Page 70 of French Martini

“You are savage.”

“That turned you on?”

“Fuck yeah. You can hold your own, that’s for damn sure. Why are you so concerned about him when you put him in his place like that?”

“It’s what he says publicly, not privately that worries me. He doesn’t like to be embarrassed, so if he has a chance to demean me, and he will, he’ll run with it.”

We step onto the elevator and as the doors slide closed, I press Lowen against the wall, kissing and nibbling his neck. He throws his head back, arching his body so his cock bumps into mine.

“So he’s a coward,” I whisper. “And you’re a viper, ready to strike.”

“I may have triggered his ego though. He might say something terrible about me just so they’ll run after me for a response.”

His breathy words and soft moans let me know he’s enjoying my kisses.

“Fuck him.”

“No thank you.”

I laugh, pressing my forehead to Lowen’s. “God, I love you.”

Lowen’s smile fades and I wish I could eat those words.

“Love…your personality. Your feisty spirit.”

He nods as he searches my face. “Thank you.”

The doors open on our floor and we walk to our room in silence. I hope I didn’t ruin anything. Lowen isn’t ready for that and the last thing I want to do is add more to his plate this week.

As he wraps his coat around himself, his eyes flicker across my face. He doesn’t say anything, but he does smile, which calms my nerves a little. He’s not running away. I can work with that.

I take his hand and walk back with him to the elevator. Several people join us, so we don’t speak, but once we’re outside on the sidewalk a few paces from the hotel, Lowen stops and faces me.

“I like you, Oakley.”

My heart sinks. Here’s the part where he tells me all of this is fake and temporary and I’m a damn fool for catching feelings.

“I know.”

He shakes his head. “No, you don’t. I mean that I…reallylike you. A lot.”

“Oh.” I exhale a relieved laugh. “Good. I like you a lot too.”

Lowen nods, but his expression is still tight. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t remember how to…” He huffs in frustration.

“Kitten.” I step closer, wrapping my arms around him. “It’s okay. I do.”

Lowen cups my face. “I’m trying. I hope you see that.”

“I do. We’ll figure it out, and there’s no rush. We don’t have to talk about things or label them. We can just go with it.”

“Go with it,” he repeats, like he’s convincing himself. “Okay.”

“Okay.” I take his hands and kiss his palms. “Ready?”

“I think so.”

There’s a lot more meaning in those words than it sounds. I want to scream out loud that I’m the lucky ass who gets to woo Lowen, but I hold it in, choosing instead to grip his hand and walk proudly with him to the restaurant.

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