Page 62 of French Martini

Oakley scoffs. “Babe, you couldn’t look bad if you tried. You are so damn beautiful.” He pulls me close. “I want to mess up that lipstick, but I won’t. Not yet.”

Sliding my hand down his chest, I gaze into his eyes. “But you will later?”

“Count on it.”

“What will you do to me?”

His eyes heat as he grinds his swelling cock into mine. “Guess you’ll find out.”

I can’t decide if I’m more excited about spending a week with Oakley or the awards. Maybe it’s both.

He opens the passenger door for me before putting my bags in the trunk. Once he joins me, he puts his hand on my thigh, squeezing lightly.

“Ready, kitten?”

Nodding, I smile. “I’m ready.”

EIGHTEEN

OAKLEY

About an hour later,we arrive at the hotel, and Lowen releases a relieved breath. “No media out front yet.”

“That’s good.”

He directs me to the parking garage, and after finding a spot, I exit the car and gather our things while Lowen leans against the hood, scrolling on his phone.

“Whatcha looking at?”

“Socials. Checking to see if anything is going on.”

“Hey.” He looks up at me as I step forward, pressing against him. “Try to have fun with all of this, huh? You earned it and you’re not walking into the viper pit alone.”

His features soften and he nods. “Good reminder. Thank you.”

I lean in and kiss his cheek, earning a smile. “Come on, kitten. Let’s go check in.”

He takes his overnight bag, clutching the leather handles and looking like he just stepped onto a photo shoot for something expensive. I never in a million years would’ve thought from his exterior that he and I would click so well on so many levels, but that’s why you don’t judge people on their outside appearance.

His heels click across the marble floors of the hotel lobby, and when the woman behind the desk glances up, she smiles brightly.

“Mr. Ainsley, welcome to The Sanctuary. Your room is ready for you.”

“Thank you.” Lowen’s expression is aloof but serene, as if he’s quite used to people knowing his name on sight.

I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a celebrity, but I have a feeling I’ll get a taste of it this week. He signs a slip and nods as the clerk hands him a set of key cards. When he turns to me, his smile fades as his gaze flickers over my shoulder.

“What is it, kitten?”

“Incoming.”

I look over my shoulder to find a group of people heading in our direction from the bar, armed with cameras and microphones.

“Mr. Ainsley! Lowen!”

His body visibly tenses as he leans into me. Reaching down, I grip his free hand and hold on tight. “I’ve got you, Low.”

He nods, keeping his gaze on the horde of people. They throw several questions at him about being honored, being back in the states, what he’s been doing since he left Paris, and who the man next to him is. After a moment, Lowen raises his hand and they instantly fall silent. Wow.

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