CHAPTER EIGHT
Max
I sat on the edge of the bed, my elbows on my knees, waiting for Frankie to get dressed.
I’d showered first, giving her plenty of time to do whatever women do.
She’d made me close my eyes as she’d come out of the bathroom to put on her dress.
Now, she was standing in front of the full-length mirror, her face flushed as she fumbled with the zipper.
The fabric was a deep shade of midnight blue that made her skin look like cream, and every time she moved, it caught on the lush curve of her hips.
“I can’t — it’s stuck,” she muttered. “Maybe I should just wear the yellow one again. Wearing this one is a mistake.”
I stepped behind her, my hands heavy and warm on her shoulders. I felt her shiver, a violent little tremor that said so much. I reached down, my knuckles brushing her back as I eased the zipper up.
“It’s not a mistake. It’s a statement. And you’re wearing it perfectly.”
I turned her around. She looked small against me, soft and dangerous, and the way she was looking up at me — wide-eyed and breathless — made me want to cancel the dinner and lock the door.
“They’re going to stare, Max,” she whispered.
“Oh, yeah. They will. The women will wish they had your curves and the men will wish they had you. I’ll be lucky if I don’t have to deck one or two.”
That made her smile. “As if.”
I tilted her face up to mine with a finger beneath her chin. “I’m serious, Frankie. You look gorgeous. Like a pocket-sized Venus.” To prove it, I leaned down, giving her one long, hard kiss. “Now put your shoes on and let’s get this over with.”
The cocktail hour was a sea of clinking glass and forced laughter.
The air was thick with expensive perfume and the kind of family tension that usually ended with someone getting disowned.
I kept my hand on the small of Frankie’s back, my thumb tracing the silk over her skin, keeping her anchored to me as we navigated the room.
I could already tell the Lone Mountain punch was flowing as fast as the expensive champagne Leo had imported. The punch was a local recipe — fruit, spice, and enough high-proof grain alcohol to fuel a tractor. Frankie grabbed one as a waiter passed by. Before I could warn her, my mother approached.
“Frankie, you look beautiful.” She’d already told me how much she liked Frankie and warned me not to be a fool.
“Thank you,” Frankie replied, a little shyly, a little self-consciously. She smoothed one hand down her side. It was the same nervous habit I’d seen her make in the hardware store. I wrapped my arm around her, my hand settling low on the side of her hip.
My mother placed a hand on my arm. “I’m glad you came, son. I know it must have been—”
“I’m glad I came too, Mother,” I cut her off, knowing what she was about to say. That being here was difficult for me. But it wasn’t.
I’d been in Frankie’s company for almost a day and a half now.
I’d seen her handle herself in the pit of vipers I’d warned her about.
Show kindness to my mother and the few aunts and cousins I could tolerate being around.
All while keeping her sass and snark in the forefront. All while being Frankie.
As we stood there, more and more members of my family came up to us, wanting to be introduced to Frankie. By the time the third round of people had come and gone, she’d downed more of the punch than she should have.
I took her empty glass and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter. “How many of those have you had?”
She shrugged. “Three. Maybe four. It is really good. It tastes like sunshine.”
I frowned down at her. “You do know it has alcohol?”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer as Tiffany and Leo approached.
Leo slammed his hand against my back as if I hadn’t just punched him.
His lip had turned slightly purple and I wondered how he’d explained that to Tiffany and his mother.
Thinking about what he’d said to Frankie, I wished I’d hit him harder.
“What are you two love birds doing hiding out in the corner? Come join the fun.”
I heard a sharp note of jealousy in his voice and smiled.
“We’re fine,” I answered even as I saw Frankie flag down another waiter for another glass of punch.
“Frankie,” Tiffany purred. “I was just saying how... brave that dress is. It really leaves very little to the imagination.”
“Oh, this old thing? It’s Max’s favorite. He’s a fan of things that are easy to get into. Or out of.”
I nearly choked on my drink. Tiffany’s face turned a brilliant shade of red. I looked down at Frankie, who was looking back at me with a wide-eyed innocence that I knew as absolute bullshit.
I let out a low chuckle, pulling Frankie hard against me. “She’s right. I am.”
Frankie blinked at Tiffany, her head tilting to the side. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her punch, then smiled — the kind of smile that usually preceded a bar fight.
“Tiffany, honey,” Frankie said, her voice dripping with sweet, drunken sincerity. “I love how you’ve managed to make all that work you’ve had done look almost natural. It’s a real testament to your surgeon’s skill. Or does your family own stock in botox?”
Tiffany’s jaw didn’t just drop — it practically hit the floor. I didn’t wait for a rebuttal. I wrapped my arm around Frankie’s waist, hauling her flush against my side before she could drop another bomb.
“We’re going to… go get some air,” I said barely managing not to laugh.
