Page 77 of Studs Up
He laughed, confused.
“What were you expecting?”
“Dunno,” I said. “Something bright and white with glass everywhere. You know, ‘look at my ego.’ This is nice, like a home. It’s the real you.”
A bright smile spread across his face.
“Like the real you is a big softie?”
I slid my hand around his neck and pulled him close.
“Don’t you ever fucking tell anyone that,” I growled. His arms squeezed my waist.
“I think I’m gonna need an incentive to keep my mouth shut.” The bright smile slipped into a naughty one.
Just this felt good. This simple moment. He trusted me with his home, and I loved that he wanted to share it with me.
He took my hand and led me down the hall, giving me a small tour. The home opened right into the living room with a bedroom on the left that he turned into an office. With a desk, some bookshelves and plants. The formal dining room had built-ins around the walls and a nice, long, dark wood dining table decorated with more plants. I didn’t get the feeling that anyone actually ate there.
The kitchen was updated and modernized but still respected the house’s original aesthetic. A long bar counter had been added to close the kitchen in a little instead of making it a massive open space. Stools were on one side, and cabinets on the other. And more plants.
Holden talked about the house’s updates and history as he walked me through it. It wasn’t the home of a man with an ego the size of Jupiter.
No, it was the home of a man who cherished his privacy and simplicity. Not a single piece of furniture was new with crisp edges. Antique chairs and old world rugs with as many pillows and blankets as there were plants. Almost.
There was a flush to his cheeks as he revealed his true self to me. I held his hand, stroking him with my thumb and loving every minute.
The flush darkened when he ended the tour with his bedroom.
A pale blue high backed chair sat in the corner with a folded blanket draped across the back. A long dresser, shorter than most, ran along one wall under the windows with plants all over it. Ferns, by the look of them.
The bed had a white fluffy comforter and enormous decorative pillows taking up nearly half the space. It was flanked by two nightstands, each with a lamp, and one nearest the window had a folded piece of paper with the corner tucked just under the lamp base.
“This is beautiful, Holden,” I said.
He smiled uncomfortably.
“Thank you.”
This was big for him. It was a sanctuary, and I got the feeling that not very many people had been invited in.
I pulled him close and brushed the hair off his forehead before I kissed him. Very gently and very slowly until he relaxed and whatever uncomfortableness he was experiencing drained away.
He pulled back, his eyes closed and his lips swollen. His breath had quickened, and his fingers played with the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Can I get you something to drink?” He asked, being the good host.
“Yes,” I rumbled and steered him back to his bed. He hit the edge and dropped down with a gasp.
After a desperate blow job and heavy make out session, like we were fucking teenagers, we made it out to the couch for the game, just in time for kick-off. Colorado somehow made it to the final against Pumas, and it was going to be interesting to see who came out on top.
He curled up in the corner of the couch and draped his legs over mine.
This was nice. This was really fucking nice. It was comfortable and easy. I laid my hand on his knee like it was something we’d always done.
Derrick Ennis was starting as a central defender. I still wanted to wipe him off the planet for how he went after Holden. The Guardians would play Colorado in two weeks, and I was sure I was still going to be pissed.
Usually, my full attention and focus would be on the game. But now, with Holden draped across my lap, my attention was divided. He seemed happy and relaxed despite being plagued by his nightmares and panic attacks.
