Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

“Perfect! Don’t move!” The photographer flew around them snapping away. Flashes blinding them both. “Stop looking at me. Look at each other.”

  Frankie didn’t obey the command swiftly enough and Aiden nudged her chin up to meet his gaze.

  “Oh, hell yes. Inferno over here,” the photographer shouted. “Give me more.”

  “I want you,” Aiden announced quietly.

  Frankie tried to withdraw, but he wouldn’t let her. He held her in place with those two big, capable hands.

  “You wanted honesty. You don’t want games. I’m giving you that. I want you in my bed, Franchesca. I want to see you when we go home.”

  “God! The smolder on you two,” the photographer crowed.

  “I want you, and we both know that’s not one sided,” he pressed.

  She shivered, thinking about those probing fingers under the table at dinner the night before.

  “Giving in to every craving your body has is a stupid idea,” she shot back.

  “Craving. What a perfect word for it.” He brought his hand up and smoothed her hair away from her face.

  “Oh, yeah. I’m having orgasms over here,” the photographer shouted. “Way better than Sunburned Fake Tits and Mr. Roboto.”

  “I just told you I don’t sleep with guys who treat people like shit.”

  “Then I’ve changed my ways.”

  She gave him her best “shut the fuck up” look.

  “I’ll be whatever it is you want me to be.”

  “Aiden! How is that not playing games?”

  “I’m trying to be honest with you.”

  “Then try this on for size,” she suggested. “‘Frankie, I like you. A lot. And I want to fuck you, and I promise to make it worth your while.’”

  “I want to do more than fuck you,” he admitted.

  Frankie shook her head. “I know what you do. You play with women like toys until something newer and shinier comes along.”

  “I don’t do long-term relationships,” Aiden agreed. “But I won’t play with you. I’ll be good to you.”

  “While it lasts,” she shot back. “I’m not interested in being someone’s toy. And what makes you think I’d want a relationship with you anyway?”

  “Then spend tonight with me.”

  “Just tonight?”

  “Let me have you tonight. All night. Then decide.”

  “Jesus, Kilbourn. You want me to fuck you and then decide if I want to be your plaything?”

  He looked pained. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

  “Newsflash. You don’t buy me, asshole. You earn me.”

  The camera shutter clicked incessantly. “Why don’t you grab her leg and hook it over your hip,” the photographer suggested to Aiden.

  “I think we’re done here,” Frankie said, pushing out of Aiden’s arms. She needed tequila to cool the slow burn in her blood. Every damn time he put his hands on her, she couldn’t think of anything else but how good it felt.

  She couldn’t trust him. Wouldn’t trust him. She had standards. She wasn’t some walking horn dog like Margeaux. And she wasn’t an idiot like Taffany. She knew exactly what she’d be getting into, and it wasn’t just Aiden’s bed.

  * * *

  The party moved to the expansive stone terrace for dinner and more drinks. Frankie noted that Pru looked a little shell-shocked over Chip’s description of recent events. But she was a Stockton-Randolph now. Appearances had to be kept.

  Still, Frankie watched her closely for signs of migraines or minor freak-outs. And while she watched Pru, Aiden watched her.

  She avoided him. But it wasn’t easy. There was the group photography. The bridal party dance. And she couldn’t completely ignore him now that he was giving a toast.

  He rose from the chair on Chip’s right, the microphone in his hand. The long bridal party table was swagged in ivory cloth and tens of thousands of dollars of cream-colored flowers. Strands of silver and gold crystals dripped from the table top down to the floor. Frankie half expected Gatsby himself to stroll out with a goblet of champagne.

  And Aiden Kilbourn in a bespoke tux looked as if he belonged here.

  He didn’t need to quiet the crowd. When Aiden spoke, everyone listened.

  Frankie tried not to look at him, but it was like telling an elementary school student not to look directly into the sun during an eclipse. It made her want to look more.

  “Chip and I met on the polo field several years ago when my rather aggressive pony tried to take a bite out of his shoulder,” Aiden began warmly. “He was quite nice about it as Chip is about everything. I, on the other hand, am more like my pony.”

