Alena’s smile was slow in coming, but it was genuine. “He’s a good man. He wants this, Soleil. I know you’re probably freaking out a little . . .”
“You think? I tried to tell him I wasn’t drunk, that I was the one trying to get him drunk, but he wouldn’t listen. I thought about making a run for it for his sake, but he doesn’t want me to. I can handle all the details of getting an annulment, or divorce, but he says no.”
Alena laughed softly. “That’s so funny. You both were trying to do the same thing. I think that just goes to show you that you’re meant for each other.”
Were they? She didn’t want to leave Ice. She wanted a different life. She always had. But he was a stranger, and his way of life was so completely the opposite of everything she knew. When she let her brain actually work, she knew she was insane not to call a lawyer and get an annulment immediately for both their sakes, but she was already walking out of the restroom and he was there, leaning against the wall.
The moment she spotted him, her heart beat wildly and she could barely breathe. He had draped himself there, appearing casually gorgeous, looking down at his phone and not at the waitresses vying for his attention. The moment she walked out, he glanced up, his blue eyes drifting over her possessively. Just that look sent her stomach on a crazy roller-coaster ride.
He smiled at her. His eyes lit up as if beneath the ice was a spotlight, shining through the crystal so that all that blue sparkled—just for her. He made her feel as if there were no other women in the world but her and she was his everything.
“I have helmet hair,” she greeted and then silently cursed herself, wishing she had something scintillating to offer, but looking at him, she was tongue-tied.
“You look beautiful, princess.”
Ice took her hand and led her to the booth where his brother, Alena and Maestro sat. Ice waited for her to get in first and slide all the way to the wall. He slipped in beside her and pressed up against her, his thigh to hers. His brethren sat in the surrounding booths, almost as if she was in the center of the club. It was an interesting concept. She was most always alone when she ate—although she didn’t frequent diners. She had no siblings, and the idea of having others care enough to look out for her was part of that fantasy she seemed caught in.
The waitress hurried over and handed them all menus. She stared at Ice and Storm. “You must be twins.”
Ice didn’t look up. Storm answered. “That’s what they tell us.”
The waitress threw back her head and laughed louder than Soleil thought was strictly necessary. Maestro shook his head and Alena looked bored.
“Anything look good, baby?” Ice asked, leaning into her. He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.
She tried not to be distracted, but that light, back-and-forth motion felt intimate. She pretended to study the menu, but she couldn’t think. He could wreak havoc with such a small gesture. Just when she thought she would have to pull her hand away, he dropped their hands to his thigh, pushing her palm over the hard muscle there and holding it to him. That felt even more intimate.
“Princess?” Ice prompted.
She cleared her throat. “I’ll have the taco salad.” It was the only item she could actually read, and she prayed it would be good because she was hungry.
The waitress wrote down her order and then stood there, staring at Ice and Storm. They both gave their orders, as did Alena and Maestro. The waitress pulled her gaze from the twins to bat her eyelashes at Maestro.
“My woman’s hungry,” Ice said without looking up. It was a clear order.
His tone made Soleil shiver. He pressed her hand tighter and then threaded his fingers through hers. “We would have stopped sooner, babe, had you said you needed a break.”
“I was pretty impressed,” Maestro said. “We all expected you to call a stop. Do you remember me?” He sent her a cocky grin.
She tried not to blush. These men had seen her in the throes of passion, Ice’s mouth between her legs, her riding his fingers and screaming out her orgasm. Just like that she was hot and slick again, squirming a little in her seat.
“You plied me with liquor all night. Of course I remember you, Maestro. I would presume you like music.” She was so glad she hadn’t whined and insisted on stopping. If it had been a test, she’d passed it with flying colors.
“You’d be right,” Alena said, making a face when she took a sip of her coffee. “Maestro is amazing on the piano. He can play just about any instrument, and when he actually admits it, he can sing too.”