Free Champagne Cravings by Ava McKnight Page A

she does prefer women.” He shot a stunned
look over his broad shoulder. I laughed. “Don’t tell anyone.”
    “So I have competition?” he quipped. “Fucking great. I
finally make a serious move on you that you respond to and some international
supermodel swoops in to steal you away.”
    “Hardly.” As I cleared away the remainder of trash, I told
him, “I’m having a drink with her tomorrow night at Velage in Chelsea and I
will be ridiculously out of style and so very uncool.”
    He whistled under his breath. “Trendy hotspot.”
    “Yeah, I have no idea what to wear. Or how to not feel like
I’m the oldest person in the room.”
    “You might be,” he admitted. “So don’t try to keep up with
the hip and fabulous. Rock it old school.”
    I stared at him, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry. What? ”
    He chuckled. Turning back to me, he said, “Go retro. That’s
always in style. Wear simple black—maybe that black pinstriped suit you have
that’s tight and sexy. You know the one?”
    “Sure.”
    “And don’t do the Sex and the City cosmopolitan
thing. Too cliché and a typical fallback.” Apparently, I’d made him watch too
many episodes on DVD. “Order a Gibson instead.”
    “A what?”
    He shook his head at me and made a tsking noise. “Come on,
you’re a classy babe. It’s a gin and vermouth martini garnished with a pearl
onion, usually pickled. Classic all the way.”
    “Huh.” I stared at him a moment, thinking he might be on to
something, because I sure as hell didn’t have anything hanging in my closet
with bold splashes of color and geometric hems suitable for a get-together with
a New York City Fashion Week favorite. This, however, might be its own
trendsetting approach. “I like it,” I told him.
    After washing his hands and drying them with the towel, he
crossed the kitchen to where I stood and put his hands on my waist. His head
dipped and he kissed me again, making me forget all about my impending meeting
with Biel. Yeah, I was straight all the way.
    When Mike broke the kiss, I was breathless, but somehow
managed to say, “That is not the way to kiss a girl who hasn’t had sex in three
years.”
    “I can’t help it,” he murmured as his lips grazed my jaw and
trailed down to my neck. “I’ve wanted this for a very long time.”
    “Well, you know what I want…”
    His head lifted. “I want to be with you tonight, Lace. Make
no mistake. But I’m not rushing this part with you.”
    My fingers curled around the soft fabric covering his pecs,
keeping him close to me. “Then you probably shouldn’t kiss me anymore this
evening. I’m practically drowning in lust. I’d hate to go against both our
convictions and beg you to fuck me.”
    He groaned as he released me. “You wouldn’t have to beg.” He
took my hand and led me back to the sofa. “How about a movie?”
    We settled in with The Fighter , my concession for
clearly forcing too many chick-flicks on him. When the credits finally rolled,
he asked me, “So how’d you find out Biel McKinley’s into women?”
    I was cozied up in the corner with my feet tucked under me
and my head on Mike’s shoulder. He’d draped his arm around me and the way he
drew abstract patterns on my bare arm with his fingertips made my skin tingle.
    I admitted, “I walked in on her perched on the edge of a
coffee table while her makeup artist used a dildo to get her off.”
    “Whoa, that’s a visual.”
    “Yeah.” I was quiet a few moments, letting him digest or
fantasize or whatever. Then I said, “I imagine the only reason she hasn’t gone
public with her sexual orientation is because it’d kill the image
people—particularly men—have of her. Probably not good for the career, you
know? Yet, despite the fact she hasn’t publicly come out of the closet, she’s
never tied to any men, famous or not.”
    “So, you think in some sense, she’s true to herself and is
in control of her environment?”
    “She sure seems in control. Not