Page 33 of Finding Grey

SEVENTEEN

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SEAN

My eyes opened at a few minutes after two. I wasn’t sure what woke me, but I wouldn’t get back to sleep until I’d peed and drunk a glass of water. My throat was parched from the whisky I’d consumed with Dante.

After a trip to the bathroom, I padded out to the living area in bare feet, shoving fingers through my hair as I yawned. Time for a big drink, and then I’d head back to bed.

Halfway across the small space, I came to a sudden halt. Dante was still here. How had I forgotten? Thank fuck I’d pulled on a pair of pyjama pants before falling into bed, otherwise I’d be standing here naked… like he almost was.

He stood in front of the open fridge door, the light illuminating the front of his body. And holy hell, he had a body on him. Slender, but perfectly defined, he could make the straightest man long to change teams. I wasn’t even close to being the straightest man. He’d doffed his t-shirt and jeans at some stage during the night. A pair of cotton boxer briefs was all that remained to cover those high, round arse cheeks. And on the top half of his body? Nothing. Fucking perfect.

I considered hightailing it back to my room, where I could beat off to the image of those peach-like mounds. He’d never even know I was there.

“You want something?” The lazy drawl told me it was too late to escape. “Or are you planning to stand there staring at me all night?”

Swallowing hard, I walked into the kitchen. “I didn’t want to disturb you, just need some water.” I gestured to the open fridge. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Chocolate cake,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “Or maybe chocolate brownies.”

“I can offer ice cream with chocolate chips in it. Does that help?”

Looking back over his shoulder, he grinned at me. “Done.” He closed the fridge door, plunging us into darkness, and I pushed a button on the range hood, turning on the small light over the stove. Dante, having found the tub of ice cream in the freezer, pulled his prize free with a cry of victory. “Peppermint choc-chip. Perfect.” Excitement shone on his face as he held the carton up between us. “You want some?”

I shook my head, trying not to imagine painting his body with the cold treat. “No, thanks.” I handed him a spoon from the cutlery drawer. “Go nuts.”

“Thanks. I intend to.” Popping the lid off the carton, he sat on one of the two bar stools I kept in front of the counter, in lieu of a dining table. He dug out a generous scoop of ice cream, and then put the whole lot into his mouth with a low groan.

I tried not to stare at the blissed-out expression on his face.

I failed.

“You’re a fan of anything peppermint, I take it?” He gave me a questioning look and I added, “Your assistant, Bri, sent me a list of your favourite foods. It had peppermint lollies on it.” The same brand of peppermint lollies I always included in his birthday packages. I’d wanted to ask about them, as I’d asked about the t-shirt he wore on his first morning, but the opportunity had never come up—until now.

He stilled, and then dropped his gaze. “Taste can be used as a memory trigger, you know,” he said while licking the last traces of ice cream from the spoon. “Peppermint reminds me of a night I never want to forget.” He dug out another spoonful. “And, of course, it’s also an aphrodisiac.”

I snorted my disbelief. “Is not.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “It is for me.”

My stomach tightened at his response. “Must have been some night.”

A half-smile curved his mouth, but then he seemed to shake himself free. “What’s keeping you awake in the middle of the night?”

I shook my head. “No idea. I was asleep ten minutes ago. Something must have woken me.”

“Sorry. That was probably me banging about in here.” His grin said he wasn’t even close to being sorry, and he’d wake me again if he had to.

In the years I’d been doing this job, I’d never had a guest who seemed so starved for company. Had he always been like this? Spending too much time alone, surrounded by instruments and sheet music instead of people? He’d been here for more than two weeks and had only ventured off the property a couple of times, and never for long. He didn’t seem to have any friends in this city. The comment he’d made earlier about us being friends of a sort took on new meaning when I considered his obvious isolation.

Pushing the disturbing thoughts aside, I moved to the cupboard. I’d professed to be here to get a drink. It would probably help if I made a show of doing that. Grabbing a glass, I filled it from the cold water reservoir in the fridge door.

Meanwhile, Dante scooped more ice cream into his mouth, before slowly drawing the spoon back out. Most of the ice cream remained, smoothed out by the application of his lips.

My entire body started to get a boner. Oh, crap. Closing my eyes, I tipped my head back and downed the whole glass of water. The cold liquid seared the back of my throat and made my teeth ache, but it would be worth it if I made it out of the room with my dignity intact. I’d nearly finished when I opened my eyes to glance at Dante and saw the stark longing on his face as he watched me. I choked on the final swallow of water, spilling the last few drops onto my chest.

I didn’t hear him groan. I thought I did, but I didn’t. World famous rock stars did not sit in my kitchen groaning at the sight of water dripping down my body. It sounded nice, sure, but that shit did not happen.