Page 34 of The Worst Best Man
He grunted his approval when she gripped his hard cock through his pants. “I want your hands on me, your mouth,” he growled.
“Right back at you, Kilbourn,” Frankie murmured.
His knuckles brushed her again, and she melted under him.
“I’mgoing to fuck you, Franchesca. Not that surfer, not Davenport. Me.”
Her body thrilled at the words while her mind reeled at the possession in his tone.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
His fingers were poised at her entrance, her tongue buried in his mouth when Frankie found herself squinting into a blinding light.
Chapter Fourteen
Aiden contemplated killing the security guard with his own two hands. If the man continued to shine his flashlight in the direction of Franchesca’s nipples that were trying to cut their way out of her gown, Aiden was going to break his fucking neck.
Franchesca stood full of fury, hands on hips. He’d forgotten himself, forgotten where they were and why they were here. He’d heard the guard’s approach and had gone with the lovers out for a romantic stroll-slash-fuck story. Touching her? Tasting her? It had wiped out all instincts besides the need to take her.
He could tell by the way she refused to look at him that she thought he’d taken advantage of her. And he had, or at least he’d taken advantage of the situation.
Now, he was going to kill a security guard, and then Franchesca was going to kill him.
“Look, sir,” Franchesca said, her cheeks still flaming. “We just slipped away from the party and got carried away.
Aiden stepped in front of her. He couldn’t tell exactly where the guard’s gaze was falling, but he imagined it had to be somewhere around Frankie’s heaving chest.
“It’s my fault. I got carried away,” he said, offering the man a chagrined smiled. “I’m sure it’s not the worst you’ve seen tonight.”
The guard stared blankly for another moment. Aiden felt Frankie grab the back of his jacket with both hands.
“I just caught two girls skinny-dipping in the lobby fountain ten minutes ago,” the guard announced. “Go on back to the party, and keep your clothes on.”
“Will do,” Aiden promised. Frankie’s eyes were as wide as big screen TVs as they hurried past the guard onto a path that led to the crowded terrace that served as a dancefloor. “Well that was easy,” he said. He reached up and picked a leaf out of Frankie’s hair. He was starting to wonder if he was obsessed with her hair. The thick, dark curtain that fell in curling waves. He wanted to bury his face in it.
“Easy?” she hissed, slapping his hand away.
“Well, you didn’t have to flash anyone this time,” Aiden pointed out.
Her gasp was worth the anticipation.
“You saw me?”
“I saw quite a bit of you.” Aiden decided not to mention that he’d been a split second slow in covering Antonio’s eyes.
Frankie slapped him in the shoulder.
“What? You’re the one who decided to flash half the island.”
“Yeah, but that didn’t mean you had to look, too!”
“I wasn’t about to miss out on that view, Franchesca.” He reached for her, and she held up her hands.
“Keep your hands off of me, or I’ll break off that hard-on you’ve been sporting all night and slap you in the face with it.”
How could he not want more of her? How could she believe that he’d leave her alone?
“Are you trying to draw attention to us?” he asked, pulling her into him. Those blue-green eyes narrowed at him. “We’re on the dance floor. So dance.”
