Page 88 of The Worst Best Man
“Why?” he sounded disgruntled.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Aiden. It’s better if we keep our relationship… private.”
He lifted his head and looked at her frowning. “But I just met your family,” he pointed out.
“I know. But that’s different. I don’t think I should dabble in your world. Okay?”
It was all temporary, and she didn’t want either one of them to forget that. Meeting her family was one thing. It drove her mother batty. Mission accomplished. If she met Aiden’s family, it would be making a statement. And she wasn’t really a statement kind of woman.
“I wish you would. I liked meeting your family, and mine doesn’t hit as much.”
Frankie laughed again. “That just means Ma really liked you.”
“Even though I’m a trillionaire?”
“She wouldn’t have smacked you if she didn’t like you.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” Despite her better judgment, Frankie dropped a kiss to the top of his head. His hair was soft, silky to the touch.
“What do you use on your hair?” she asked.
“Mmm, stuff. Can we sleep now?”
“Yeah, we can sleep now.”
His arms came around her waist, and he was out like a light in seconds.
Frankie tried not to think about how good this felt. A Sunday nap on the couch with her sexy boyfriend. It wasn’t real, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t feel damn good.
She woke slowly in stages to a gentle stroking. She knew without waking that it was Aiden’s hands in her hair.
“Mmm,” she sighed.
“I can’t remember the last time I took a nap,” Aiden murmured.
Somehow, they’d shifted during the nap and Aiden was now spooning her and stroking his hand through her thick, wild hair.
“You are missing out,” she said, giving herself over to the luxury of a whole body stretch.
“I had no idea just how much,” he said, his lips moving against her ear. She wiggled back against him and felt the reward of his exceptional hard-on.
“Do you always wake up with wood?” she asked.
His hand slid down to capture her breast through her sweater.
“When I wake up next to you I do.”
He sounded sleepy but sober. And there was something irresistible about his lips moving over her hair, her neck.
“Are you sure you won’t reconsider coming to dinner this week?” he asked, his hand squeezing the tender flesh of her breast.
“Mmm. Meeting the family? Facing photographers? Sitting around while you wow the room? No thanks.”
He sighed behind her. Was that disappointment? Relief?
“But maybe there’s something I can do to make it up to you,” she said rolling to face him and reaching her hand between them to cup his erection.