  The crowd chuckled, and Frankie rolled her eyes.

  “Despite that, we became friends. I thought my influence would harden him. Make him more aggressive to better suit me. However, it didn’t work out quite that way. Despite my best efforts, Chip remained kind-hearted, friendly. And I found myself softening a bit. Chip reminded me that there is more to life than conquering the world. There’s living and loving to be done. And he and Pruitt are a shining example of exactly that.”

  Chip grinned up at Aiden.

  Stupid eloquent bastard. He wasn’t even reading from notes.

  “Now, I’m not saying you and Pruitt have changed my mind about marriage. But you do make love look appealing. I’ve never had someone in my corner the way Pruitt is in yours. Well, except for you, Chip, and you’re already taken.”

  The crowd laughed eagerly.

  “I’m honored to be in both your corners today. And for the first time in my life, I worry that I might be missing out.”

  Every woman on the terrace swooned. It was an audible sigh, like a flock of birds taking flight at once.

  “To Chip and Pruitt. I wish you all the happiness that comes with living and loving,” Aiden said, raising his glass of champagne.

  “To Chip and Pruitt,” the guests echoed.

  That sexy rat bastard. No one would have guessed that just a few hours ago the man had allowed his so-called best friend to be used as bait. Aiden came to her, the microphone in hand. He leaned down and in, his lips brushing her ear.

  “Quit glaring at me, sweetheart. You’ll spoil the pictures.”

  He handed over the mic, winked, and returned to his seat.

  Frankie cursed him. Her pulse rate was running at jack hammer speeds. One brush of his lips against her ear lobe, and she was ready to take his pants off under the table and grip his cock with both hands.

  How was she supposed to give a speech when her nether-region was throbbing like a volcano about to erupt? The man was leaking pheromones, nature’s roofies.

  Grateful for the cover of the table and the long gown, Frankie rose and stood with her legs crossed tight. She cleared her throat and focused on Pru’s pretty face.

  “I have two loud, obnoxious brothers at home. My whole childhood was spent wishing for a sister. Someone to even the odds. Someone who didn’t leave the toilet seat up.”

  The crowd chuckled. See? She could be funny, too.

  “I didn’t get my wish until I moved into my dorm freshman year. I walk into my new room, carting all of the freshman necessities like cheese curls and a straightening iron with my brothers bickering about who was carrying more stuff. And there she was,” Frankie smiled down at Pru who was already crying.

  “My sister. She told my brothers to quit whining and to go order us a pizza. A good one, not one crapped up with onions and anchovies, if I recall. We were there for each other through mid-terms and finals, and boys and late nights, and hangovers, and more boys. Pru taught me to ski. I taught her to flip the bird to cabs in the crosswalk.”

  Pru laughed and wiped her eyes.

  “But for me, the absolute best thing about our relationship,” she paused to shoot a look at Aiden, “is being here today and seeing you two so happy. When you love someone, when you really care about them, nothing is more important to you than seeing them happy. And seeing you and Chip here today, I
couldn’t be happier or more proud. You found your way back to each other, earned it. And together you’ll face the future as a team. I love you two. Salute.”

  “Salute,” the crowd echoed and the air rang with the clinking of the finest crystal Barbados had to offer.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  He caught her on the dance floor. Frankie was sharing a dance and laughing with Chip when Aiden appeared with Pru in his arms.

  “Care to trade partners?” Aiden offered.

  “Get your hands off my wife, Kilbourn,” Chip teased, reaching for Pru and reeling her in.

  “There ye be, my pirate husband!”

  Frankie started to step away, but Aiden held out his hand to her, daring her to take it. Fine. She could deal with a dance. One dance. It didn’t mean she’d end up naked with him doing magical things to her body.

  “Sorry about ruining our pictures,” Chip told Pru.

  She shook her head at him. “Everything was absolutely perfect. Think of the story we’ll have to tell our grandkids someday,” Pru told him. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

  “I have Frankie and Aiden to thank for that.”

