I smiled, slowly shaking my head. “Something like that.”
He regarded me for a long moment, then stood. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll stay.” He stripped off his jeans and climbed over me to settle into the empty space beside me. He wiggled out of his boxer briefs and chucked them toward the pile of clothes on the floor. “For a little while.”
I grinned like I’d won a prize when in fact, I should have been extremely concerned with my behavior. Bringing a stranger into my home was bad enough. Asking him to stay? That was not like me. At all.
The problem was that it was still early and though my body was tired, my brain wasn’t ready to shut down for the evening.
I peeked at my watch as I reached for my water bottle. “One hour?”
“You’re a weird dude, Seb. Sure, I’ll stay an hour. I’m gonna need at least forty-five minutes to get the wind back in the sails, though,” he commented, cupping his package lasciviously.
I scoffed. “It’s your turn next. My ass needs a break.”
“I bet. That was hot.” Trent plucked the bottle from my hands and set it on the nightstand before rolling on top of me. His kiss was playful, but it still packed a punch. He twisted his tongue around mine and nipped my chin. “But I don’t bottom.”
“Don’t or won’t?” I countered.
“Let’s just say I haven’t done it in a decade. It would take a whole lotta lube to get your dick in my ass.” He squeezed said dick, then sat up abruptly, whistling in appreciation as he scanned the room. “Nice.”
My designer would have taken serious umbrage to the adjective “nice.” She’d made it her quest to give the enormous space a cozy feel with a fireplace across from the four-poster bed, comfy chairs, and a fabulous view of the garden from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The color palette was the softest shades of blues and grays. She’d told me they were calming hues and I believed her. The master bedroom was one of the three rooms I happily inhabited in my house. The rest were filler.
“Thanks.”
“Do you use that fireplace?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’ll turn it on now.”
A press of a button later, a fire roared in the hearth.
“Wow. It’s like being at the Four fucking Seasons,” Trent commented, sliding under the duvet so close his leg hair tickled mine. “Have you lived here long?”
“Just over a year. I had a smaller place closer to Ollie’s school, but it wasn’t private enough. I know this place is over the top, but Snake Ink catapulted the Baxter franchise to a new stratosphere. I had some odd run-ins with overzealous fans following my car and flying drones over the property. If I was the only one to consider, I might have ridden it out, but Oliver was ten at the time and it scared him. I didn’t want him to be afraid to be at my house.”
Trent furrowed his brow in confusion. “Who the hell follows a producer home? That’s weird.”
“It wasn’t me they wanted,” I clarified. “My best friend is…seeing the guy I told you was the real-life inspiration for the marketing.”
“Who’s the famous one? Your friend or his boyfriend?”
“Gray is well-known in the music industry, but his boyfriend is the main draw. He’s a big rock star.”
“Wait. I know this one.” Trent squinted. “I read about your friend…Gray Robertson. He’s a Grammy-award winner and his boyfriend is—no fuckin’ way—the lead singer of Zero. Geez, that’s insane. I love that band. Wow. I should have put that together sooner. Those guys are hot right now.”
“Yeah, they’re popular…like psycho popular. Charlie’s boyfriend, Ky, is the bass player. My family and friends couldn’t come to our house without it turning into a circus, and Oliver isn’t the kind of kid who loves a circus. So we moved here,” I said, reaching for my water bottle. “I’m not used to it yet. I don’t think Ollie is, either. There’re just too many rooms.”
Trent huffed derisively. “That’s what you call a first-world problem for the nth percentile. I cannot relate to your life.”
“I can’t either, sometimes.”
“Ha. Yeah, right. I bet you wouldn’t know how to live like a regular person anymore. How would you get by without the assistants, the housekeepers, or the secretaries in your life?”
“Truthfully, not well, but that’s not because I’m used to this life or that I think it’s owed to me. Everything I have is attached to a larger asset.”
“I see…” He squinted again. “And the side benefit is a gated property to hide from paparazzi who might target you through your friend’s boyfriend.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to correct boyfriend to fiancé…just to see if I could do it. But I quickly realized I couldn’t test myself in front of a witness. I didn’t want to talk about Gray and Justin anyway. And since Trent had made it clear he didn’t want to talk about himself, I’d have to suggest something like—