Page 78 of Five
I make a mental note to ask him to wear them more often.
“Morning, sweetheart.” Leaning into the booth, Oliver kisses me, a brief caress that lingers even as he pulls away to settle in beside me. “Yum.”
I pick up my coffee and side-eye him. “I’m not sure if you mean me or the food.”
“Definitely you.” He pours himself a mug and adds cream from the small pitcher that sits before us. “How are you this morning?”
A tiny smile touches my lips at the thought of the previous evening. “I’m fantastic.”
“Yeah?” The question is light; his eyes are happy, but there’s a gravity to the query I hear loud and clear.
“You want to know if I’m okay with everything last night,” I say.
He stretches an arm across the back of the booth, sliding close enough so our bodies are flush. “That’s exactly what I want to know,” he replies, his blue gaze steady on me. “Because I’m fast approaching the point where I’m not going to let you walk away, Neve.”
It’s my turn to press my lips softly against his. “I’m more than fine. And I may have already reached the point where I couldn’t walk away if I tried,” I answer.
His response is to pull me tightly against him and kiss me again, hard and deep enough to have me gasping in seconds.
“Lady and gentleman!” Cope’s booming voice cuts our absorption with each other, and we break apart. I swipe my finger across my bottom lip, drying it as surreptitiously as possible. “No PDA unless I’m involved, thank you very much!”
As Cope speaks, he slides into the opposite side of the booth, scooting himself across the bench seat until he’s pressed up against my other side. “Morning, beautiful. My turn.” Taking my chin between his finger and thumb, he angles my face so he can kiss me, too.
“Good morning,” I return softly. Our gazes catch and hold as he draws away, and I feel my cheeks heat as I try to imagine which touch was Cope’s last night. Was that his mouth on my breast? Or were those his fingers in my pussy?
He utters a low, dirty-sounding laugh and pushes my hair away from my ear to whisper in it. “I know exactly what you’re thinking about.”
My cheeks bloom hotter. “No, you don’t.”
“Come by my office later, and I’ll prove it.”
“What are you guys doing to the poor girl?” Remi approaches, a pot of what I assume is oatmeal in his hands. He winks at me, completely at ease, and my stomach flips. It’s hard to reconcile this affable, charming man with the one who fucked me silly last night. “She’s redder than a tomato.”
“Cope’s just being his usual horndog self,” Oliver says.
“Well, we can’t have that.” He sets the oatmeal down and smacks the back of Cope’s head. “Treat her like a lady, dude.”
Cope leers. “I plan to—“
Cope breaks off as Jesse stalks in, his visage black. My heart sinks. Does he still not want me here? I thought we were past this.
I raise my chin. If he thinks he can run me off with his dark moods and asshole attitude, he’s wrong. He’s a beast I’ll take pleasure in taming.
Shoot.He even has me slipping, cursing in my thoughts. By the time I get back to the daycare, I’ll have to gag myself to keep from corrupting all of the kids.
“Just coffee for me,” he tells us, directing his statement to Remi. “I have some shit I need to get to. And FYI, Oscar got called in early this morning, so he’s off island.”
It’s only just turning eight now…Oscar must have gone in while it was dark still. Part of me doesn’t even want to guess at what pulled him in so early. Part of me needs to know. “What happened?” I ask.
Jesse’s look is dismissive. “You don’t need to worry about it.”
Well, that’s rude.
After a moment of disbelief, I start making myself a bowl of oatmeal and the others do the same. I add milk and butter, and a spoon of brown sugar. I contemplate the raisins and decide against them. I stir. Take a bite.
Oliver clears his throat and tries to direct the conversation to light, inconsequential topics. Cope responds while Remi watches silently, eyes narrowed. An undercurrent of tension is palpable, though, dragging us back to silence after each half-hearted attempt.
After a few minutes, I set my spoon down. “What do you mean, I don’t need to worry about it? Is it something to do with my case?”
