Chapter 45: Convenient Excuse

"I know it will." Naomi said. "I would rather we end this as friends."

Friends.

He wasn’t sure why the word felt both reassuring and mildly disappointing. Still, it was sensible. Probably the first sensible thing either of them had done since meeting beside that ATM. "Friends it is then,"

Naomi nodded. "Friends."

Dorian lifted his champagne. "Friends that once had sex."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "You couldn’t just leave it at friends?"

"It would be historically inaccurate." He took another sip, then added casually, "Friends that kiss."

"What?" She raised a brow.

"You did kiss me on Sunday," Dorian reminded her, lifting his glass slightly.

"It was the wine."

"We have got to stop blaming the alcohol. That line is getting old, you know."

Naomi laughed. For a little while longer, they stayed on the rooftop talking about nothing important.

Eventually, Naomi checked the time. Her eyebrows rose.

"You need to go to bed."

Dorian frowned. "You sound like my mother."

"You have work tomorrow. Go to bed before Adrian blames me for destroying your productivity."

"He already blames you for several things."

"I knew that man disliked me."

Dorian smiled. Naomi pushed herself off the chaise and started collecting the glasses.

"I’m serious. Go sleep." She picked up the champagne bottle while Dorian got to his feet.

He was strangely reluctant to leave. They headed downstairs together and returned the bottle to the bar.

Naomi rinsed the glasses in the small sink while Dorian leaned against the counter watching her. Then they took the stairs to Dorian’s bedroom floor. Her room was downstairs.

This was where they separated.

"Goodnight." Naomi leaned in, placed a small kiss against his cheek and turned to leave.

He should have let her. "Naomi?"

"Yes?"

He clenched his fist then unclenched it. His brain was already screaming at him.

Let her go.

Do not complicate this.

Just let her go downstairs, you dumb fuck.

Naomi waited. "You okay?"

Dorian stepped closer. He needed an excuse.

Alcohol.

Perfect.

They had already blamed nearly every questionable decision between them on alcohol. Why break tradition now?

Naomi’s brows drew together. "Dorian?"

He moved closer. She had plenty of time to understand exactly what he was doing. He watched her face and reached for her. His hand settled lightly against her waist. He pulled her toward him.

Her lips parted as though she meant to say something. He lowered his head before she could. His mouth brushed hers as he caught her lower lip between his.

A tiny moan slipped from her. And by God, the moment that tiny little moan left her, it felt like it was all or nothing.

Dorian deepened the kiss. His hand slid around her waist, pulling her fully against him until there was no space left between them.

Naomi’s entire body lit up. Her nipples tightened against her shirt, heat rushed through her, and something low in her stomach curled.

What the hell was happening to her? She had kissed men before. She had obviously kissed Dorian before.

She had done significantly more than kiss Dorian before. But this felt different. Maybe because they were sober enough to remember every second. She grabbed his collar and pulled him closer.

Dorian’s hands moved to her face, both palms holding her steady while he kissed her with the kind of concentration he usually reserved for dismantling people in court.

Except this was considerably more enjoyable. It was lips and tongue and heat. He angled her face slightly and kissed her deeper.

Naomi made another soft sound against his mouth. He felt himself hardening in his pants and immediately knew this had gone far enough.

Dorian broke the kiss. Her eyes opened slowly. His hands were still on her face. Her fingers were still twisted in his collar.

they just stared at each other like they were seeing something new. His eyes dropped to her lips again.

He wanted to close the gap. So did she. But she finally found her voice.

"Friends that kiss, uhn?"

Dorian gave her a half smile. "Good night, Naomi." He turned away before his body betrayed every good decision he had left.

"Good night."

He walked toward his bedroom without looking back. Another ten seconds beside her and he was fairly certain the no-sex clause was going to become historical fiction.

Naomi remained in the hallway. Then she lifted her fingers to her lips. They still tingled. She could still feel his mouth there. She closed her eyes and groaned. "Oh God. Get your brain out of your pussy, you slut!" She turned and headed downstairs to the guest floor.

Inside his bedroom, Dorian stood with one hand against the closed door. His body had not received the memo that the kiss was over.

He exhaled slowly, ran one hand over his face when something occurred to him.

Callum’s gift.

Dorian stepped back into the hallway and headed downstairs. The bin still sat beside the elevator exactly where he had left it earlier.

The roses were inside, beginning to look considerably less offensive now that they had been properly discarded.

The gift bag sat beside them. He crouched, reached in and picked it up. Then he straightened and started toward the stairs when a sound reached him. A moan actually, he would know that.

Dorian slowly stepped back. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Well.

At least she had found an outlet. Good for her. He tightened his grip around the gift bag and quietly moved away, making sure not to create even the slightest rustling sound.

There were some boundaries even he understood. He headed back upstairs. He on the other hand, would have to make do with a cold shower.

*****

Adrian Archer walked into his boss’s office the next morning and stopped just inside the door. Dorian was sitting behind his desk, apparently engaged in a very serious legal dispute with a bracelet.

Pick it up. Turn it over. Put it down. Pick it up again.

Adrian watched this cycle happen twice before deciding he had seen enough. "Thinking of accessorising, Mr Heathcliffe?"