Page 57 of French Martini

“Thank you for trusting me.”

My throat tightens and I have to swallow down the tidal wave of emotions coming at me. Fear, defensiveness, need, affection—all those emotions swirl together, unable to stand on their own.

I manage the truth though. “Thank you for pushing me.”

He smiles, leaning his head back on the sofa with his eyes closed. Oakley is special, and I’d have to be an idiot not to see it. He deserves so much more than I can give him, but am I a selfish jerk for wanting to keep this anyway?

“Can I tell you something, Oakley?”

“Anything, kitten.”

“It’s about what Sam said to me earlier.”

He opens his eyes, turning his head to see my face. “Okay.”

“He said you’re the best guy he’s ever known.”

Oakley nods.

“And that I had no reason to be jealous of him because any fool could see that all your attention is mine.”

Oakley’s expression is neutral. “How did it feel to hear that?”

“Scary,” I admit. He starts to speak, but I put my fingers over his lips. “And good. Really fucking good, because I agree with Sam. You’re a remarkable person, and I know I’m lucky.”

He pulls my fingers from his lips. “Why is it scary?”

“I don’t want to get hurt again, and I don’t want to be the man who hurts you. I would never forgive myself.”

Oakley holds my hand, lifting it to brush his lips over it. “We’re just having fun, Low. It doesn’t have to be more than that. Obviously, I’m into you, but my eyes are wide open. I know where you stand, and I respect it. I’ll never push you for more than you’re willing to give me.”

“But how is that fair to you?”

He smiles. “You’re not holding me hostage, kitten. I’m here willingly. Don’t worry about me. I’m good. So damn good.”

“Okay.”

“If all you want to do is fuck and suck, I can do that.”

“And…” My chest tightens with the words I’m holding in, but I have to know. “If I want more than that?”

“Say the word, beautiful,” he whispers, gazing into my eyes. “I’d be proud to be your man.”

“And if you find out that I’m a mess on the inside?”

“I renovate messes for a living. I can handle it.”

“You might be too good for this world, Oakley.”

“Or I might be perfect for you, kitten.” He kisses my hand again. “You’re not ready though, and there’s no rush. I’ll be here. For now, we’ll have fun, and we’ll get through next week together.”

He’s right. I’m not ready, but for the first time in a long time, I’d like to be.

SIXTEEN

OAKLEY

I’ve been lyingon my couch watching football all morning when my phone buzzes on the coffee table. I reach over lazily to grab it, but sit up straight and mute the TV when Lowen’s name flashes.

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