Page 32 of Stetson
STETSON
Wasit possible to die from lack of orgasms?
It had to be. I felt like I was going to explode. Not even a cold shower could completely erase the fact that I hadn’t come in almost a month. And as Barrett watched my every move, it undid everything I’d tried. He perched on the desk, studying me like he’d be tested on it later. It made the gray slacks I was pulling on that much tighter. I closed my eyes and forced myself to take a few deep breaths. If I couldn’t get a grip, I was sure to be arrested for public indecency. The thin fabric of those slacks hid nothing.
I tucked in my white long-sleeved shirt and as I was doing up the buttons, Barrett appeared behind me in the mirror, wrapping his tattooed arms around me. The ink scrawled up and down his arms brought color to an otherwise bland outfit.
It also wasn’t lost on me that he had yet to get dressed. Making me look at all that beautiful skin on display when I could do nothing about it.
Bastard.
As I fastened the last few buttons, swift fingers came behind me and snatched them open again. “There we go,” Barrett said, voice low and rumbly in my ear. “Damn, Stetson; you look good enough to eat.”
I shuddered. “We don’thaveto go out.”
Barrett laughed, and my stomach flipped. “Yes, we do. Because we have to talk and if you stand there any longer looking likethat, talking will be the last thing on my mind.”
“Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good.” Barrett and I swapped places so he could get dressed. Forgetmelooking good enough to eat, Barrett was a five-course meal. I licked my lips, holding onto any hint of his taste lingering there. It was in vain, so I was forced to sit and watch the tattoos on his thighs disappear behind navy dress slacks.
“It’s not bad,” he said, pulling my attention away from his crotch. “But you and I haven’t had a lot of time to talk about this arrangement. Besides, I know this is your first time getting to enjoy New York so I wanted to show you one of my favorite places.”
“Where’s that?” I asked, locking onto his fingers delicately fastening each shirt button.
“You’ll see.”
My stomach fluttered again. I loved surprises, and somehow Barrett had figured that out.
I behaved while he finished getting ready. Sort of. He didn’t stop my wandering eyes. Barrett could fill out a pair of slacks like no one I’d ever seen. His white shirt was sheer enough to tease at the ink hidden beneath, and I found satisfaction in knowing that trailing every inch of that marvelous art with my tongue was a privilege that belonged to me.
After our rare sleep in and our dawdling as we got ready, it was late afternoon by the time we left the hotel.
Back home,Iwas the superstar. I was used to being trailed everywhere I went. In New York, however, Barrett was the main attraction. I’d noticed it before the game yesterday. So when we got down to the lobby, I was surprised to find it empty. Barrett nodded to one of the employees, who led us down a back hallway. He pushed open a side door, where a car waited for us. “Wow,” I muttered, sliding in ahead of him. “I’m getting the VIP experience, aren’t I?”
Barrett took his seat and raised the privacy screen, throwing his arm around my shoulders and tugging me close. I settled into the plush bench seat, Barrett’s warmth permeating my clothes and seeping into my skin. Everything felt so… luxurious. For a moment, I almost felt like I didn’t belong. Then Barrett hooked a finger under my chin to redirect my attention. The moment his lips touched mine, the whole world faded away. As we kissed, I prayed to whatever God was out there that our upcoming conversation wasn’t going to make this feeling end.
It was Barrett’s mouth separating from mine that made me realize the car had stopped. I peered out the windows for any sign of where we were: Times Square, The Empire State Building, or Rockefeller Center, but nothing appeared familiar. The door opened, and Barrett took my hand. We both thanked the driver, and Barrett led me through a private entrance of yet another building. There, we were approached by a lady in a pantsuit and her hair in an elaborate French twist. She gave Barrett a smile that, had he been interested, probably would have charmed his pants right off.
“It’s wonderful to see you again, Mr. Swindon.”
Barrett tsked and welcomed a socially acceptable kiss on the cheek. “Vicky, what have I told you? Call me Barrett.”
Vicky’s eyes landed on me, and the smile faded. “Is your boyfriend not joining you today?”
“He is.” In the privacy of the back room, Barrett wrapped his arm around my waist. Vicky was apparently trusted, because we’d been extremely careful about public displays of affection. “Levi had to work, so Stetson and I thought we’d sneak off for a little alone time before he joins us later.”
Vicky’s eyes widened slightly before she caught herself and that smile returned. Only now, it was a little less genuine. “Right this way, gentlemen.”
We followed her to a service elevator, where she pulled out a keycard. One of those that accessed parts of the hotel that most ordinary people couldn’t get to. Barrett’s hand squeezed on my waist and he crooked a brow at me. “I’m fine,” I whispered, answering the unspoken question in his eyes.
I was no stranger to five-star treatment, but it was the first time someone else had gone out of their way to make sure I got it. In Georgia, it just kind of happened. Sometimes, all I wanted was to be treated like an ordinary twenty-three-year-old. But standing there with Barrett, I realized that he made me feelextraordinary. Butterflies raged in my stomach. I’d had my fair share of hookups over the years, but I couldn’t remember a time where anyone made me feel the way Barrett and Levi did.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Vicky stood aside and let us exit. Instead of following, she stepped back into the car. “Enjoy your evening.”
I was still gathering my bearings when Barrett took my hand and led me across the rooftop.
The place was deserted. Despite the afternoon sun, dim candle light flickered across each table. The crisp white furniture stood out against the wooden tables. A lone mixologist busied himself behind the bar, and the balcony overflowed with lush greenery. Beyond that was a breathtaking view of the Manhattan skyline. What was even more striking, was the view of Barrett beside me, studying my face and awaiting my reaction. “How long do we have here?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I didn’t want to interrupt the intimate moment we were sharing
“Long enough for you to see that at night.” He gestured toward the view. “Trust me. It’ll be the best thing you’ve ever seen.”
