Page 22 of Tempting Frankie
His eyes rake over me, drinking in the sight of my exposed midriff and legs. I'm acutely aware that I'm wearing nothing but the cropped sweater and a pair of lacy panties that nestle between my cheeks.
“Alexander!” I hiss, trying to tug the sweater down. “Ever heard of knocking or yodeling or literally anything except busting in like the Kool-Aid man?”
He smirks, letting the curtain fall closed behind him. “My apologies. I got impatient.”
I roll my eyes, turning back to the mirror. “Well, congratulations. You caught me looking like Winnie the fucking Pooh. Crop top, no pants, ass and belly hanging out.”
To my surprise, Alexander doesn't laugh. Instead, he steps closer, his chest brushing my back. His hands come to rest on my hips, fingers splaying wide.
“You look magnificent,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear.
I scoff, trying to ignore the way my body responds to his touch. “Right. Because every guy's fantasy is a chubby girl with her gut on display.”
Alexander's grip tightens, almost painfully. “Don't,” he warns. “Don't you dare put yourself down like that. A particularly nasty habit you default to when you’re feeling anxious or overwhelmed. I’ll have to break you of that.”
One hand slides up to cup my breast through the sweater, while the other dips low, fingers teasing along the waistband of my panties.
“Look at yourself,” he commands. “Really look.”
I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet my own gaze in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and dark with arousal. The sweater clings to my full chest, emphasizing the dip of my waist before it flares out to my hips.
“These curves,” he murmurs, hands spanning my waist. “This soft, beautiful skin.” His thumbs brush the underside of my breasts, and I bite back a moan. “It's all perfect.”
I shiver, leaning back against his solid chest. “Alexander...”
“Shh,” he soothes, his fingers dipping lower, ghosting over the damp fabric between my thighs. “You don’t get to hide from me, Francesca. Not your body. Not your fears. Not a fucking thing.”
His other hand moves up, cupping my jaw and turning my face toward his. Our eyes lock for a heated moment before his mouth crashes down on mine.
I moan into the kiss, parting my lips to let his tongue sweep inside. It's hungry, almost desperate, like he's trying to devour me whole.
“Fuck,” I breathe, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
Alexander pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes dark with desire. “That's the idea, sweetheart.”
Chapter 9
Alexander
Iguide Francesca out of the boutique, my hand possessively at the small of her back. The warmth of her skin radiates through the thin silk of her dress, tempting me to slide my fingers lower.
I should have taken her in the dressing room, pressed up against the mirror, just for that Winnie the Pooh comment alone.
“Everything you chose will be delivered to the house within the hour. Madeleine will pick out similar things and have them tailored and they will arrive within the week,” I inform her as we step onto the sidewalk. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over her olive skin.
Francesca nods, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “Right. Your house. Which is apparently my house now, too.”
I chuckle, pulling her closer as we approach the waiting town car. “Our house,” I correct her. “For the next three months, at least. Unless you decide you want to extend our arrangement.”
She rolls her eyes, but I don't miss the way her breath catches when I lean in close. “Don't get ahead of yourself, old man.”
I growl low in my throat, my fingers digging into her hip. “Watch that mouth of yours, little girl. Or I might have to put it to better use.”
A delicious shiver runs through her body. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Both,” I murmur, opening the car door, waving Michael away from assisting. I help her inside, taking a moment to admire the way her ass looks in that tight dress. I can't wait to get my hands on her properly and tie her up.
As I slide in beside her, I notice her fidgeting with the hem.
