CHAPTER TEN
Max
The reception was in full swing by the time we made it to the ballroom. Crystal clinked against crystal, laughter echoed off the vaulted ceilings, and the wedding party was already three drinks deep into celebration mode.
I kept my hand firmly on the small of Frankie’s back as we navigated through the crowd. She was tense beside me, her eyes scanning the room like she was cataloging every potential threat.
Smart woman.
Across the ballroom, I caught sight of Leo. He was holding court with some of his trust-fund friends, a glass of champagne in one hand. When his gaze landed on me, he went completely still. The moment our eyes met, he turned and walked in the opposite direction.
Also, smart.
“Your cousin is avoiding you,” Frankie murmured.
“Good instincts on his part.” I steered her toward the bar. “What do you want to drink?”
“Something strong enough to make me forget I’m at a wedding where the groom has a split lip courtesy of my fake boyfriend.”
“Real boyfriend,” I corrected.
She looked up at me, startled. “What?”
Before I could answer, my mother appeared at my elbow with the uncanny timing she’d perfected over the years.
“Maxwell.” She smiled at both of us, warm and genuine. “Frankie. I’m so glad you both stayed for the reception.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said dryly.
My mother’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Yes, I noticed you made quite an impression at the ceremony. Everyone’s talking about Leo’s... unfortunate injury.”
“He had it coming.”
“I don’t disagree.” She patted my arm, then turned her full attention to Frankie. “Dear, I wanted to thank you.”
Frankie blinked. “For what?”
“For making my son smile again.” My mother’s voice was soft, sincere. “I haven’t seen him this happy in years. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”
“Mom—” I started.
“Hush. I’m talking to Frankie.” She took Frankie’s hand in both of hers.
“You’re good for him. I can see it. And more importantly, he can see it.
” She squeezed once, then released her. “Now, I need to go save your aunt from another one of Leo’s boring friends.
And Frankie? You’re welcome at the house anytime. With or without this grumpy bear.”
She swept away before either of us could respond, leaving Frankie staring after her with wide eyes.
“Your mother is—”
“Terrifying? Meddling? Too perceptive for her own good?”
“I was going to say lovely.” Frankie turned to me. “She really likes me.”
“She’s not the only one.” I pulled her closer, my hand sliding from her back to her hip. “Dance with me.”
“Max, about what you said before—”
“Dance with me first. Then we’ll talk.”
She bit her lip, nervous and beautiful, and let me lead her onto the dance floor.
The band was playing something slow and heavy, the kind of song that was made for bodies pressed close together.
I wrapped my arms around her waist, my hands sinking into the lush, heavy weight of her hips as I hauled her against me.
I wanted everyone to see. I wanted the whole damn room to know exactly who she belonged to.
We didn’t move much. We just swayed, a slow, grinding rhythm. I was already hard, my cock pressing into her belly. Every time we moved, I felt her breath hitch, felt the way she melted into me.
I buried my face in her neck, breathing her in. Vanilla and pure Frankie.
“Max,” she whispered. “People are watching.”
“I don’t care about people.” I pulled back just enough to look at her. “I need to tell you something.”
“Now?” Her eyes were wide, nervous.
“Right now.” I kept my voice low, meant only for her. “This whole weekend. This wedding. Coming here with you.”
“I know. You needed someone to—”
“No.” I cut her off. “That’s not why I agreed to bring you, Frankie.”
She blinked up at me, confused. “What?”
“When you kissed me in the hardware store, when you told Tiffany we were together—I could have said no. I could have let you off the hook right there. Told everyone the truth.”
“But your family—”
“I don’t give a damn about my family’s opinion. I haven’t cared what Tiffany thought in years.” My hands tightened on her hips. “I said yes because it gave me an excuse to have you in my bed. To touch you. To hold you. To make you mine.”
Her breath caught. “Max—”
“I’ve wanted you since the first day you I heard that smart mouth. Every Thursday morning for six months, I’ve walked into that hardware store just to see you. I don’t need lag bolts every damn week, Frankie. I need you.”
“You’re saying this isn’t fake?” Her voice was shaky, hopeful.
