Page 137 of The Worst Best Man
“My mother is reminding me that there are security cameras out here.”
“Seriously?” she swore darkly. “She already probably hates me for causing a scene, and now I’m dry humping her son on the front porch!”
“There was nothing dry about that, Franchesca,” Aiden grinned wickedly.
“Evil.” She made a cross with her fingers. “Stay away from me with your magic penis and pheromones.”
He laughed and opened the front door.
Chapter Fifty-Two
His mother had limited the press to a few society reporters and bloggers. The media was confined to the entry hall, a two-story room in soft ivories and beiges with fussy accent chairs and tables.
It was a very civilized press gauntlet on home turf. Aiden kept Frankie glued to his side. His mother had made it very clear to the press that no one would be discussing Lionel Goffman. They suffered through the same questions over and over again. How did you meet? How long have you been seeing each other? And with each round, he could feel Frankie getting antsier.
“My subscribers wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t bring up Dress Gate,” the blogger had thick glasses and pink streaks in her hair and directed the question at Frankie.
“What’s Dress Gate?” Frankie asked.
“The ongoing conversation about you repeating the red Armani dress you wore to dinner at The Oak Leaf and then again to lunch this week.”
“Are you pulling my leg?” Frankie asked, bewildered.
The blogger flashed her a friendly smile and waited.
Frankie looked up at Aiden. She was practically vibrating next to him.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head. “Oh, I’ve got this one. Don’t you all have more important things to do with your time? It’s a beautiful dress. I like it. I’m going to wear it more than once, not throw it away. Deal with it. Why don’t you ask me about the small business initiative the city is trying to pass or how survival rates with children fighting leukemia are five percent higher at this facility than any other in the country? Or, at thevery least, ask Aiden here who he’s wearing.”
It occurred to Aiden that Frankie might be dangerously close to breaking another nose.
He slid his arm around her waist. “I have very fond memories of the first time she wore it. I hope I get to see it many more times in the future. And speaking of the future, I hope your questions for my girlfriend reflect both her intelligence, her sense of social responsibility, and her involvement in the business community.”
He dragged Frankie away before she could add anything further.
“What the fuck? Dress Gate? Are they serious?” she hissed.
“Aiden! Franchesca!” Cecily Kilbourn, dressed in head to toe silver, glittered her way toward them.
“Mom,” Aiden said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
“I’m glad you two were able to make it inside,” Cecily teased.
Frankie turned scarlet, and Aiden pulled her into his side and dropped a kiss on top of her head. “Sorry about the R-rating,” he said, not feeling remotely sincere in his apology.
“I’m happy to see you happy,” Cecily said, winking at them both. “Now, let me introduce you two to some people.”
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It was the last time he had his hands on Frankie. She was dragged away for introductions and wine while Aiden made his own rounds. His mother had opened up the library, dining room, and grand hall for the event. He tried to stay in the same room as Frankie, but when Pruitt and Chip arrived, he felt like he was constantly chasing her from room to room.
He found her easily in the crowd when he got up to make his speech. He spoke of family and community and the responsibility they felt for providing for a better future. But he thought of Franchesca, naked and bucking under him.
She smiled up at him from her chair. Those red lips curving sinfully.
It was an obsession, her mouth. Listening to the words she would scream or pant or plead while he was inside her. Watching her wrap her lips around his cock as she took him to her throat. That dirty, smart, funny mouth.
He’d given up trying to anticipate exactly what she’d say. She was quicker with a jibe, wittier with a reply than anyone he knew. His Franchesca had the brains that made her even more appealing than her goddess-worthy curves did.
