

She worked just as quickly, just as impatiently. She had his belt off and his pants unhooked before he got the dress to her waist.

He’d thought of little else since he’d seen her in that strapless bra and gossamer thin panties before the ceremony. And now she was his for the touching, the taking.

One more shove and her dress pooled at her ankles. She was curvy like a goddess. So different from the waiflike size zeros he usually took to bed.

Her body made him salivate. She was made for sin, and he was happy to oblige.

He wanted to stop, to enjoy the view. Aiden wanted to stroke and kiss his way over every inch of her beautiful body. But his pants were sliding down his thighs, and she was wrestling his throbbing dick out of his briefs.

“Let’s see what we’re working with here,” she said, dropping to her knees.