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“Must’ve been fun living there,” said Georgie.

“It was. It’s a great place.” Will’s gaze tangled with Oliver’s. “Maybe your fella and I can compare notes someday.”

Like your name on my paternity document? Oliver nodded tightly, suppressing the fury blistering inside him.

Will raised the tub of fruit wedges. “Well, better get back at it. We’re one bartender down, so…”

“No rest for the wicked.” Georgie waved then gathered Oliver’s hand in hers as they snaked through the crowd, heading toward her usual booth.

Fuck. Oliver swallowed hard, fighting the dread thickening his throat. Now I have to tell her. Soon.

Swaying and singing along to “Deeper and Deeper”, Georgie leaned into him. “I’m thrilled you finally met. I just wanna show you off—to everyone! I feel so grateful and lucky.”

Her effusive praise and the warmth of her hand softened Oliver’s anger somewhat, and he surrendered to a genuine grin. It wasn’t her fault he carried heart-wrenching baggage, and she certainly didn’t deserve a moody boyfriend that night regardless of the circumstances. He needed to put his angst aside and focus on the positives: Will didn’t recognize him, and his secret, while more precarious than ever, remained safe. He also had the most heartening positive by his side—Georgie. She cared about him, saw him as worthy. Lovable, even.

At least, for now. Until he shared his truth.

Oliver squeezed her hand. “I’m the lucky one.”

Stopping at the edge of the booth, already occupied by Randall, Leesa, and Stefanie, Georgie turned suddenly and kissed him. Soft and assured, her mouth lingered, scrubbing Oliver’s mind of all things Will. He curled his hands around her waist, holding her tighter, kissing her like nothing else mattered.

“YO, GET A ROOM!” snickered Davis, chucking his coat onto the pile in their booth as Leesa and Stefanie clapped and whistled.

Opening his eyes, Oliver eased back and Georgie slipped her fingers between the buttons on his shirt. “Shall we?” She smiled coyly.

She didn’t have to ask him twice.

TWENTY-EIGHT

GEORGIE

“We didn’t”—she gasped between kisses as Oliver unfastened the final button on her long coat—“plan this well.”

With a quick shake of his head, Oliver’s leg slipped between her thighs and Georgie bucked, melting into her apartment door as it closed with a slam. She clutched fistfuls of his hair, holding on for dear life.

“Should’ve brought your Montréal stuff to mine.” Oliver kissed down her neck, his warm exhales peppering her skin between sucks. “Met the bus from there tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh,” Georgie groaned, pressing against him, meeting the long, hard ridge bulging through his trousers. The heat, the impressive size, the need to have him unleashed a feral want. She clawed the front of his shirt, her breaths quickening as her hands travelled, but he pulled away. Georgie’s eyes flickered open mid-gasp. “Ollie?”

“Lemme just…” He gently gripped her hockey jersey by the bottom hem and lifted it up from the waistband of her leggings.

Perplexed at first, Georgie raised her arms so the cherished sweater could quickly slip over her head. “Thank you,” she panted, yanking off the long-sleeved sweater she wore underneath, her skin pebbling with goosebumps as she flung it to the floor. Oliver, surprisingly, turned the jersey right-side out and placed it on the ladderback chair by the door. The thoughtful act made Georgie crave him all the more. “C’mere…”

His returning gaze caught on her lace bra and the peaked nipples stretching the fabric. His throat bobbed. “Gorgeous.” Bowing his head, he pulled the left cup aside and greedily closed his mouth around her, sucking hard, his tongue pressing and swirling, the intensity drenching her underwear.

Arching against him, Georgie whimpered as his teeth gently teased. She clutched his back, a torrent of desperate desire aching between her quivering thighs. “O-Oliver, harder⁠—”

He stopped mid-suck. “Not yet. Soon.”

As he straightened, she met his mouth with frenzied passion, their tongues exploring and tasting as they staggered down the short hall to the bedroom. Georgie rubbed the thick bulge in his trousers then tore open his belt and slid down the zipper, plunging inside the elastic of his underwear. Taking his hot length in her hand, she slid down his shaft and back up again, forcing a gruff groan from his throat.

“Fuck me,” she growled against his lips. “Now.”

Feverish hands dragged and tugged, ripping away trousers and leggings, bra and button-down, leaving only a drenched pair of lace underwear and tented boxer shorts between them. Georgie kissed him hungrily as they tumbled onto the queen-size bed, their clumsy landing pushing a laugh from her throat.

A flicker of a smile curved Oliver’s mouth. “What do you like?” He braced himself above her.

Admiring the glorious view of his slightly toned chest with a sweep of dark hair and those sexy forearms caging her in, she purred, “Everything.” She grasped the back of his neck, bringing his lips back to hers for a deep, ravenous kiss. Hooking her leg around his thigh, she pulled him downward, closer, tighter, hoping…yup! His hard cock pressed where she desperately needed him, so she rocked her hips, eliciting a hoarse groan from his throat and a retaliatory hip roll of his own. Georgie moaned into his mouth, but Oliver broke away.