The Worst Best Man(50)

“Why didn’t you wake me or say goodbye?”

He saw the shadow of guilt in those big eyes. “It was a one-time thing, Aiden. That’s all.”

“Bullshit.” His voice rang out sharply. He was tired, angry. And despite that, he wanted to touch her. Punish her. Please her.

“Oh, come on, Kilbourn. We had a good time. Now it’s back to the real world.”

“We are not done, Franchesca.”

“I think once was more than enough,” she snapped back, eyes flashing.

“Twice,” he corrected. “And do you really?”

“Go the hell home, Aiden.”

He closed the distance between them and forced himself to take a gentle hold on her shoulders. She was melting into him even as she swore. Aiden felt relief, swift and sharp, knowing that she still felt that need. Even if it was only pure biology, body-recognizing body. It was enough, and somehow more.

“Last night?” he began. “That doesn’t just happen. And running away from it is cowardly.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m afraid of you?” Frankie’s voice was low.

“I’m suggesting that what we shared was a first for me. That… connection. I don’t want to just walk away. And I don’t think you do either.” If she wanted honest and real, then that is what he’d give her. Aiden only hoped the price wouldn’t be too high.

“I don’t want to be some guy’s plaything. I deserve more than that,” Frankie shot back.

“You do,” he agreed. “You’re the one who labeled it as such. Just because I’m not interested in marriage doesn’t mean I’d be disrespectful or callous toward you.”

She chewed on her lower lip, staring intently at the top button of his shirt. “So how exactly would this kind of arrangement work?”

He scented victory, knew it was within his grasp. “We spend time together. I give you anything you want.”

“Temporarily,” she added.

“It’s not like there’s an expiration date, Franchesca.”

“But you always lose interest.”

“I might point out that you happen to be single, too. Is that because you’ve always lost interest?” He let his fingers roam up to the back of her neck, toying with the curls there.

She sighed and finally, finally raised her gaze to his.

“Look, I’m not looking for forever either. I don’t know where I want to be in five years. I’d rather figure that out before I have to take someone else’s wants and needs into consideration. And God help the woman who wants it with you.”

He ran his hands around her tight shoulders. He turned her slowly in his arms, kneading her tense muscles. She sagged back against him.

“Then why aren’t you saying yes?” he whispered darkly in her ear. “Are you making me work for it?” He didn’t know why that made him hard. A Kilbourn never willingly relinquished control.

“Whoa! Am I interrupting?”

The man lounging in Frankie’s doorway looked more interested than angry to find her wrapped up in another man’s arms. He was broad shouldered and muscled. He wore a tight Henley that showed off that fact and ignored the thirty-degree weather outside. He was holding a bag of food that smelled better than any five-star meal in Manhattan.

“Gio,” Frankie greeted the man as she tried to shrug out of Aiden’s grasp. He didn’t care for that. “Are you early?” she asked, shooting a panicked look in Aiden’s direction. He really didn’t like that.

“Huh?” Gio asked, fishing a phone out of the pocket of his track pants.

He held up the phone and snapped a picture.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Frankie wasn’t nervous anymore. She was a snarling lioness.

“Oops. Too late,” he shrugged. “You wanna introduce me to your friend?”

Aiden went from trying to keep Frankie in his grasp to holding her back as she took a swipe at the smugly grinning man.

“You are such an asshole!”

Gio’s phone dinged, and he grinned, glancing at the screen. “Ma’s looking forward to meeting your friend Sunday.”

Aiden had to grab Frankie around the waist when she lunged for him. He picked her up and spun her around while Gio laughed.

“I’m Gio,” the man said, extending a hand well out of Frankie’s reach. “This hellion’s brother.”

Aiden shook with his free hand.

“Aiden,” he said.

“So, you two dating?” Gio asked.

“Yes,” Aiden said.

“No,” Frankie countered.

“Well, either way, you just got me out of awkward fix up attempt number sixteen. Mary Lou Dumbrowski.”

“Mary Lou’s single again?” Frankie said, ceasing her attempts to kill her brother.

Gio crossed to the tiny table and dumped the bag of food on it. “Yeah. Husband number three keeled over last month at the dry cleaners. Bam. Dead before he hit the floor.”

“Ma must be getting desperate if she’s moving on to fresh widows for you,” Frankie pointed out.

Aiden squeezed her hand and then released her. She didn’t seem murderous anymore.

“Ma don’t like having a 36-year-old bachelor son,” Gio explained. “She also doesn’t like being the only one of her sisters without grandbabies.”