  “Ahem!” Frankie cleared her throat, staring pointedly at Aiden.

  “Almost entirely Franchesca,” he admitted. “In fact, I’m afraid I’m due the blame, not the thanks. It’s my fault Elliot took Chip.”

  Pru stopped mid-dance and prodded Aiden in his impeccable lapel. “Make him pay.”

  “You can count on it,” Aiden promised.

  Pru nodded and melted back into Chip’s arms.

  “Wait, wait, wait. That’s it?” Frankie demanded, squirming against Aiden’s hold. “He gets your groom kidnapped, lets him almost miss the wedding, and you’re totally fine with it?”

  Pru stared up into Chip’s one good eye. “Aiden will take care of whatever needs taking care of.”

  “Where is the girl who made me grovel for three days after I ate the last cannoli junior year?”

  “Those cannoli were freaking amazing! Heaven in my mouth,” Pru argued.

  “I know! My father made them!”

  “Yeah, well, you said I could have as many as I wanted, and I was on my period. And I wanted that last one.”

  “Three days. Over cannoli. You get her husband kidnapped and ‘oh, it’s fine.’ Life is not fair,” Frankie announced to Aiden.

  “Shut up and dance with the handsome man while I make out with my pirate husband,” Pru said, shooing them away.

  “You should listen to your best friend,” Aiden said, his voice was a rumble low in his chest.

  She tilted her head back to look at him and regretted her decision. Why? WHY did he have to be so beautiful? His cheekbones were sculpted like a team of angels had weighed in on the exact right proportions. His beard was neatly trimmed moving him from clean cut to rakish. And all that dark curling hair? She wanted to shove her hands into it and grip while she shoved his face between…

  Fuuuuuck.

  She was no better than stupid Margeaux. Why did she want him? God, was she so desperate she’d fuck a guy just because he was hot?

  As if reading her mind, Aiden drew her to the side of the dance floor and pulled her a little tighter against him.

  “I’m not a bad guy, Franchesca. I’ve made mistakes, but I’m not some heartless villain.”

  “Would you have felt the least bit bad if your brother had ruined their wedding?”

  “Of course I would have. And he will pay for what he did with more than just a broken nose.”

  “Is it really broken?” Frankie asked hopefully. She’d thrown more than her fair share of punches, growing up with two brothers that lived to torment her. And when she sprouted boobs, those same brothers wanted to make sure she could fight off any guy not good enough for her.

  “Definitely,” he said. His hand cruised over her back until it met bare skin.

  She ignited. She never wanted something that she wasn’t sure she’d survive before. She didn’t like it.

  “I need some air,” she breathed, pushing out of his grip. What she needed was more tequila. A bottle of it. And a flight home. She couldn’t afford to play with the rich and famous anymore. She wouldn’t get out unscathed.

  He let her go, but she felt the weight of that hot stare on her until she jogged down the steps and disappeared onto the sand. The moon glimmered over the water, another perfect slice of paradise.

  “What the fuck is wrong with me?” she murmured, stalking toward the ocean. Was there a friggin’ cupid mosquito down here that she wasn’t aware of? She’d had sex before. Plenty of it. She liked it. But one look from Aiden and her underwear melted off of her body. “Stay mad,” she coached herself, pacing down the beach. It was safer. Maybe Pru was feeling forgiving, but that didn’t mean she had to.

  Someone had to keep their wits about them.

  She felt him before she saw him emerging from the shadows. Frankie’s breath caught in her throat as Aiden walked toward her.

  “I’ve never chased anyone, Franchesca.” The moonlight played over his perfect face, shadowing the hollows beneath his cheekbones. He had his hands in his pockets, deceptively relaxed. But there was no doubt that he was a hunter and she was the prey. Another challenge.

  “Why do you want me, Aiden? And don’t give me some bullshit about me being beautiful and special. I already know I am, just like I know that I’m not your type. So ask yourself why it’s me you’re chasing and not some high society princess who’d beg to be ass up in your bed.”

