Page 2 of French Martini

A loud pop draws my attention to the bar, where Ridley is now shaking a bottle and spraying champagne all over the place just as the DJ they hired announces that it’s midnight.

When I look back at Lowen, his expression is tense, but then his lips part, and he says, “Would you like to kiss me, Oakley?”

“Hell yeah.”

Before he can change his mind, I close the space between us and finally taste his lips. I’m not sure I ever considered what kissing him would feel like, but my weak imagination wouldn’t have been able to conjure the heat building between us.

Lowen parts his lips readily, inviting me to explore, and I do. Fuck yeah. I wrap my arms around him, holding him as close as possible as he buries his fingers in my hair, twisting the short strands the best he can.

If I were a betting man, and I am, I’d say this kiss has been building on his end as long as it has been on mine, but I know better than to get a big head about it. Lowen is guarded, and even though he’s allowing this moment, I’m positive that he’ll be all business again by tomorrow morning.

I have to enjoy this for what it is. A sweet moment in time.

We kiss until the song is over and we’re being knocked around by people. My cock is painfully hard, confined by my tight jeans, and when Lowen steps back, his lips are swollen, his chin red from my beard.

He drags his tongue over his lips, almost like he’s savoring my taste, but then he shocks me even more, twisting his fist in my shirt and saying in the clearest, most determined voice, “Take me home?”

A slow smile tugs at my lips. “You got it, beautiful.”

Lowen

Ugh.

I wish I could blame my throbbing temples on too many martinis last night, but unfortunately, I ended the night all too sober. Which, tragically, didn’t stop me from climbing all over Oakley like a horny monkey. The celebratory mood of a new year went straight to my head and I couldn’t bear the thought of not kissing the gorgeous man when the clock struck midnight. So sue me.

I rub my forehead before dragging my hand through my hair. Now I have to navigate that poor decision. After almost a solid year of ignoring the constant pull of attraction toward him, I fucked up and now I’m sure he’s going to expect to keep it going. Why wouldn’t he?

I can’t though. No way. I’m the last person on the planet Oakley should get attached to. My heart is firmly protected by steel walls and I won’t tear them down, not even for his puppy dog eyes and sexy smirk. Unfortunately for me, I can still feel his strong arms holding me close, and my lips tingle from his claiming kiss.

He’s an awfully quiet sleeper too, so I carefully roll over, hoping to avoid an awkward morning, only to find the other side of my bed empty. Hmm. I listen for running water in the bathroom, but it’s silent.

Sitting upright, I glance around my suite. There’s always a chance he’s in the sitting room, but if he is, he’s very quiet. That’s when I notice the note on the pillow. I pick it up, bracing myself for some shmoopy shit about how wonderful the night was and blah blah blah.

Low

I made a pot of coffee. Hope you don’t mind. Had some stuff to do so I took off.

Have a good day.

~Oak

Oh. Happy New Year. x

I flip the note over, expecting more but finding nothing. That’s it. No shmoop or requests for more time. Huh.

Well that’s great. Perfect, actually. It’s not like we did the deed. We just made out until our lips were sore and we couldn’t keep our eyes open, even though I really wanted to get into those jeans of his and see what I’ve been missing out on. I just wouldn’t let myself and he didn’t offer.

He’s kind of a gentleman. He also dipped before we could have the infamous awkward morning after. A smile tugs at my lips.

Perfect.

I climb out of bed for a quick shower before enjoying a cup of the coffee Oakley brewed. After an hour of reading emails, I head downstairs to see what the guys are up to, interested in what the dynamic will be now that Stewart has been added to our mix. Salem seems like he’s always been with us, but Stewart is more reserved around us so far. I love the effect his calming energy has on Kit though. It’s lovely.

The scent of bacon lures me into the kitchen where Jerryn is standing at the stove and Bane is juicing fresh oranges. Both men look over at me and smile.

“Morning, diva.” Bane winks. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine, thanks. Why are you looking at me like that?”

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