Page 3 of Oliver
“You got it.” When my gaze catches on his perky arse again while he’s turned, I tell myself I’m just missing my girlfriend. But I don’t look away.
When he turns around and catches my eyes on him I feel my cheeks flushing and clear my throat. He gives me a sultry smile and a wink, making my flush deepen as he makes his way back to me and slides the fruity concoction in front of me, along with a napkin. I take a sip and almost moan as the taste of rum, pineapple juice, orange juice, and coconut cream slides over my taste buds and down my throat.
“Anything else?” he asks, that smile ever present.
“No, thank you,” I reply, expecting him to move on to the next customer, but he doesn’t.
“I love your accent,” he says. “Where are you from?”
I blink. “Scarsdale.”
He laughs, and I flush even more.
“Funny and sexy.” He’s leaning on the bar top now, his face even closer to mine. I can smell the alcohol on him, not his breath, which smells of peppermint, but on his skin and clothes, mixed with an aroma of sweat that I find I do not dislike, and a hint of orange. It’s intoxicating and I have to stop myself from leaning closer to breathe him in.
“I hadn’t intended to be amusing,” I reply instead.
He smiles wider. “You’re British, right?”
I nod.
“Damn, you Brits and your sexy af accents are my weakness.” He bites his lip as his eyes lower to my mouth. My heart rate spikes again as his gaze lingers for a moment and then returns to my eyes. I see the desire there and I swallow hard. Sweat gathers on the back of my neck and palms as my throat constricts, so much so that when he says, “How’d you come to be in this little neck of the woods?” I have trouble responding and my voice comes out like a goddamn squeak at first, before I clear it and reply.
“I uh…I moved here with my parents and sister when I was fifteen. Well, not here, I suppose, but New York.”
“Scarsdale,” he says, grinning. I nod. “I used to live near Scarsdale before I came here for school. My mom is still there.”
“Oh, really?”
He nods. “Yeah, I don’t go back a lot because of school and work, but it’s home. Where in the UK are you from?”
“Southeast London,” I say. “Bromley.”
His gaze darts to my lips again and his voice is huskier, making a shiver run down my spine when he says, “And are all men from Southeast London as sexy as you?”
My cheeks heat. Shit. I know he’s probably only saying these things because it’s his job to make the customer happy, and maybe he believes I’ll give him a bigger tip if I feel flattered. And fuck, he might be right. “I…I don’t know,” I say, my gaze locked with his, and then wince internally, as my flush deepens. Christ what is happening to me? I’ve never been so flustered in my life.I don’t know? Smooth, Oliver.
“I’m sorry,” he says, standing again and pulling the towel out of his back pocket. I see his cheeks pinken slightly too,and wonder if maybe he’s not as confident as he appears. “I’m making you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean?—”
“No!” I’m startled by my own reaction. What the fuck am I doing? I should be accepting his apology and letting him move on, drink my drink and go home. Though I can’t imagine driving the hour back to Scarsdale tonight. I’ll probably get a hotel. But hotel or not, the last thing I should be doing is engaging with him. Is it so wrong though? It’s just a bit of fun. And I can’t stop. He’s intriguing, and I find myself unwinding as he smiles at me once more, my stress beginning to evaporate, my shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit. Some of that is the drink, I’m sure, but some of it is him.
He grins, his shoulders relaxing as well, and I find myself wanting to lick the dimple that appears on his right cheek. “So what brings you to a bar an hour from home?”
I sigh again. “It’s been a rather long day, I’m afraid. Just needed a drive, and a drink, and ended up here, I suppose.”
“Work stress?” he asks, and I give a small smile. His features turn down slightly like he’s actually genuinely interested in my life, and wants to help. Like he cares.
“Among other things,” I say, before taking another sip of my drink.
“You know,” he says, his voice lowering as he leans over the counter again, this time even closer. He seems a bit flustered but I can’t understand why. He bites that bottom lip again as his eyes meet mine, and I feel my cock twitching once more. Fucking hell. “I know of a great way to unwind.”
My eyes widen and I choke on the last bit of drink sliding down my throat, causing me to gasp. I bring my napkin to my mouth as my face flames, my eyes watering slightly. “I beg your pardon,” I say, a hand on my chest. He flushes beautifully, his smile widening as he glances down. My eyes dart around theroom before returning to him. I lower my voice. “Are you asking what I think you are?”
“No pressure,” he says, like he just asked if I wanted to watch a ball game or play golf on the weekend, not fuck him in the loo. “It doesn’t have to be sex, sex. I could blow you. But the other thing is definitely on the table, too.”
I find myself staring at those plump pillowy lips and my cock jumps at the thought of having them around me, swallowing me, those stunning blue eyes locked with mine. I’m sporting a semi in seconds, and my brain is screaming at me to say no! Why the fuck haven’t I said no? Said I have a girlfriend, that I’m not fucking gay, that I have never been with a man before, that he’s too damn young for me? So many reasons for me to be shaking my head right now.
But I don’t.