  “That is exactly why it’s you and not Margeaux or Cressida or whatever the fuck the other one’s name is. I want that smart, wicked mouth of yours wrapped around my cock as you take me to the back of your throat. I want to hear my name from that mouth when I make you come with mine. I want the challenge, the chase. I live for it. You’ll make me work for it, earn it. And I’ll worship you for it.”

  Frankie blew out a breath and bent at the waist. “Well, that was at least honest.”

  “I’m not offering forever. It’s not on the table. But what I can give you is time that we’ll both remember.”

  “Fondly or ‘I spit on your grave’ memories?” Frankie quipped.

  Somehow, he was in front of her, moving like a ghost. He threaded his fingers through her hair, and she shivered at the contact. “I’m not going to stop until you give me what I want. You need to understand that. I’ll push your buttons, manipulate you. Whatever it takes. I won’t fall for you. But I’ll be good to you.”

  “Oh, I’ve seen how the Kilbourns do business,” Frankie snapped back.

  He was a breath away. She could smell him, feel the heat pumping off of him. His presence drowned out the steady roll of the surf behind her.

  Aiden didn’t know, couldn’t know, that he was waving a red flag in front of an enraged bull. He wasn’t the only one who loved a challenge. She bet that if they tangled, she could get in a few shots of her own. Maybe even make him fall just a little.

  “So, I agree to be your shiny new plaything, and you give me—”

  “Anything and everything you want.”

  “And what do you get out of it?”

  “You.”

  She wanted to laugh, to make a joke. This didn’t happen to Franchesca Baranski. She met nice guys in coffee shops and offices, and they went to plays and bars and had fun, energetic sex. This happened only in the dog-eared novels on her bookshelf. Billionaire sweeps regular girl off her feet.

  God, she at least hoped the orgasm count of fiction would come true.

  “I’m going to kiss you,” he said, his voice low and rough.

  Frankie slapped a hand to his chest. “Uh-uh. You’re going to kiss me when I say you can kiss me. I’m not a ‘submit to the alpha’ kind of girl. I’m a ‘kick him in the balls and take what I want’ woman.”

  “What do you want?”

  “To break you.”

  She caught him by surprise. That much was clear when her mouth met and took his. H
e stilled beneath her lips, her hands, for the span of a heartbeat. And then the beast was out of its cage. His hands on her felt so right. He pulled her into him, and she felt the heat, the hard of his body.

  There was nothing soft or gentle about him. And she didn’t want him to be.

  She wanted to jump off that jagged edge of pleasure they’d been dancing on. She wanted to throw herself to the wolves. The wolf. Aiden’s teeth raked her lower lip, and she whimpered. He used it to gain access to her mouth, his tongue sweeping inside, claiming new territory.

  She shoved at his jacket, needing far fewer layers between them. Then it was her hands splayed over the thin material of his shirt. She felt the steady thrum of his heart under her hand. It gave her a little thrill to know that he was nearly as revved as she.

  With one hand, he dove into her hair, closing his fist around her curls and pulling. The pain at her scalp should have been a warning to slow down, to back off. But it only heightened her craving. He growled into her mouth, and the sound went straight to her belly.

  Frankie’s nipples were begging to be released, to be stroked and tasted and sucked. And her panties were so wet there was no way they could catch fire now.

  “Don’t play with me, Franchesca,” Aiden said, leaving a millimeter between their mouths. “Don’t torture me.”

  “Shut up and kiss me, Aiden.”

  “Tell me I can have you. Tell me you’re mine.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Aiden kicked open the door to his room so hard it bounced off the wall. But he pushed them through the doorway before it flew back to hit them. He shoved it closed behind them and felt blindly for the lock without breaking from Frankie’s mouth. Her mouth, God, that mouth.

  Everything she did with those lush lips and wicked tongue drove him insane. They should have talked. The expectations should have been made clear before this.

  Frankie slipped her hands between the buttons of his shirt, her fingers flexing on the fabric.

  “You’re rich, right? You can afford a new shirt?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he breathed.