“I’m just being helpful, Max,” she chirped. “You like it when I’m helpful. That’s why we’re here, right? To help with your… problem.”
Only Frankie and I knew the problem she was referring to. Coming her dateless. To everyone else, it sounded like something much more intimate. “Yes, Frankie, you’re helping me with my problem.”
She followed me a few steps before she stopped, her legs wobbling as she tried to keep her balance. “Can’t we stay for dessert? I saw chocolate. Shaped like little mountains, Max. Little mountains we can eat.”
“I’ll get you all the chocolate you want, Frankie.” My voice was thick with the effort of not laughing — and the much harder effort of ignoring the way her backside was grinding against me as I forced her to start walking again.
I didn’t care about the indignant sputtering from Leo or the horrified silence from my aunts. I steered Frankie out of the ballroom, my hand firm on her hip.
By the time we made it to the elevators, she was giggling. The second the doors shut, she turned in my arms, her hands grabbing my lapels.
“Did I say that out loud?” she whispered, her face inches from mine.
“Every word.”
“Good. She’s a snake, Max. A shiny, silver snake.” Her eyes were half-lidded as she watched me.
“And you? Why are you so grumpy?” She poked at my chest before placing her hand over my heart. “Big, grumpy mountain man. In a big, grumpy suit. I miss your flannel. Why do you look like you want to eat me, Max?”
I groaned at the images that stirred up. Her on my bed, legs spread wide as I ate out her pussy. “You have no idea, baby. But you’re tipsy, Frankie. And I’m trying very hard to be a gentleman.”
“I don’t want a gentleman,” she whispered, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling my head down. “I want the guy who threw a punch to defend my honor. I want the guy who was poking me in the back this morning.”
And before I could stop her, she was kissing me.
A messy, desperate, punch flavored kiss that sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated fire straight to my cock.
I let out a guttural sound and took over, my tongue diving deep, claiming her mouth while my hands roamed over her silk covered hips.
I hauled her up, wrapping one leg around my waist, the dress punching up until I could feel the softness of her inner thigh against the palm of my hand.
“Frankie. Stop. You’re drunk,” I groaned out even as I continued to kiss her.
“I’m not drunk,” she panted. “I’m just… honest. And I honestly want you to take me to bed right now.”
Her hand slid down to the fly of my trousers, cupping me. I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling, wanting more. My cock was hard and I wanted nothing more for her small hand to wrap around it.
When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, I picked her up and carried her down the hall, my stride long and focused. I was rock hard, my pulse thudding in my ears like a war drum. I knew I couldn’t do this. Take her to bed like this, but when she bit my earlobe…
I swiped the card, kicked the door open and carried her to bed.
She lay there, smiling up at me, her dark hair fanning over the white pillows, her dress hiked up to mid-thigh. She looked up at me, a wicked, sleepy grin on her face.
I started stripping out of my jacket, my eyes locked on hers. I was done with the family. I was done with the games. I wanted this woman until there was nothing left of either of us. I reached for my belt, my movements slow and deliberate.
“Hurry, Max.” She licked her lips and I could feel the pre-cum starting to leak from the tip of my cock. I wanted her mouth on me, licking it away.
“Wait for it,” I growled.
“I’m waiting,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering. “I’m... waiting... so... hard...”
I looked down to undo the cuffs of my shirt. When I looked back at the bed…
Frankie was out.
Her mouth was slightly open, her chest rising and falling in the deep, heavy rhythm. One black-heeled shoe was dangling off her foot while the other was somewhere near the headboard.
I stood there, half-naked and fully aroused, staring at the woman who had just insulted the bride, propositioned me, and fallen asleep in the span of five minutes.
“Dammit, Frankie,” I muttered, a reluctant, bone-deep laugh breaking through the frustration.
I eased her shoes off first, then carefully worked her out of the blue dress.
She mumbled something incoherent, her hand batting weakly at mine, but didn’t wake.
I grabbed one of my t-shirts from my bag and pulled it over her head, threading her arms through like she was a sleepy child.
The shirt swallowed her, falling to mid-thigh, and something in my chest tightened at the sight of her wearing my clothes.
I pulled the silk duvet over her shoulders.
I wanted to wake her up. I wanted to find out if she was as responsive as I imagined.
But I couldn’t. Not like this.
I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep, knowing that when she woke up tomorrow, the no-filter brain of hers was going to ask a lot of questions.
I stripped down to my boxers and climbed into the bed beside her. Before I thought better of it, I pulled her back against my chest. She let out a contented little sigh and snuggled into me, her backside fitting perfectly against my still swollen cock.
I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, my jaw tight. I was a man who usually got what he wanted, when he wanted it. But as I held the woman who had turned my life upside down, I knew the payoff of being patient was going to be that much more explosive.
“Tomorrow, Frankie,” I promised. “Tomorrow, you don’t get to fall asleep.”