The moment fractures.
She slips her hand from mine and I already miss it. Olivia and Erin share a brief yet loaded silent exchange. The meaning is lost on me, though there is no doubt I’m the subject of said interchange.
Somewhat flustered, Olivia pulls her blonde friend forward. “Um, this is Tamsin.”
“Hi, Tamsin.” Extending my hand, I smile. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Sam Beaulieu.”
The blonde blushes. “Hi, Sam.”
Erin rolls her eyes. “Can I get a selfie with you?”
“Ah, sorry, no selfies.” Next to autographs, selfies are the most requested, and I now refuse them. The last one I agreed to resulted in someone photoshopping me into a compromising position. It went viral in seconds. Lesson learned.
“Aw, seriously?” Olivia pouts. Her exaggerated expression suggests she’s playing it up for her friends. Or maybe for me?
Either way, it’s dangerously cute.
“That would be the best part—proof we were here. Well, the best part is the food; second best would be a photo with you.” She grins. Is she flirting? “You sure you won’t reconsider? Three beautiful women wanting to be with you?”
Sheisflirting.
Her pouting lips are lusciously tempting, and thoughts of sucking on her delectable bottom lip continue to assault me as my cock hardens. Sucking in air, I will it down.
Focus.
She’s bold and spirited, not brash like Erin. I like a woman with just enough spunk to leave me wanting more. With Olivia, I want more.
Although she’s a bit of a conundrum. At first, when Tamsin forced her to stop, she was skittish like an animal caught in a snare. Now, she’s playful, dare I say even enjoying herself. Eyes twinkling, the ghost of a sly grin teases her mouth.
“Are you sure you won’t take a selfie with us?” Erin pushes with a swift glance in Olivia’s direction. Her suggestion is immediately clear, and while not necessarilywise, I’m no fool. A selfie would be a chance to be nearer to Olivia.
I glance between them, two attractive but wildly different women, both waiting for my response. One is sexy and sophisticated, someone I’d like to get to know, and the other is a weird cross between sex kitten and barracuda. Erin seems willing to play any game to get her way.
“Okay, just one. With all of you.” Stepping out of the kitchen, I slide in beside Olivia, savoring the opportunity to touch her.
She casts her doe eyes my way and her grin falters, as she seems to realize the implication of this impromptu photo. We are close.
I cautiously wrap my arm around Olivia’s waist. “Is this okay?”
Uncertain, she glances at Erin, who encourages her with a wide smile and a nod. “Of course.” Despite the casual tone to her voice, the rapid flutter of her pulse says otherwise.
As if I’m one to talk. My heart hammers against my rib cage as her soft, inviting curves meld into my embrace. Her scent is scintillating, spicy like nutmeg or cinnamon with a hint of cocoa. Absolutely edible.
Tamsin sidles up on Olivia’s other side, and Erin claims my left. She grips my waist tightly and my arm hovers uselessly over her shoulder. Just another reason I refuse selfies—the proverbial copping a feel. Unfortunately, more times than not, women use the occasion to touch the merchandise. Mind you, I wouldn’t complain if Olivia were taking liberties with my body.
Speaking of Olivia, my focus is all on her. Soft curves, steady breathing, the faint tremor when I pull her even tighter for the photo.
Click.
As soon as the phone flashes, I step away, taking Olivia with me. My grip tightens instinctively on her hip and my cock twitches. Her soft, warm flesh in my grip has me imagining all the other places my fingers would like to stroke, to explore.
My cheeks heat at my forward behavior. Damn, this woman has me blushing. Me…blushing. What the hell is happening? Sure, I’m a take-charge kind of guy, but still, I’ve never been so bold with a woman I’ve only just met. Surprisingly, Olivia brings out the animal in me. It’s a new, weird, and exhilarating sensation.
Her body reacts—tense, breathless, flushed. She’s got that skittish, need to escape look to her again, and I can’t have her leave.
“Is this your first time at Beaulieu’s?” My tone is even, trying to steady the energy pulsing between us.
“Yes,” Erin answers quickly. “I’ve wanted to come for months. The last time I was in Montreal, I couldn’t get in. You were fully booked.”