“There’s nothing fake about the way I feel about you.” I leaned down, my forehead resting against hers. “This weekend wasn’t about Tiffany. It wasn’t about proving anything to my family. It was about finally having you where I’ve wanted you all along. Next to me. In my arms. In my bed.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “You manipulative mountain man.”
“Guilty.” I couldn’t help the smile. “Are you mad?”
I saw her working through it—the realization settling in. She pulled back just enough to look at me properly. “You manipulated me,” she said slowly, testing the words. “You let me spiral about being out of my league and not good enough while you knew the whole time you wanted this. Wanted me.”
“Yes.” I didn’t look away. Didn’t make excuses.
“You mountain men are all the same,” she muttered, but there was no real heat behind it. Her fingers traced the line of my jaw. “Six months of Thursday mornings. Six months of me thinking you were just being polite when you came in for lag bolts you didn’t need.”
“I was never polite, Frankie. I was patient.”
“Patient,” she repeated, and I watched her mouth curve despite herself. “That’s what you’re calling it?”
“Would you have believed me if I’d asked you out the first day?” I challenged. “If I’d walked in and said I wanted to take you home?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Her cheeks flushed.
“Exactly.” I pulled her closer. “You would have thought I was teasing. Or playing some kind of rich-guy game. You wouldn’t have trusted it was real.”
“So you tricked me into a fake relationship to prove it was real?” But she was fighting a smile now, her brain catching up to what her heart already knew.
“I didn’t trick you, Frankie. In fact, I believe you kissed me first.” I swung her around, making her gasp.
“What? That was supposed to be a quick peck on the cheek. You’re the one who turned his head.”
“Damn right, I did. I used it to my advantage.”
She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. Then she shook her head slowly, a laugh escaping despite herself. “I can’t believe I’m not mad about this.”
“Are you sure you’re not?” I asked carefully.
“Oh, I should be furious.” Her hands slid back around my neck, her body pressing against mine. “But all I can think about is that you’ve wanted me this whole time. That this—” she gestured between us “—wasn’t charity or convenience or rebound. You actually want me.”
“I more than want you, Frankie.” I pulled her impossibly closer, until there wasn’t a breath of space between us. “The question is—are you with me?”
She looked up at me, and I saw everything I needed to see there. Want. Need. And something deeper that made my chest tight.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m with you.”
I kissed her then, right there in the middle of the dance floor with two hundred people watching. I kissed her like I’d been starving for her, because I had been. For six months. For every smile she’d given me across that hardware counter.
When I finally pulled back, I almost stopped breathing she was so damn beautiful. Her hair was now a wild mess, her lips wet and swollen, and her eyes were full of the same need that was clawing at my insides.
“For God’s sake, Max, get a room!” someone hollered from the sidelines, probably a drunk uncle or one of Leo’s embarrassed friends.
“Do you want me, Frankie?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
She didn’t hesitate. She reached up, her hand cupping my jaw, her thumb grazing my lower lip. “I’ve wanted you for months, Max. I just didn’t think you wanted me back.”
I didn’t need to hear another word.
I reached down, my hands hooking behind her knees and her back, and I swept her up into my arms, carrying her like a bride.
“Max!” she squeaked. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to bed.” I started walking, my stride long and purposeful. “I’m done waiting. I’m done pretending. I’m done dancing around what I want.”
“We’re leaving? Now?”
“Not exactly.” I didn’t look at the crowd. I didn’t look at Tiffany, who was probably staring at us with her perfectly composed face finally cracking. I didn’t look at Leo, who was giving us a wide berth from across the room.
I walked straight across the dance floor, and someone pulled open the heavy oak doors. The noise of the wedding faded into nothing as I headed for the elevators.
I didn’t put her down. Not when we stepped into the mirrored car. Not when I bent my head and devoured her mouth while the elevator rose to the top floor.
“This is insane,” she whispered against my lips.
“Probably.”
“Everyone’s going to talk.”
“Let them.” The elevator dinged. I carried her down the hallway, still kissing her. I opened the door and carried her inside, slamming it shut behind us with my foot. The lock clicked into place.
Only then did I set her down. I looked down at her, this woman who’d turned my carefully controlled world upside down with one impulsive kiss.
“Last chance to change your mind, Frankie.”
She reached up, her fingers tangling in my hair, and pulled my mouth down to hers. “Shut up and take me to bed, Max.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.