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He downed the rest of his drink and returned it to the bar with a clunk that vibrated the bar top. “Fine. One song.”
I led him onto the crowded dance floor, finding a space near the middle where we could put our hands on each other without being crushed. He clumsily placed his hands on my hips and I moved mine to his shoulders before we started moving, my sloppy-drunk dance moves more erratic than usual. It didn’t seem to bother Oliver much as he worked to keep up.
It wasn’t long until I had started to work up a sweat, blood racing through my veins as I let him dig his fingers into my hips and pull me closer. Someone bumped me from behind and I was jostled into Oliver until we were pressed together, from our chests to our hips. I looked over my shoulder for the assailant and saw Parker throw me a wicked grin as he disappeared into the crowd. I shook my head and rolled my eyes. Parker was never one to leave well enough alone. When I turned back to Oliver, his gray eyes were dark and serious, and my breath caught in my throat. Our gazes locked and I couldn’t look away as he licked his lips, sending a bolt of lust through me. My heart raced and I wondered if Oliver could feel the thud of my pulse in his chest. His gaze left mine, flickering down to look at my lips for a fraction of a second, before he moved a hand from my hip to the back of my neck and hauled me in for a kiss.
Electricity raced through me, crackling from where our mouths touched and our tongues slipped together, straight down to my groin, making me hard as steel almost immediately. Between that and the alcohol, my head swam, and I closed my eyes, holding tight to Oliver for balance and focus. I moaned into the kiss and rocked my hips forward into his. He was hard too, which made me want him even more.
He returned the pressure, thrusting his hips forward into mine. I gasped and tightened my grip on his shoulder, tugging hard at his t-shirt as I made a vain attempt to get our bodies even closer. My breathing ragged, I pulled away. “I want you.”
His pupils were wide and his gaze flickered to my mouth before returning to meet my eyes. My heart raced, pounding heavily in my chest. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Five
Oliver
Thebedshiftedassomeone moved beside me, unceremoniously thrusting me into consciousness. I opened my eyes a fraction, and even though there was only a sliver of light streaming in the room, my head rewarded me with a throbbing ache that quickly devolved into the room spinning and wave after wave of crippling nausea. I squeezed my eyes shut and took long, slow breaths through my nose until the room stopped spinning and the urge to throw up passed. Eventually, I peeked my eyes open again and craned my neck to see if I could identify the person still sleeping next to me.
I let out a quiet sigh of relief. I was in bed with a man, so at least I hadn’t gone completely out of character. I didn’t recognize the man at first, a tousled head of sandy brown hair all I could see above the white sheet pulled up around his soft, rounded shoulder, but when he stirred again, rolling to face me, I recognized him in an instant.
Cam. Cameron Newton. The annoying customer from the restaurant, the one who’d called me eight billion times for his friend’s bachelor party. The one I’d seen at a bar after I’d left the restaurant last night. That Cam Newton.
My stomach fluttered a bit, less nausea and more fear of what I’d done. I’d ended up in bed with a near stranger, a stranger who was a customer to boot. I groaned softly, afraid of waking him, and started to sit up. My stomach snarled in protest but I pushed myself up and slid out of bed, my brain quickly registering that I was naked as my morning half-erection unstuck itself from my thigh and bobbed heavily between my legs.
Delightful. So we’d had sex then, I guessed. I hated the idea of fucking someone if I was too drunk to remember it, especially if they were also too drunk to remember. It was just… not my style. I preferred consent and at least a measure of sobriety. I glanced around to see if I could spot a discarded condom or wrapper, but there wasn’t one. Not even a bottle of lube on the nightstand. I hoped that was a good sign and not a bad one.
I glanced around the hotel room to see if I could find my clothes. It was too dark in the room to see much, so instead, I tiptoed to the bathroom and closed the door behind me without making so much as a single sound, praying that I hadn’t woken Cam as I clicked on the light. Maybe I could get out of the hotel without waking him at all and therefore avoid any awkward goodbyes. I shook my head—it seemed pretty rotten to sneak out, even if it had just been a one-night stand. He seemed too nice to ghost.
We were in an expensive hotel room, if the bathroom was any indication. There was a big soaking tub and separate glass shower with a double shower head. Opposite the shower was a long counter with two sinks and a mirror spanning the wall. I stared at myself in the mirror, taking note of the dark circles under my eyes. I needed a shower desperately. My brain was still throbbing and I scrubbed my hands over my face to wake myself up a little. As I did, something caught on my stubble. I pulled my hands away from my face and peered at them.
