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16
OLIVIER
Well, isn’t this a sight? There’s a half-naked doorman in my bed. How the mighty have fallen. And I’m most definitely referring to him.
A week ago, he was too good to take more from me than the use of my mouth, and now look at the bastard.
But seriously…look at him. The gorgeous man in my bed.
“Are you gonna lie down or what?” he asks.
I do my best to keep my expression bland. “As long as you’re sure you don’t snore,” I quip.
“I don’t. Silas would have told me.”
Before I ask who the fuck is Silas? I take a breath. It’s none of my business. “Silas, huh?” I ask instead as I pull off my shirt and walk to my side of the bed.
“You wouldn’t know him. He’s just another doorman.”
“You never know,” I say. “I meet a lot of doormen.”
“Meet or glide by?”
“You act like I never acknowledged you, when you and I both know I did.”
“Hm. Still, I doubt you’d be able to pick Silas out of a lineup even if you have been through his building.”
I want to ask, is he as good-looking as you, but I don’t. I might not have ever felt attracted to a man before, but I do notice the good-looking ones. And Drew is nothing if not exceedingly handsome. If we had equal social standing, he’d be major competition.
I don’t have a hard time attracting women or anything, but I bet they swarm Drew like flies. And I don’t love the feeling that thought gives me, either. I’m attracted to him. I just told him I was “his” and I basically meant it. The only thing I am pondering was whether he meant it when he said “mine,” or if that was just a heat of the moment thing.
Because it definitely got me hot.
I pull back the covers and get in bed. Unsure how to play this, I remain on my back, a healthy distance from him. I have no idea what I’m doing.
“Are we ever gonna get past this whole class difference thing you have such a chip on your shoulder about?”
He flops roughly over, and I turn my head to find him glaring at me. “Chip on my shoulder?”
“Uh. Yeah.”
“You think I resent you because you’re rich?”
“I’m not rich,” I say. “My parents are. I have nothing. But yes, I do think you resent me for that.”
“I resent you because you shove it in my face.”
“How do I do that?”
“Don’t play games, Peach. We’re not doing games, you and me. We’re either straight up with each other, or I’m outta here.”
I swallow hard, hoping he doesn’t notice. “All right fine. So I showed off a little for you. You’re intimidating, if you haven’t noticed that about yourself.”
His brow scrunches. “What?”
“There’s the resting bitch face, for one,” I wave a hand to demonstrate that his expression right now is a perfect example. “And honestly—you’re a good-looking guy. Better looking than me.”
He snorts. “What?”
