“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.”
CHAPTER NINE
Frankie
If I could have evaporated into the high-thread-count sheets and become one with the mattress, I would have.
