The Worst Best Man(74)

Aiden dug his heels into the rug for traction, fearing that he’d become weightless and float away. He felt it build at the base of his spine and marveled at the witchcraft that brought him to orgasm so quickly.

Giving up all pretense, he gripped her head with both hands and let loose a guttural groan when she let him take over. Fucking her mouth with short, shallow thrusts, he lost himself in the moment. He meant to pull out. But then he was coming, jerking convulsively and pouring his release down her throat.

He went silent as the orgasm ripped through him, hollowing him out even as it filled her mouth.

Nothing. Nothing in this world could have prepared him for the sight of Franchesca at the receiving end of his cock, taking everything he gave without asking for anything in return. He shuddered and collapsed back into the chair, blood rushing in his ears.

She rose from her knees, a goddess no matter her position. She crossed the room and peered inside, finding his private bathroom. Aiden would have directed her to it, but he was a shell of a man right now. Leveled by beauty and desire.

She returned with a warm, damp washcloth and cleaned him thoroughly.

“I haven’t been a very good girlfriend. I’m hoping to improve my score,” she confessed, gently tucking him back into his underwear. “You’re a good man, Aiden. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re unbelievably patient. If I asked you for Cleveland, Ohio, you’d find a way to deliver it to me. You’re insanely generous and surprisingly sweet, and I’m sorry I haven’t been appreciative of it.”

“Gah.” It was the best he could provide verbally after having been completely decimated.

“So I’m going to do a better job, and I’m going to expect you to hold me to a higher standard.” She perched back up on his desk, and he swore he could smell her arousal. He would have fucked her. He would have given her anything she wanted just for visiting him. But she wanted to change the way things were.

Aiden managed a shaky breath and then another one, slowly feeling the life return to his body. “I have an addendum to our deal as well,” he told her.

She watched him warily.

“I’m not suggesting forever,” he began. “But I would like to table the ‘temporary’ aspect of our relationship.”

She stopped breathing, freezing in place like a rabbit in front of a predator.

Aiden reached out, shifting his chair so he was in front of her. “You’re special to me, Franchesca. And I don’t foresee a point when you won’t be.”

“Jesus,” she blew out her breath. “That must have been some BJ,” she said.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.”

“The blow job?” she asked cheekily.

He pinched her.

“Ouch! I’m just kidding,” she said.

“Forget the fact that you’re beautiful beyond belief. You’re sharp and mean when you need to be. You have no filter. I’ve never known anyone who didn’t carefully weigh every word. You’re a breath of fucking fresh air in my life.”

“Aide, you’ve got me shaking in my boots here,” she admitted.

“All in, Franchesca. You and me.”

She blew out a slow breath and stared at the ceiling. “What if we fuck it up?”

He squeezed her hips. “I won’t let you.”

She laughed. “Ass,” she said.

He saw the shimmer of tears behind her long lashes. “I’m asking you to take me or leave me,” he told her.

“You ever have this conversation with anyone else you dated?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not even close. You and me, Frankie.”

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” she admitted, clutching her hand to her belly.

He saw it then, the fear, the nerves. And he made the conscious choice to push the button. “I never would have thought I’d see the day when Franchesca Marie Baranski was too scared to go after what she wanted.”

It was a manipulation, but damn it, he needed this. He needed her.

She nodded, her lips pressed tight. “Okay. All in.”

He rose, lifting her off the desk in a tight embrace.

“You won’t regret it, Franchesca.”





Chapter Thirty-Nine


“Judging from the fingerprints on your neck, things went well with Aiden,” Pru said, eyeing Frankie as she flopped down in the salon chair next to her.

Frankie was too emotionally drained to argue. “You were right, and I was a horrible person,” she admitted, pouting in the mirror.

“When you know better, you do better,” Pru chirped from under her foils.

“We’re officially in a ‘real’ relationship, and I threw up my panini on my way out of the building.”

“You have a cast iron stomach,” Pru pointed out.

“Yeah, okay, so that part didn’t actually happen. But thanks to you, Aiden and I are,” she swallowed compulsively, “a couple.”

“I have the perfect way for you to thank me.”

“I just made it up to Aiden under his desk. What the hell do you want from me?”

Pru pointed at Frankie. “Oh, Christian! My friend here needs something done with her mop.”

A man dressed in head to toe black with a shaved head—irony of ironies—magically appeared behind her.