I furrowed my brow in confusion, not entirely sure I understood what I was looking at. I was wearing a simple gold wedding band. My stomach threatened to empty its contents then and I swallowed hard against the urge, clapping my right hand over my mouth. I continued to stare at my left hand in disbelief.
I tried to remember what had happened the night before, certain that if I could remember the night’s events, I’d figure out that it was all just a stupid joke. My memories would lead me to the truth, I was sure of it. I just had to walk myself through the night mentally and I’d see that the ring didn’t mean what I thought it might.
Dinner service had been fine—no worse than usual, that was for sure. Cam’s party had been our biggest table of the night, and he’d paid handsomely for the privilege of having a custom menu. They hadn’t been too rowdy or anything. In fact, Cara had reported that the table had tipped their servers well and had been excellent guests. I had even taken the time to duck out of the kitchen and greet them, and Cam’s friends had seemed perfectly nice.
Nothing remarkable had happened, at least not that I could think of. Allie hadn’t screwed up anything too badly. Jeremiah had assured me over and over that they’d be fine without me, and frankly, he’d probably been grateful when I’d finally pulled off my apron and hat and slipped out of the kitchen for the night.
As I tried to recall the rest, I turned on the shower and slid the glass door closed behind me before adjusting each shower head. I sighed deeply as I soaked under the spray, the water unraveling the throbbing headache that made my brain feel like it was in a vise grip. My nausea slowly receded until my body was more exhausted than anything. As I washed myself, I continued trying to remember the night.
I grabbed soap from the soap dish and scrubbed my important parts, letting my memory call up the moment I’d seen Cam at the bar. Admittedly, I had been super flirtatious with him, which was unusual for me. I mostly avoided interacting with customers outside of the restaurant. I didn’t want to burn bridges, after all. Sleeping with people who paid for my services in the kitchen got messy.
Regardless, I’d flirted with him. I’d been good and drunk when I’d spotted him, and he was still smiling even though I knew he’d been to probably a half-dozen bars at that point, his hair mussed and his cheeks rosy. I’d been inexplicably drawn to him since we’d met in person, and my attraction to him had never been more apparent as he’d ordered a drink. I hadn’t been able to stop myself from chatting with him.
I remembered Cam asking me to dance with him and practically dragging me out onto the dance floor while his friends grinned like hyenas at us, certain that something good was about to happen between Cam and the chef. His hands had been warm when he’d placed them on my shoulders and when I’d gripped his lean hips, breath left my lungs. The feel of his body against mine was electrifying, a current racing through me while we’d touched, grinding together, erection pressing into erection. I’d never wanted anyone as much as I’d wanted him. I’d been drunk from lust as much as I had been from the alcohol.
I rinsed the soap from my body and moved to shampooing my hair with the bottle sitting on the shelf. Suppressing a groan of pleasure as I scrubbed my scalp, my mind continued to review the night’s events. We’d left Julian’s and I’d taken him to a much smaller bar, Tool Box, a local gay staple a few blocks away from the most packed tourist bars. We’d had drink after drink and continued dancing, getting dangerously close to fucking each other right there on the dance floor. His lips were scorching and pliant under mine as we’d kissed, just the memory of it making me hard again.
His eyelids had fluttered closed and he’d whispered in my ear. “You going to make an honest man out of me?”
And that’s all I remembered.
I rinsed the soap out of my hair and added a little conditioner, squeezing my eyes closed to try to force my memories to return. Nothing. Everything else was a blur—just the briefest of snippets. Bits and pieces. I remembered the feel of his body against mine on the dance floor. I remembered hot breath and desperate touches. I knew we’d left Tool Box at some point, obviously, and I could remember stumbling into the hotel room, kissing feverishly, and the sound of his giggles. I couldn’t remember what we’d done after Tool Box or what we’d done in bed, but I had a sinking feeling I knew the answer to both.
Nothing of substance came back to me. With a sigh, I finished rinsing and turned the water off. I quickly toweled off and turned out the bathroom light before opening the door slowly so as not to make any noise. Even if I wasn’t going to ghost Cam—and Iwasn’t—I didn’t want to wake him, either. I slipped back into bed, easing between the sheets in an effort to disturb him as little as possible.
Just as I settled back down, resting my head on the pillow, Cam’s dark eyes popped open and met my gaze. So much for not waking him.
He looked at me for a long moment, furrowed his brow, and murmured my name. “Oliver? What are you doing here?”
