Margot blew the hair out of her face, lips remaining pursed even after her hair had settled. “Cool.”
“Katie?” Olivia asked, not recognizing the name.
“She and Jian got married last year,” Brendon explained. “They both work with me at OTP.”
Olivia nodded, filing all away the names and relationships. “Got it.”
Laughter carried from further in the suite. Brendon jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Everyone’s out on the patio. We’ve got the fireplace going and are about to roast marshmallows. Here, I can take those off your hands.” He reached out, grabbing the case of beer from Margot, who gave him an appreciative smile. “We’ve got a bottle of champagne open, and Elle and Darcy brought wine, so this rounds our assortment of beverages out nicely.”
“Please tell me there’s food.” Margot pressed her hand against her stomach. “Other than marshmallows.”
“Oh, totally.” Brendon backed away slowly. “We’ve got graham crackers and chocolate, too.”
Margot frowned and Olivia felt her pain. Traffic had caused them to miss dinner. They’d done a number on the cookies they’d baked last night, but it wasn’t real food.
“Kidding.” Brendon grinned. “There’s plenty of chips and finger foods, and if you guys want, you can always order room service.” He nodded to their bags. “You guys can either drop your things here for now, if you want, or you can settle in first. We all got comfortable after dinner, but either way.”
Brendon disappeared around the corner, leaving them alone in the entryway of the suite.
Olivia hiked the strap of her duffel higher on her shoulder and glanced down at what she was wearing. “I think I’m going to get out of these jeans.”
Margot’s lips twitched, and she cast a quick glance toward the hall before stepping closer, into Olivia’s space, her body a line of heat against Olivia’s side. “Need help?”
“Are you offering?” Olivia asked, heat wrapping around the sides of her jaw.
Margot hummed and hooked a finger under the waist of Olivia’s jeans, right by the button, pulling the denim taut. It bit softly into Olivia’s skin. Margot leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Olivia’s ear, hot breath sending a shiver down Olivia’s spine. “Maybe later.”
Ugh. Olivia shut her eyes and groaned quietly. “You’re so mean.”
Margot pecked her cheek, lips lingering, dragging down to the hinge of Olivia’s jaw. “Later,” she promised, sliding her finger out of Olivia’s pants.
Olivia opened her eyes and shook off the fog of lust that had made her head fuzzy in no time flat. She took a deep, cleansing breath and followed Margot through the door into the adjoining room, trying to ignore her sudden restless awareness of the space between her thighs.
Margot dropped her bag beside the queen-sized bed in her room and stretched, arms lifted over her head, the bottom of her sweater riding up, revealing a strip of her stomach. She smirked when she saw Olivia staring, then shamelessly grabbed the bottom of her top, drawing it over her head, leaving her in a sheer black bra that cupped her breasts and lifted them high, the lace pattern accentuating her curves and leaving little to the imagination.
Margot lifted her eyes, brows rising, a knowing little smirk curving her lips as she slid the straps of her bra down her shoulders before reaching back for the clasp. The fabric sagged in front of her body, her breasts falling subtly. There was a bruise in the shape of Olivia’s mouth on Margot’s left breast, right beside her nipple, put there last night.
Olivia almost swallowed her tongue. The noise that escaped her mouth was next-level mortifying, half gasp and half groan, one hundred percent reminiscent of a dying animal. Her eyes darted to the open door.
“Meet you in the other room?” Margot asked, digging through her duffel for a change of clothes.
Olivia tripped over her feet as she stepped backward. “You’re terrible.”
“The worst,” Margot agreed with a smile. “Now go.”
It wasn’t until Olivia was in her room that she cursed softly. She’d had every intention of talking to Margot about Brendon’s none too subtle attempt at matchmaking, but then she’d gotten distracted by Margot and her breasts and her flirting and her—everything.
Later, then. Unless there was nothing to talk about? She’d have to play it by ear.
Olivia dug out a change of clothes and set them aside while she wiggled out of her jeans. She tossed them on the bed and frowned. There was paper poking out of her back pocket. Paper. She couldn’t for the life of her remember—